Page 1 of Trailer Trash

Chapter 1

My worst nightmarehad just shown up at my front door. Well, the front door of RBW Landscaping, to be precise. Miss Dorie had brought it in with the morning mail.

I wasn’t alone, but I was the only employee present. While RBW Landscaping now had six employees, everyone else was out working. Besides me, the person who spent the most time in the office was Rose. She was technically my boss, but if you ranked the complexities of our relationship, it would be:

Best friends

Housemates

Boss/employee

Co-investigators (although I suspect she wouldn’t include this one)

Rose was out this morning, but my brother Joe, the chief deputy sheriff of Fenton County, had stopped by on his day off to bring over my current favorite drink (vanilla caramel latte with almond milk, sprinkled with nutmeg), using the drink delivery as a pretense for a chat. He’d been doing that a lot lately, ever since we found out the truth about my soon-to-be ex-husband. That he wasn’t dead. That he’d turned tail and run off with some other woman.

But Joe knew me better than to up and mention that. He’d settled in on the edge of my desk, sipping his coffee while talking about his plans for his kitchen. He’d been remodeling a rental farmhouse, exchanging labor for rent. I’d seen Joe’s work; his landlord was getting the better deal, but the more I got to know my newly discovered half brother, the more I realized the work he was doing was helping him with his demons.

I had plenty of my own demons, most of which Joe had no inkling of, and as soon as I saw the look on my mail lady’s face, I knew one of them was about to claw to the surface.

The bell on the door chimed as Miss Dorie came in, carrying a stack of envelopes, but her eyes were wide with excitement. “Neely Kate, I have another one of yourmysteryenvelopes.”

Crap.Sometimes I hated being right.

Miss Dorie saw Joe on my desk and did a double take. “Deputy Simmons. I heard you were taking a day off.”

I had to hand it to observant postal workers. Sometimes they knew more about what was going on in Henryetta than I did, and I made it my business to know things.

“It is,” he said in his easy, laid-back tone, offering no other information.

Miss Dorie approached, handing me the stack of mail as she took stock of Joe’s jeans and T-shirt, realizing he was lazing around my office, draped on my desk in a casual manner while we drank our coffees together. Alone. Her eyes flew wide open. “Are you two secretlymarried?”

Oh, my stars and garters. It would have been funny if it weren’t so disturbing.

Joe spat out his coffee and started to cough.

I dropped the stack on my desk, jumping out of my chair to pat his back.

I wasn’t surprised by her question. Now that Joe had decided to be part of my life, he’d taken to it with gusto. I suspected he only hung around so much because he was lonely, but I latched onto his attention like a woman dying of thirst, leaving her open mouth under a slow dripping faucet to catch every drop. I couldn’t imagine why he’d be so interested in me otherwise.

Joe Simmons had grown up in a fancy house with servants and more money in his allowance than I’d earned in a year at my old job at the county courthouse. I’d grown up in trailer parks. I was trailer trash and I knew it, no matter how hard I tried to prove otherwise. Sometimes I watched Joe, prepared for the moment when he’d finally let me in on the joke, pointing and shouting, “Gotcha!” I didn’t want to be caught off guard.

But now I was watching him closely for another reason. While I was whacking him on the back, he was eyeing the mail—more specifically, the white legal-sized envelope with the jack-o’-lantern stamp. It was addressed to Neely Kate Simmons with no return address.

Legally, my name was still Neely Kate Colson. I wanted to start using my maiden name of Rivers, but since no one could track down my renegade husband to serve him divorce papers, I was stuck. Not from any lack of trying on Joe’s part. He’d tracked Ronnie down in New Orleans two weeks ago, only to watch my ex board a bus to Memphis.

And that’s where his trail had run cold.

While we’d found out I was Joe’s sister back in February, hardly anyone else knew about our new family dynamics. Who could blame Miss Dorie for jumping to conclusions?

Joe leaned forward and picked up the envelope.

“My word,” Miss Dorie exclaimed, growing more and more excited over her scoop. “At first I thought the name was a mistake. Remember me asking if it was a mistake?” she continued, starting to dance in place. “I sure as Pete never put it together.”

“We’re not married, Miss Dorie,” I said, trying to sound grumpy and not breathless from nerves. Joe couldnotsee what was in that envelope, and if he figured out I was anxious, he’d insist on taking a peek.

“Then why do you keep gettin’ mail delivered to Neely Kate Simmons?” she asked with a hand on her hip. “And the same dang stamp every time too. Who sends a Halloween stamp in the summer?”

Joe turned the envelope over to examine the back. Sure enough, there was nothing on there. Just like the last four. He stared at me, waiting for an explanation, while I debated my best course of action: should I refuse to discuss it or flat-out lie?

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