Page 4 of Stormswept Colorado

Those two, I swear.

“Next time, could you work out your relationship issues without involving the police?” I asked.

“Haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about.” Her cheeks stained as red as her dyed curly hair.

Sure she didn’t.

Through the window, Rosie and I watched her boyfriend trot out to the parking lot. Regular business had resumed in the checkout line, the noise in the market returning to its usual chorus of small-talk and the beeps of the scanner. Through the windows facing Main, I saw locals in knit caps and down coats as they went about their day.

The sky was pure blue, and the sun was bright. One of those winter days that almost looks like summer until you step outside and feel the chill.

Rosie turned to me. “What do you think about this storm that’s coming, Teller?Chief, I mean.”

I smiled at her slip. Rosie had known me since I was a kid, back when I’d bagged groceries after school for extra cash. And for that employee discount. Those days felt like a long, long time ago.

“It’s wise to prepare as usual,” I said. “But no need to go overboard. It’ll hardly be the storm of the century. In fact, we need the precipitation. It’ll be good for the snowpack.” If we didn’t get enough snow in winter, that meant fire danger in the warm months.

But weather patterns worked on their own schedule, especially in the mountains. It could be dumping snow in one part of the county and bone dry a few miles away. The old timers liked to get their farmer’s almanacs out and make predictions, but they were wrong just as often as they got it right.

“But will it interfere with the wedding?” Rosie asked, and several more heads over in the checkout line nodded. Because of course they were listening. “That’s what I’m worried about.”

Ah,The Wedding. The event that needed no modifiers in Hart County.

Ashford O’Neal and Emma Jennings would be getting married this coming weekend in Hartley, the county seat. It was going to be a big celebration, and it seemed like most of our town of Silver Ridge was invited. People in these parts had been looking forward to Emma and Ashford’s nuptials since before the two were even engaged. He was the single dad with a tragic history,and she was the optimistic young music teacher who’d changed his life. Everybody adored Ashford’s daughter, Maisie. They wanted to see that happily ever after in person.

I’d known Ashford since our families lived across the street from each other growing up, and I was happy for him. The ceremony would take place Saturday afternoon. I’d gotten the obligatory invite, so I was driving out tomorrow night, on Friday.

Did I appreciate all this fuss about the wedding, though? Not so much.

A mountain pass stood between us and Hartley, and it was difficult driving in blizzard conditions. But this wouldn’t be a blizzard. My police department would coordinate with the Hart County Sheriff’s Office as usual. Just another day at work for us. I was more worried about folks driving back to Silver Ridge after too many cocktails.

At social events, my typical M.O. was to make sure things didn’t get out of hand. According to my sister Piper, I was chief of the fun police.

I leaned my elbow on the customer-service counter. “Storm is set to hit Saturday evening, but everyone will already be in Hartley by then. We’ll be nice and cozy at the inn by the time that storm arrives. It’ll snow a couple feet, but the plows will have it handled by Sunday morning as usual.”

Rosie nodded. “Suppose you’re right.”

Our audience moved along, returning their focus to their shopping. “Thanks, Chief,” one woman said as she passed me.

“Y’all have a good day, now.” I adjusted my belt, nodding, then checked my watch. I had a lot of tasks ahead of me and only so many hours to do them.

But Rosie touched my arm before I could break for the exit. She leaned forward to drop her voice into a mock whisper that was nowhere near quiet.

“I heard from Dixie Haines that Ayla Maxwell has already arrived in town. Just this morning Dixie spotted Ayla at the coffee shop. I’ve been playing her music on rotation for days, justin case she comes in to the market.” Rosie pointed a finger at the ceiling.

“Didn’t notice,” I deadpanned. I’d been trying to ignore the dance beats coming from the overhead speaker system.

“Do you think she’ll sing at the wedding reception?”

“I highly doubt it.”

“Wouldn’t it be romantic, though?” She fluttered her lashes.

“I wouldn’t know.”

Rosie nudged my arm teasingly. “Ah, yes. You’re the town’s most eligible bachelor, and you’re committed to staying that way. Don’t frown like that. I’m not judging.”

“Just so long as you’re not trying to fix me up.” Which was a favorite pastime of every other woman of a certain age in town.

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