Page 8 of In Her Dreams
“Sheriff Graves,” Amy said, her voice catching slightly.“Thank you for coming so quickly.”
“Hello, Amy.I’m sorry about Mr.Winters.”
Amy nodded, stepping back to allow Jenna entry.“Miss Rusty’s in the living room.She’s...well, she’s holding up.”
The familiar scent of lemon furniture polish and brewing coffee enveloped Jenna as she stepped inside, unlocking a flood of memories.How many times had she visited this house over the years?The Winters had been fixtures in Trentville’s social landscape, their home a gathering place for charity functions and holiday celebrations.
The foyer opened to a central hallway with gleaming hardwood floors.Jenna’s gaze traveled up the curved staircase, her mind suddenly sixteen years back.She and Piper had raced down those stairs in matching blue dresses, giggling as their mother called after them to slow down.It had been the evening the Winters invited the Graves family to dinner—a celebration of Jenna and Piper opening their first savings accounts at Richard’s bank.
Richard had shaken their hands formally at the door, treating the twelve-year-old twins with the same respect he showed adult customers.“The future financial wizards of Trentville,” he’d called them.Later, over dessert, he’d explained compound interest with such genuine enthusiasm that even teenage Jenna had been captivated.
That evening had been a rite of passage, a welcome into the adult world by one of the town’s most respected citizens.None of them could have imagined that someday Piper would be gone without a trace, leaving a void that Jenna still carried.
Amy led her past a gallery of framed photographs that lined the hallway.Jenna’s gaze caught on a recent one—Richard standing tall despite his seventy-plus years, his arm around Rusty at what appeared to be the hospital’s annual fundraising gala.His smile looked genuine, not the forced expression he’d worn in the years immediately following his wife’s death.
The living room was bathed in natural light from floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the meticulously maintained backyard.Rusty Galvin stood as Jenna entered, setting aside a tissue box on an antique side table.
“Jenna,” Rusty said, her voice hoarse from crying.
They moved toward each other instinctively, embracing in the middle of the room.
“I’m so sorry about your dad,” Jenna said as they separated.
Rusty nodded, unable to speak for a moment.She was dressed in a navy cardigan over a simple blouse, her usually styled hair pulled back in a messy ponytail.The strain of sudden loss was etched around her eyes, adding years to her face.
“Amy’s bringing coffee,” Rusty finally managed.“Let’s sit in the dining room.I...I can’t stay in here.All I see is Dad reading in his chair every time I look over there.”
Jenna followed her friend through the arched doorway into the formal dining room with its imposing mahogany table.They sat across from each other at one end, the heavy curtains partially drawn against the bright morning sun.
“How long has it been since we really talked?”Rusty asked, absently smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle from the tablecloth.
“Too long,” Jenna admitted, feeling a pang of guilt.“I saw you at the Christmas parade, but we barely had a chance to speak.”
“Before that, it was Mom’s funeral.”Rusty twisted the gold wedding band on her finger.“Life gets away from us, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” Jenna agreed.“But I’m here now, Rusty.As your friend, not just as the sheriff.”
Amy entered with a silver tray bearing a coffee service—real china cups and saucers, cream in a small pitcher, sugar in a matching bowl.She set it down carefully, steadier now with the familiar task.
“Thank you, Amy,” Rusty told her.“That will be all for now.”
The housekeeper nodded and withdrew, closing the pocket doors behind her with a gentle click.
Rusty poured coffee with the smooth movements of someone raised with formal entertaining.“Black, right?You never did develop a taste for cream.”
“Some things don’t change,” Jenna said, accepting the cup.“How are you really doing, Rusty?”
Rusty’s composure wavered.“I keep thinking I’ll hear his footsteps on the stairs.Or his voice calling for Amy to bring him the newspaper.”She set down her cup, the china rattling slightly against the saucer.“It doesn’t seem real.”
“Tell me about this morning,” Jenna prompted gently.
Rusty took a steadying breath.“Amy found him.She always brings his morning coffee at seven-thirty, has for years.”Her words came in halting bursts, occasionally circling back or trailing off.“When he didn’t answer her knock, she went in anyway.He was...on the floor.By the foot of the bed.She called me right away, and I came right over.”
Jenna nodded, allowing her friend space to collect her thoughts.
“At first, we thought...well, with his heart condition, it seemed obvious,” Rusty continued.“The paramedics said it appeared to be cardiac arrest.No signs of struggle or injury.Dad’s doctor has been monitoring his arrhythmia for years, so everyone assumed it was just...his time.”
Jenna detected an undercurrent of uncertainty in Rusty’s tone.“But you’re not convinced?”
