Chapter 4
Four
“ O kay, ladies. Into the happy baby pose.”
Jane groaned as she lay on her back, bent her knees toward her chest, then grabbed her feet while spreading her legs apart. Breathe in. Exhale. Repeat. Do not moan.
Before Savannah left, she made Jane promise to get out and meet people. Jane realized she’d been using self-pity as a way of not enjoying life.
Signing up for a yoga class was one of the first things she did for herself. Another was contacting Lily Mitchell of Rustic Roots. Lily lived down the street from Jane and was a farmer and artisan. She also was an encyclopedia of information about farming. Last, she met Claire Martinez at her art studio and gallery, Earth the woman behind Emily was excited about a new dress she bought; two teens sitting at the counter were giving each other moon eyes; and a deep voice two booths down was complaining about flatlanders—a name native Vermonters gave to people who moved up north from elsewhere and not always meant to be nice.
A voice she was familiar with. The sheriff must have come in after they did, because she sure would have seen him and suggested they go elsewhere to eat. It hurt to hear his assessment of her and the broken window in the barn as if she lied about it. Jane’s heart sank, and in an instant, she lost all the good feelings she had about her new home.
Emily frowned and reached over to touch her arm. “Jane, he’s just shit-talking. Ethan is the fairest man I know. I’m sure he believed you.”
“Yeah, and I’m the Easter Bunny.”
“You’ll see as you get to know him.”
Jane doubted that.
She had enough of the police in Boston, especially that rookie who callously wondered out loud if something she wrote could have caused Mike’s death. She knew from experience that once the police got something in their mind, the thought didn’t go away. Jane realized she’d always be on Sheriff “Loose Lips” McQueeney’s radar.