Chapter 5 #2
But she could do it. Those same people would be lining up for family portraits, graduation pictures, newborn sessions, and weddings. It was a business, and she was providing a service for the community. Nothing more complicated than that.
It was only a few more steps to the front door of the sheriff’s office.
The building was newer than she remembered—Bavarian in style like everything else in Laurel Valley, with planter boxes and wooden beams and that distinctive alpine charm the town was known for.
Simone had told her that Blaze O’Hara had taken over as sheriff several years back, convincing the town to pass a bond for a new station.
His cousin Hank had gotten the contract to build it.
She’d grown up with Blaze, just like she had all the O’Haras, though he’d been several years older and didn’t often hang out with her and Sloane.
But putting him in a position of authority as sheriff was hard to wrap her brain around, especially knowing some of the things he’d gotten up to as a teenager.
Time changed people, she supposed. It had certainly changed her.
She found her hand was slightly damp as she reached for the door handle.
She’d grown up hearing Harley rail against the police—how corrupt and useless they were, how they targeted the poor and the people who needed their help the most. And then he’d told her if she ever said anything to Sheriff Rafferty about the beatings, Rafferty would come straight to him because they were friends. And she’d get twice the punishment.
She’d never heard any gossip around town that Sheriff Rafferty had actually been corrupt.
Mostly people called him inept and lazy, more interested in his coffee and crossword puzzles than actual law enforcement.
But she’d never been sure if her daddy was telling the truth about them being friends, so she’d made it her policy to steer clear of the police whenever she saw them.
Old habits died hard.
The sheriff’s office was pretty much what she’d expected.
It smelled of Pine-Sol trying to mask the smell of burned coffee and the particular mustiness of old files.
A wooden desk sat to the right of the door, and a slightly plump woman with fresh highlights in her blond hair sat behind it, her long acrylic nails clicking against the keyboard as she typed.
Her desk was stacked with papers and file folders, and behind her was a dispatch board where she took emergency calls.
There was another desk directly across from hers, but this one was empty except for a couple of framed photographs. Two holding cells lined the back wall of the room, stark and empty except for cots with plastic-covered mattresses.
It took Marnie a few seconds to place the woman’s face. And then it hit her and dread settled in her stomach like a lead weight.
Lila Rose.
The girl everyone had loved to hate but never had the guts to say so to her face because they were afraid of what she’d say about them in return.
There hadn’t been a moment from kindergarten through her junior year that Lila hadn’t made fun of her for wearing the same worn-out clothes or only having a boiled egg to eat for lunch some days.
It had always irked Lila that Marnie could come and go as she pleased at the O’Haras’ place.
In Lila’s mind, it was she and Sloane who should’ve been the best of friends—the two daughters of wealthy ranching families.
But Sloane couldn’t stand Lila and had told her so to her face in first grade.
So in turn, Lila had set out to make Marnie as miserable as possible in payment.
“Can I help you?” Lila said, looking up from her computer.
She was still pretty, and it was easy for Marnie to see the homecoming queen she’d once been now that she’d recognized her. She must’ve married well, because the rock on her finger had to be a good two carats and the diamond tennis bracelet she wore strained against the thickness of her wrist.
Marnie didn’t have to look into Lila’s mind to see what she was thinking.
It was written all over her face. She sized Marnie up quickly and dismissed her as unimportant, though she was clearly curious about what a stranger was doing in the sheriff’s office.
But she smiled a fake smile and welcomed her anyway.
“I’m here to see Blaze. I think he’s expecting me.”
“Oh, sure. He mentioned something about that, though he didn’t tell me your name. You must be the new tenant over at the river house. I’d heard him mention to someone the other day that it had been rented.”
“That’s me,” Marnie said, forcing a smile. After all, Lila and her family were potential customers. “Is he in?”
“Oh, sure, but I think he’s on a phone call. Let me check.”
Marnie could tell she was irritated that she hadn’t introduced herself, but she wasn’t quite ready for that yet. Some things required a running start.
Lila got up and knocked lightly on the closed door behind her desk. She stuck her head in and said a few words, then closed the door again.
“He’ll be right out,” she said, taking her place behind the desk again and smoothing her skirt over her thighs. “Where are you moving here from? Do I detect a little bit of the south in your voice?”
“I’m coming from Savannah. I’ve actually rented the vacant shop next door to open a photography studio.”
Lila squealed and clapped her hands together once, and Marnie wondered how it was some people never changed. She was still the same vapid popular girl, just trapped inside a thirty-something body. And she’d probably still be that same girl at eighty.
“Oh, that’s perfect! We have to drive almost an hour to get family photos done, and that’s such a hassle with three kids.
And a good friend of mine had her wedding here and she brought in a fancy photographer all the way from Sun Valley.
” Lila lowered her voice conspiratorially.
“It was the sheriff’s sister that did that, but they can afford it.
Sloane always did have expensive taste. Must’ve cost a fortune. ”
Marnie raised her eyebrows at that, both at the gossip and the casual mention of Sloane. She wondered how long it took Lila to spread police business all over town. She probably had her phone to her ear the minute a 911 call came into the switchboard.
“I’ve done weddings big and small all over the country,” Marnie said evenly. “Hopefully people will start coming to Laurel Valley instead of leaving it for their portraits.”
Lila’s lips pinched and her eyes widened slightly, but she continued to smile. “You must be quite the photographer if you think people will come all the way here for photos.”
Marnie kept her smile in place. “I guess I’ll have to wait and see. I had a six-month waiting list when I was in Savannah.”
Thankfully, Blaze’s office door opened and he stepped out before Lila could respond.
Her first thought was that he hadn’t changed much.
The O’Haras had all been blessed with good looks, but only a few of them possessed the black hair and piercing blue eyes that had been passed down from their great-grandfather.
Blaze, Sloane, Jax, and a few of the younger generation all shared those striking attributes.
When it came to those particular O’Haras, it wasn’t just good looks. They were stunning.
Her last impression of Blaze was of a young man in his early twenties who’d finished his term in the military and was trying to figure out what he should do with his life.
He looked rougher around the edges than he had back then.
She could see the sleeve of tattoos peeking out beneath his rolled-up shirtsleeves and the growth of stubble she had to imagine was intentional rather than forgotten.
He was tall, like all the O’Haras were, but Blaze was just a little taller than the others.
Broad through the shoulders and chest, he wore the weapon in his holster like he’d been born to it.
And she supposed he had been, in a way. She’d known from the time he was young that he was destined to protect and serve.
The gold wedding band on his left hand caught the light, and she could see the contentment in his face. He’d made a good life.
“Marnie,” he said, breaking into a genuine grin that transformed his serious face. “It’s so good to see you.”
He didn’t try to hug her. She’d never liked being touched much, and apparently he remembered that. But she went up to him to shake his hand. As their skin touched, she opened herself briefly—just a glimpse, just enough to get a sense of him.
Her smile grew wider at what she found. He was deeply content in his life, loved his wife and children more than anything, and Lila annoyed him to no end—but he’d given her the job as a favor to her husband, whom he genuinely liked.
“It’s good to be back,” she said.
“Is it?” His expression sobered and he studied her with a cop’s assessing gaze, watching her the way he might watch a witness—not with suspicion, but with genuine concern.
“I think it is,” she answered honestly. “I wasn’t so sure when I decided to come home. But it feels right now that I’m here.”
“Oh my goodness,” Lila said from behind her desk, her mouth forming a perfect O before she covered it with her manicured hand.
“Marnie Whitlock. I never in my life would’ve known that was you.
Just look at you, all grown up and back in Laurel Valley.
It’s me,” she said, as if Marnie could have forgotten.
“Lila Rose. Well, I’m Lila Randolph now.
I married Tucker Randolph. You remember him? He graduated with Blaze.”
She didn’t remember Tucker Randolph, but that wasn’t surprising since Blaze was almost a decade older than she was. They hadn’t exactly run in the same circles. She did recognize the Randolph name, though. Mr. Randolph—Tucker’s father—had been the bank president.
The confusion must have shown on her face because Lila pouted and put her hands on her generous hips.
“Now don’t tell me you don’t remember me.
We were in school together all the way through until you—left.
” She let the word hang there, her eyes glittering with something that looked almost like satisfaction even as her smile remained firmly in place.
“Oh, I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to make you remember.
That must’ve been so hard on you when your parents died like that.
And your daddy wanted for murder and everything.
” She clucked her tongue sympathetically, but her eyes told a different story.
“Lila,” Blaze interrupted, his voice carrying a note of warning, “why don’t you take your lunch break. I’ll cover the switchboard until Deputy Greyson gets back. He’ll only be a few more minutes.”
Lila looked like she wanted to argue, but the look on Blaze’s face must’ve changed her mind. “Sure thing, Sheriff. You want me to bring you anything back?”
“No, I’m meeting my wife for lunch once Greyson returns. Thanks for the offer, though.”
Lila grabbed her designer handbag from the bottom drawer of her desk, eagerness to spread the news practically vibrating off her.
She’d have Marnie’s return broadcast to half the town before she finished her first bite of salad.
“Now don’t be a stranger, Marnie. I’d just love to sit down and catch up one afternoon.
And I can’t wait until your little studio opens.
It’s been too long since we had a family portrait done.
Not since our youngest was born. He’s the cutest thing. You’ll just love him.”
She shot out the door as fast as her designer heels would carry her, and the silence in her wake was like a breath of fresh air.
“I should apologize for her,” Blaze said, shaking his head, “but it wouldn’t do any good. She is who she is, and that’ll never change.”
“She’s never bothered me. She helped thicken my skin when I was still in grade school.”
“I’ll bet.” He gestured toward his office. “Come on back. I’ve got the paperwork ready for you.”
His office was small and sparsely furnished. A large L-shaped desk with two computer monitors dominated the space. A file cabinet sat in the corner, and a single bookshelf filled with a hodgepodge of books and photographs and knickknacks stood next to it.
The photographs caught her attention, as they always did.
The faces staring back fascinated her. A pretty woman with dark hair cut in a pixie style smiled into the camera with laughing brown eyes.
The look on her face was flirtatious and a little bit mischievous, and Marnie knew automatically that Blaze had to have been behind the camera when that shot was taken.
The woman held two little boys on her lap.
“They’re beautiful,” she said, touching the edge of the frame gently.
“I think so,” he said with a smile that softened his whole face. “But the youngest one is going to be a handful. Mom says I’m getting what I deserve with that one.”
“I’m glad you’re happy. It shows.”
His expression gentled. “And I’m sorry you’re not. We’ve always considered you part of the family, even during the years when we didn’t see you. I hope you know that.”
“I do,” she said, looking over the rental papers he’d slid across the desk so he wouldn’t see the tears that suddenly filled her eyes. “This is a good start toward that happiness. It’s where I need to be.”
“Good.” He settled into his chair, watching her with those keen blue eyes. “Mom said to tell you to come to dinner tonight. Most of the family’s going to be there. And she said no excuses because she knows you won’t feel like grocery shopping and there’s no food in the rental house.”
“I’d never argue with Simone.”
He grinned. “I always said you were a smart girl.”