A Forever Christmas(50)



He did his best to look as if he was scowling at his sister. He and Angel had gone directly home with the tree, not stopping to talk to anyone. How the hell did Alma find out?

“Who told you?” he asked.

“I have my sources,” she informed him smugly.

“Mona saw you when she was coming home after paying Ed Sawyer’s colicky mare a visit,” Joe Lone Wolf told him matter-of-factly in his monotone voice. Gabe turned around to look at the sheriff’s brother-in-law. Joe shrugged, as if the outcome had been predestined and inevitable. “She told me, I told Alma.”

Gabe sighed. He should have known that nothing remained secret or private in Forever. Some things just took longer to get around than others. But they all got around eventually.

He shrugged as he sat down with the coffee he’d gotten at Miss Joan’s when he’d dropped Angel off. It was still steaming.

“No big deal,” he told his sister with an indifferent shrug. Removing the lid, he tossed it into the wastebasket. He figured the coffee wasn’t going to last him long enough to require being covered again.

“No big deal?” Alma echoed, getting up and crossing to his desk. “When I asked you at Thanksgiving if you needed any help in picking out a Christmas tree for your new place, you gave me a ten-minute speech about ‘not needing any commercial trappings’ to remind you what holiday to celebrate.” Making no effort to suppress the grin on her lips, she pinned him down with a penetrating look. “As I recall, you were pretty adamant.”

Gabe took a long sip of his coffee as he looked away. “So I changed my mind,” he said with a touch of impatience. “It happens.”

Alma’s grin turned into an utterly enigmatic smile. “Yes, it seems that it certainly does.”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he warned her.

“Okay,” Alma agreed. “No big deal.” She pinned him with a look. “Does that mean you don’t care if I got any responses to that poster of Angel I sent out?”

He hadn’t thought he could switch from being seemingly casual to a man on tactical alert in under a second, but he could and he did.

“Did you?” he demanded sharply.

“Then you do care,” Alma concluded.

“Alma, give me a straight answer to my question or so help me…”

When his voice trailed off, she jumped right in. “So help you what? Help you level with your sister?” Alma suggested.

Joe rose, unfolding his lanky torso. “I think I’ll look in on Ben, see how our resident town drunk is doing this morning,” Joe said to no one in particular.

“See if he’s sober and ready to go back to his wife,” Alma called after Joe’s departing back.

“It’s either one or the other. If he’s sober, he won’t be ready to go back to his wife,” Joe pointed out without turning around.

Turning back to her brother, she coaxed, “Why don’t you just admit that Angel’s gotten to you? After all, she’s beautiful, bright, cooks up a storm and anyone with eyes can see that she’s just crazy about you.” Alma rested her case. “In short, she’s everything I ever wanted for you.”

“Fine, ‘Mom.’” He deliberately inclined his head submissively, although he did manage to keep the sarcasm down. “She’s gotten to me. Now answer the question. Has anyone called about the poster?”

Alma dropped her teasing attitude and shook her head.

“Not so far, no.” She felt obligated to add a coda to that. “The posters probably got lost in the shuffle.”

“Most people don’t pay that much attention to something that comes via snail mail these days,” the sheriff commented.

Brother and sister turned to look toward Rick’s office. Their boss was standing outside the doorway, nursing what amounted to his third cup of hot tar.

“How long have you been standing there?” Alma asked.

Though Rick was generally affable, Alma was the only one in the office who ever challenged him or acted as if they were basically on the same level. She’d been with the sheriff’s department the longest length of time and figured that put her on close to equal footing with Rick.

“Long enough to decide that there isn’t a brother and sister on earth who don’t argue,” Rick replied, a half smile on his lips. “So, no takers for our amnesia victim?” he asked, looking to confirm what he’d overheard.

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