Page 23 of Apple of My Eye

Voices were raised, slicing through the usual hum of conversation. One old man confronting another.

“I’m telling you, Brewster’s the only one willing to shake things up?—”

“And I’m telling you that boy doesn’t know a damn thing about this county!”

“Trevor can figure it out. This county needs fresh blood at the helm.”

“No. We need Sheriff Patrick and his years ofexperience?—”

They stood nearly chest to chest, faces flushed, hands gesturing in tight, agitated movements. Neither was backing down, and both probably waited for an excuse to argue long before this morning with nothing better to do.

Harper thrust herself between them, hands braced on her hips, her expression somewhere between fed up and ready to throw them both out by force.

“You two either lower your voices or take it outside,” she snapped. “I’m not hosting a fight club here.”

“I don’t take direction from the sheriff’s wife,” the Brewster supporter retorted. “Go back to the kitchen where you belong.”

Colt and Ash shot to their feet to defend her. I set the crates down, and I stepped in beside them. No-one messes with a friend of the ODRR.

“That’s enough,” Daisy yelled, raising her voice with plenty of weight behind it.

The idiot turned on her, ready to argue, but I stepped in, growling, filling the space in a way that made it clear he’d be taking his life in his own hands if he moved another inch on her. Colt crossed his arms, his expression harsh enough with a cocked eyebrow that the man second-guessed himself.

Grumbling under their breaths, both men backed off, returning to separate tables with the reluctance that said they’d pick it back up later if given the chance. The ODRR men stood down, returning to their mugs of coffee.

Harper exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through her hair and returning to the counter. “Every damn day. This election can’t be over fast enough. I swear, I’m about two seconds from putting up a sign on the door that says no politics allowed.”

“Pretty sure that goes against the First Amendment,” Daisy said, leaning her hip against the counter.

“Don’t care,” Harper shot back, already turning away. “I need peace to return to my shop.”

The bell rang again, and Sheriff Patrick and a couple of his deputies stepped inside; his presence was enough for the room to simmer down without him saying a word.

At the counter, he took one look at Harper. “Is everything all right?”

She forced a smile that didn’t quite stick. “Fine. Just another morning in Forest Grove, debating over the election.”

He didn’t buy it, but he didn’t press.

Daisy stepped forward, her posture adjusting.

“Actually… I was hoping to talk to you, Sheriff, if you have a minute?”

That caught my attention immediately.

The sheriff nodded. “Go ahead.”

“Well…” She hesitated for half a beat, then pushed through it. “I’ve been going through my dad’s journals. There are several entries about your dad and things they were looking into. He mentions the Brewsters, and vehicles, and property lines,” she continued, her voice steady. “But then I realized how they both passed within a short time of each other. I don’t know if it’s anything, but it felt worth mentioning to you.”

The sheriff schooled his expression. “Can you bring those journals by the station? I’d like to take a look.”

She nodded. “I will.”

He tipped his hat and moved toward Harper for his coffee she had waiting for him.

I held back, my mind turning overwhat Daisy had just said. Things she’d been carrying around without saying a word. Not to me, anyway. Would there ever be a day she trusted me with more than just friendship?

Sage set a coffee down in front of Daisy a little harder than necessary. “You want to explain why I’m just now hearing about these things Dad wrote?”