Page 8 of Families and Other Enemies

CHAPTER FOUR

KATERI’SPLANWASSIMPLE, and she explained it over the best blueberry pie Kellen had ever had in her life. “You’ll help at the food bank.”

Kellen looked up from the perfectly golden crust and the sweet filling flowing like slow lava across the plate. “The food bank? How’s that going to help?”

“There’s one attached to the Catholic church. They always need a hand.”

“I meant—how is that going to help me? Not to be crass—”

“And selfish?”

“And selfish! But I’m the one with my tit in a wringer. Yay for helping the needy, but I’ve got a kid to worry about.”

Kateri cackled. No other word for it, she cackled. “For you...well, it would be good to touch base with the homeless and mentally ill.”

“Find out what real problems look like?” Kellen was feeling snappish. But the pie did help, as well as the cinnamon ice cream. Who would have thought Virtue Falls would have a gourmet diner?

“Kind of. More of a reminder, really. Back in the day, I remember a story that you used to live on the streets.” Kateri sipped her coffee. “That’s how you rescued Max’s niece, right? And met Max. And got involved.” Kateri wasn’t kidding—she did know all the history.

“Yes. That’s how it all started.” Kellen stared into the pie as if it were a Magic 8-Ball, designed to answer her questions about fate and the future. “The streets were a definite low point. Philadelphia is rough.”

“I’ll bet. Anyway, if you can talk to the needy folks of Virtue Falls, maybe talking to Rae won’t seem as frightening.”

That did make sense. But—”I can’t cook. I mean, C rations, but that’s about all.”

“You can chop. Me, I go once a week. As sheriff, it’s a good way to keep in touch with the community and get to know the less fortunate in Virtue Falls.” Kateri sighed. “We’ve got more homeless living on the streets than you would think.”

Kellen considered for a moment. She didn’t really think she would be helpful at a food bank, but right now, what was she good for? “When do I report to work?”

“Tomorrow at nine. Bridget’s the director. I told her you’d be there.”

“Never a doubt on your part?”

“Not one.”

THENEWOWNERof the bed-and-breakfast had put Kellen into the attic, a pretty spacious place, and after Kateri’s lecture about the limited number of rooms in town, Kellen didn’t understand how she scored—until the owner reluctantly admitted someone had been murdered in that attic. The guest who had been scheduled for the room checked in, discovered its history and checked out in a hurry, leaving the space free for Kellen.

Kellen was fine with that. She didn’t believe in ghosts. It was the living who caused all her problems...

Her hand hovered over her phone.

She needed to call Max and Rae, update them, let them know where she was, what she was doing, when she would be...home.

Not home. She had never lived at the winery. She’d never been to the winery. But seven years ago, after Kellen woke from her coma, a year of her life erased from her mind, she had walked out, joined the military and disappeared. Max had taken their baby and come to run the Di Luca family winery in Oregon’s Willamette Valley. It was a place he could start anew, without memories and heartbreak. With his mother’s help, he had raised Rae to be a delightful girl. And the way Kellen was acting, one would think Rae was a monster.

Kellen picked up the phone and punched in the number. She really really really really hoped Max didn’t ans—

“Kellen?” Max’s voice held all the notes: worry, fury, concern, indignation.

He had been her lover, and those tones felt like a warm coat enveloping her. A coat with a tag sticking right at her neckline, and that was the guilt jabbing at her. “Yes, it’s Kellen. I’m fine. Wanted to check in. I’m in Virtue Falls.”

“Virtue Falls?”

Kellen could almost see him straighten up.

MAX DI LUCA:

MALE, 30S, 6'5", 220 LBS, PREDOMINATELY ITALIAN ANCESTRY, FORMER FOOTBALL PLAYER. HANDSOME, TANNED, CURLY BLACK HAIR, BROWN EYES SURROUNDED BY LONG BLACK LASHES THAT WAVED A SULTRY INVITATION EVERY TIME SHE LOOKED HIS WAY...

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