Page 5 of By the Book

“Sorry, some of us aren’t on vacation,” I shoot back with my own smart-ass smile. “How was it down there?”

“Not much warmer than here, actually. But really cool. The culture was so interesting, and they make our historic landmarks seem brand new.”

I nod, accepting the glass the bartender slides my way. “When do you head back out? Same place?”

“Well… nowhere, maybe. I’m thinking about sticking around instead.”

I freeze with my drink halfway to my lips. “Seriously? I know I’ve given you shit about how much you travel, but are you actually over it?”

“It’s not that I’m over it… I think I’m just ready to establish something for myself. Dad started his firm around our age, Ivy has a whole freaking business already, and you’re the sheriff. What have I done to put down my own roots? Nothing.”

“What would you do here?” I ask, taking a drink.

“I don’t want to be another general practitioner in town, but maybe do something more crisis focused.”

“You should ask Hayden about what he’s got going on,” I suggest.

“I wasn’t thinking crisis like becoming a firefighter?—"

“No, he’s starting a new type of team for the county. Even if you don’t stay long term, it might be interesting.”

“I’ll check it out,” Wes agrees. “Thanks. Oh, and you’re the only person I’ve mentioned this to, so don’t go saying anything at my parents’ party.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“How’s life as the sheriff?”

“It’s a lot more paperwork.”

He chuckles, finishing his drink and motioning for a second. “No, seriously? How are things going?”

“There’s a vandalism situation happening, and I’d like to get a handle on it soon. People are going to get too restless if it keeps on.”

“You’re a hometown hero, I think you’ll be fine.”

What I don’t bring up is the heaping amount of self-doubt that comes with this new job too. That’s not something I would talk about with anyone but my grandfather anyway. And he’s gone.

I take another swig of my beer and set my focus on the game playing out on the TV behind the bar. It’s only been a few months; I’ll find my footing. I just have to find a vandal first.

Chapter 3

Tripp

The Taylor house is a sprawling federal colonial with polished details. From the ivory siding to the copper gutters and black shutters, it’s the picture of New England charm. It’s also a far cry from the fishing cottage I grew up in, but the Taylors never made me feel anything but comfortable all the same.

The place will be packed. Everyone in town loves events hosted by the Taylor family. Wes and I were inseparable growing up, and his parents, Ruth and Howard, brought me into their family with open arms. My parents had been deemed unfit before I reached the age of two, and I was swiftly signed over to my grandfather, moving from Boston to Foxport as a small child. I had never wanted for anything; Pops was fair and caring. He loved this town and taught me to love it too. Even after he passed, I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. Foxport is home. And besides Pops, the Taylors were the next closest thing I had to family.

Parking on the street, I reach over to my passenger seat and grab the cigars and chocolates resting there. Wes had texted me earlier today asking me to pick up the cigars and I’d happily obliged. It was tradition for Wes, Howard, and me to sneak awayfor cigars during big moments. The chocolates I’d gotten earlier this week, knowing the intended recipient would welcome a distraction in all the merriment.

I follow the driveway on foot, passing under the porte cochere and being thrust into the celebration at hand. The driveway ends at an oversized garage and carriage house at the edge of the yard. Turning towards the house, I take in the manicured lawn and stone patio where a crowd has formed. Pig already roasting in the corner of the yard, Howard is up on the patio getting ready to hold court.

“Can I have everyone’s attention, please,” he booms into the evening. A tall, lean man, Howard exudes confidence and ease. With Wes, his near twin, at his left, and Ruth, his elegant wife, on his right, they draw everyone’s eye. But one member of their family is not up in the spotlight.

My eyes scan the yard. I notice a few friends but not the person I’m looking for.

And then there she is. Her perfectly coiled hair is half pulled back in an ivory bow. The bow matches her sweater that sits tastefully cropped, the hem skimming the top of her little plaid skirt. Beautiful, poised, and ever the wallflower. Even at her own family’s party.

Ivy

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