Sierra Falls (Sierra Falls 1)

Damned pickup. It had one of those mini backseats that took forever to wrangle her aunts into. She’d wanted a sedan, but Frank had insisted. She slammed her hands on the wheel. She had no use for a damned pickup.

If she couldn’t get unstuck, she’d be late to pick up the ladies. Her aunts and mother were a trio, the famous Kidd sisters, Emerald, Pearl, and Ruby, the youngest a spry eighty-two.

And if she was late to pick them up, they’d all be late for the historical society meeting, and then she’d never hear the end of that. The ladies lived for their meetings.

Marlene had enough trouble on that front, as it was. She’d stupidly taken on the role of chairwoman, and they were a day late and a dollar short planning and funding the annual Sierra Falls festival.

It was one of the many quirky events Northern California was known for. Gilroy had their Garlic Festival. Other towns had cherry blossoms, chili cook-offs, art walks, and quilt shows. For Sierra Falls, it was the Spring Fling held every May. It was just January yet, but their coffers were empty. They could host town hall bingo till they were blue in the face, and it wouldn’t be enough to cover a pie-throw much less a whole festival.

No, she needed to get to that meeting. She petted the dashboard, coaxing, “Come on, girl. Just back us out of here, and I’ll buy you a nice set of snow tires. ”

Marlene hit the gas only to hear that horrible, high-pitched whirring again. With a heavy sigh, she sank her forehead against the wheel.

She’d have to call one of her boys, but which one? Though Jack and Eddie lived the closest, she’d hate to bother them—they’d started Jessup Brothers Construction and had been running around like one-armed paperhangers ever since.

There was always Jack’s wife, Tina, but she was never around during the day. Or maybe her daughter-in-law only seemed to disappear whenever Marlene needed her. God only knew how the woman occupied her daylight hours—their son was a senior in high school and almost completely independent, so it wasn’t that she was toodling around, driving carpools. Regardless, Marlene wasn’t about to call her.

She couldn’t call Mark either—he was a doctor in Silver City, and as she recalled, this was his on-call day.

That left Scott. He worked as a park ranger for the Sierra Nevada Conservancy—his truck would surely be able to get her unstuck. He was her second oldest, her easy, smiling boy.

She rifled in her purse for her phone. Where had the years gone? Her boy had turned thirty-four on his last birthday.

It was getting real cold, real fast in the cab of the truck, but she had to pull off her gloves to dial, and her fingers fumbled over the tiny cell phone buttons.

There was a rapping on the window, and Marlene jumped about a foot off the seat. “Oh!”

She wiped the condensation off with her sleeve, revealing the new sheriff. He was a big man, filling her view, and adrenaline exploded in her chest. She glanced at the rearview mirror and, sure enough, he’d pulled his sheriff’s SUV right up behind her, the white four-wheel drive looming on the narrow shoulder.

Why did the sight of a police car make her panic? She told herself to calm down—she couldn’t have been speeding, she hadn’t even been moving. Marlene rolled down the window. “Did I…is there something wrong?”

“Everything all right, Mrs. Jessup?” Billy Preston’s eyes were warm and concerned.

She put a hand to her chest, relieved. She wasn’t in trouble—he was worried about her. This new sheriff was a nice young gentleman.

“Please,” she said. “Call me Marlene. Jessup was my husband’s name. There’s another Mrs. Jessup now. ” That last bit had come out a bit snappier than she’d meant it to.

“All right, Marlene,” he said slowly. His eyes went to her hands, and she realized they were shaking even more than before. “Are you okay?”

“I think I am…I don’t know. Maybe not. ” She wriggled her fingers, then tried to put her gloves back on. Why was her body not cooperating? “It’s hell growing old. Beats the alternative, I suppose. ” She gave a shake to her head. Maybe the cold was getting to her—she was rambling like a crazy woman.

The sheriff opened the door and escorted her out. “Let’s get you in my truck. You warm up, I’ll shovel you out, and we’ll get you on your way. ”

She looked back over her shoulder at her pickup. The snowbank wasn’t high, but she’d managed to get her front wheels firmly entrenched. “The darned thing was skidding all over the place,” she explained.

Cars whooshed by as they walked along the shoulder, and she found her legs were trembling, too.

“Easy, Marlene. ” He chafed warmth into her arm.

She leaned into him, a reassuringly solid man at her side. “I think I’m just cold is all. ”

“I’ll blast the heat. You’ll feel better in no time. ” He settled her in the front seat, and as promised, he cranked the heat all the way up.

She put her hands over the vents, relieved to feel the hot air blowing up the sleeves of her coat. How had she gotten so jittery? She wasn’t a jittery sort of woman. She breathed deeply, trying to calm down.

“Something sweet is what you need. ” Billy pulled a foil-wrapped sack from atop the dash. “Apple cinnamon bread. Still warm from the oven. ”

She looked up, eyes wide. “You cook?”