Ophelia (Hamlet 2)

“Mrs. Walsh, I didn’t see you sitting there. What brings you down to the station?”

The older woman rapped her hands on the top of the large tupperware container resting on her lap. From what Maria could see, it looked like enough food to feed half of Hamlet.

“For Mason,” she explained in a clear, melodic voice Maria recalled from her childhood. How many years did she sit there, listening to Mrs. Walsh speak in an effort to better her English? Three? Four? “Since my boy moved into a place of his own, I can’t be sure he’s eating a home-cooked meal if I don’t come down and bring him one from time to time.”

It was such a considerate, motherly thing to say. And though her Mama had been gone for more than six years now, Maria still felt the pang.

Not that she would ever let anyone see that.

Choosing to remain standing, she wrapped her arms around her middle in a comforting hug as she continued with the small talk that was not only encouraged in Hamlet but expected, too.

“How have you been? How’s school?”

“Fine, fine. Smaller class than usual, but what can you do?” Mason’s mother shook her head sadly. “We haven’t had any new families move in in some time, and the children are growing up faster than we can replace them. I know I’m still waiting for my son to give me grandbabies but, well, I might be waiting for some time yet.” A long drawn out sigh followed, though her eyes—a warm shade of cocoa, just like her son—twinkled. “My boy, he’s married to his job.”

It was a common complaint about law enforcement. Hamlet gossip ran that Sheriff McKinley’s wife was the reason he took an early retirement. Willie Parker’s husband was long gone, though Maria heard that had more to do with an outsider waitress than her position as one of Hamlet’s deputies. And, of course, Lucas often accused Caitlin of choosing her job over him.

Then again, Cait always retorted that Lucas was just as devoted to his work—and if she was his wife in the eyes of God and the courts, then his flashy red Mustang was definitely his mistress. She was insanely jealous of his car.

Caitlin was, admittedly, insanely jealous of anything when it came to her husband.

Not for the first time, it amazed Maria that Caitlin and Lucas hadn’t thrown in the towel yet. Even Mrs. Birmingham could see that those stubborn idiots were clinging to a broken marriage, and the old dear lost her sight more than a decade ago!

“You know, Maria, I always thought you two might—”

A deer in headlights. Beneath the fringe of her new bangs, Maria felt her eyes widen in panic as her friendly smile froze in place. She didn’t want to offend Mrs. Walsh but her? And Mason?

Because they were in the same classes through high school, Maria had a front row seat to the trainwreck that was his unfortunate two-year relationship with Lindalee Murphy. She was a pretty girl—and an outsider—who was so smothered by Mason’s attentions that she escaped Hamlet the first chance she had in order to get away from him.

Mase was handsome and kind and certainly an asset to the sheriff’s department. But to date him?

Non succede mai. No way in hell.

Her expression must have given her away. Mrs. Walsh chortled, leaning out of her seat in order to pat Maria sweetly on her hip. It was as high as the petite woman could reach with Maria refusing to sit. “Just a thought, dear. Just a thought.”

3

Why don’t you sit down? These chairs are quite comfortable.”

Maria shook her head. “I’m fine. Thank you, though.”

Valerie Walsh only had one child—her beloved boy, Mason—but she raised dozens of others as one of the few teachers who ran the Hamlet school. She remembered Maria De Angelis vividly. The dark-haired beauty was a wonderful pupil, very sweet and extremely hard-working, though she had a stubborn streak that came from being spoiled and coddled, first by her parents, then by her older brother.

She remembered Lucas De Angelis, too. Handsome. Far too intelligent for his own good. Guarded in a way that left many of the adults in town wondering what went on inside that head of his.

As a doctor, his skills were unrivaled in Hamlet. She had a touch of bronchitis last winter and Lucas fixed her right up. All the same, she was grateful that her son drove her to every appointment. It made her feel better, knowing that Mason was out in the waiting room as Dr. De Angelis eyed her like he expected her to end up in his morgue.

Maria stayed on her feet. No surprise there. “I’m sure Willie will be back soon,” she said in that raspy, accented voice of hers.

Mrs. Walsh let out a soft tsk. “One would think. Except I’ve been waiting for Mason to return Wilhelmina’s page for close to half an hour now. If the sheriff is out on patrol, it might be just as long before she checks in to find us waiting here.”

That was the biggest downside to Hamlet’s standard radios. Most of the residents carried one—their answer to a personal cell phone—and there were countless channels for the professionals in town, but there wasn’t any way to leave a message or let someone know they’ve been buzzed. If a call was missed, it was as if it didn’t exist.

Maria knew that better than anyone. Though she wasn’t absent-minded in the least, she had a habit of leaving her radio in her bedroom so that she could avoid certain people buzzing her. Not that that ever stopped Lucas. If he didn’t hear from her, he just drove over to the house to check up on her.

“That’s true,” Maria agreed.

“Come. Sit. And tell me all about how your little project is going. Opening soon?”