At least the tents and booths were set up along paved paths in the park so he didn’t have to tackle more of the uneven ground. The crowds of people had to be difficult enough.
“Don’t worry,” she told him. “The kids will lose interest as soon as they realize the booths mostly have arts and crafts and not toys. We’ll grab the kettle corn first so that’s out of the way, then just stop at a few booths and call it good.”
“I’m doing fine,” he answered. “Feel free to look as long as you’d like. If I need to, I can go into the main food tent to sit down and warm up.”
He did seem to be doing okay, much to her relief. His color was good and she could see no sign of those pain lines etched too often at the edges of his mouth. He was only a week out of surgery and she knew his leg had to be hurting, but she had a feeling he would never admit it, even if it felt like rats were gnawing on his ankle bone.
In only a few moments, she was reminded again that he appeared to be well liked and well respected. He greeted many of the people they passed by name and stopped to chat with a few.
She was interested to see he nodded to—but didn’t stop to chat with—a couple of his deputies who were wearing uniforms but didn’t seem to be doing anything official other than talking to each other and a man in a fancy Stetson. All three of the men greeted him cordially, but she sensed the enmity simmering in them.
“Do you know everyone from Shelter Springs and Haven Point?” she asked in wonder, when they finally made their way to the concessions tents.
He gave a gruff laugh. “Not even close. It’s good to see so many new people moving in—especially now that the Caine Tech facility is up and running. New blood is good for a town. You keep things fresh and interesting.”
He wasn’t talking about her specifically, she reminded herself. Just her status as a newcomer to town.
She had to wonder how long it might take for the transition from newcomer to old-timer. Probably a few decades, at least.
“Something smells so good,” Will exclaimed.
“You got that right, kid,” Marshall said.
Andie had to agree with them. Kettle corn just might be one of the more addictive smells in the universe.
The kettle corn was a hit, of course. Sugar and popcorn. What was there not to like in that particular pairing? Chloe and Will both begged for their own small bag and she relented, even though she knew neither would be able to finish. They could always take it home. Remembering Marshall’s sweet tooth, she bought another medium-sized bag for him. After the cashier handed it to her, she held it out to the sheriff. “This one’s yours. I’ll carry it until we’re back in the car, but do you want some now?”
He gave her a “hell yeah” kind of look that made her smile.
“Unlike the rest of us, you’re not going to be able to walk and eat. This looks like a good place to stop for a minute.”
They paused beside one of the convenient kerosene heaters and she opened the bag and held it out to him. He leaned on one of the crutches and ate a few kernels from the bag.
It was a strangely intimate moment. He had to be close enough to reach the popcorn and she could feel the heat emanating from him, smell the woodsy, outdoorsy scent of his aftershave.
These were the sort of memories that stuck with a person for a long time—the delectable scents drifting around, the magical Christmas lights twinkling along with the stars overhead and the lake gleaming in the background. The sounds of holiday music and conversation and children’s laughter.
In that moment, she couldn’t imagine anywhere she would rather be.
“Sheriff Bailey! What are you doing here?”
At the shocked exclamation, Andie turned to find a woman in her forties staring at Marshall as if he had just dropped in out of nowhere by parachute.
He flashed the woman a warmer smile than anything he’d yet to give Andie. “Hi, Jackie. Right now, I’m eating some excellent kettle corn. Really excellent. You should try some.”
The other woman looked aghast. “I mean, what are you doing here at the festival? These crowds can’t be good for you. You should be home with your leg up where it’s warm and safe.”
He didn’t look very excited about that suggestion.
“Jackie, this is my neighbor Andie Montgomery. These are her kids, Chloe and Will. Andie, this is my administrative assistant, Jackie Scott.”
Andie smiled, but Jackie barely paid her any attention as she looked at Marshall like a mother cat wanting to pick up one of her kittens by the scruff of the neck. “I can’t imagine your doctors would agree a crowded festival is a safe place for you. It’s wall-to-wall people and nobody is watching where he’s going. You’re still trying to heal. You should be home in bed with your leg up.”