It was a busy scene. Dennis was strapped into the toddler seat on the swing, with Danny, Carol’s younger grandson, pushing him to what Joanna considered breathtaking heights. Rick, the older boy, was practicing pitching tennis balls into the far distance, with three of their collection of dogs-Jenny’s Tigger and Lucky along with the Sundersons’ sheltie, Scamp-racing to retrieve them. Joanna’s more dignified Australian shepherd, Lady, was content to look on from the sidelines while Jenny practiced her lassoing technique on the handle of the teeter-totter.
Joanna parked in the garage. Not ready to face the house, she left her briefcase on the car seat and went to see the kids.
Over the months, she had found plenty of reasons to be grateful for the tragedy that had brought Carol and her two boys into the picture. After a fierce trailer fire left Carol’s husband dead and her and the two boys homeless, it had been Joanna’s mother, Eleanor, who had come up with the idea of letting Carol and the grandsons live in Joanna’s old house on High Lonesome Ranch in exchange for helping manage Joanna and Butch’s sometimes chaotic household. The arrangement gave Carol a job that came with a stable place for her and the children to live. Within weeks of Carol’s arrival on the scene neither Butch nor Joanna could imagine how they had functioned without her.
The Gang of Four was a natural outgrowth of that arrangement. Over the months the four kids had become pretty much inseparable. Despite the age differences, they seemed to get along fine. Jenny had taken it upon herself to teach Rick and Danny both how to ride her sorrel quarter horse, Kiddo. And all three of the older kids were tremendously patient with Dennis, whom they regarded alternately as either an annoying pest or else a beloved mascot.
Hearing Dennis’s gleeful squawk, Joanna realized this had to be one of the mascot days.
“Hey, Mom,” Jenny said. She caught the handlebar with her rope, shook it off, and then recoiled it to throw it again. “Butch and Carol threw us out. They’re setting up for the party and said no kids or dogs allowed.”
All of which made good sense.
“But we get to have pizza for dinner,” Danny added. “Pepperoni. Wanna come?”
“She can’t,” Jenny told him. “She’s got to go to the party.”
Joanna had grown up as an only child. She had been an adult when she finally met her older brother, who had been given up for adoption long before her parents married. Jenny, too, had spent most of her young life as an only child. With that kind of background, Joanna had been amazed to see how the four kids managed to cope with one another. Sometimes the four were all the best of friends; sometimes they weren’t. Joanna often found herself wondering if that wasn’t how real sisters and brothers functioned.
There was a redwood picnic table next to the gym, and Joanna eased herself onto one of the benches. “I think I’d rather have pizza,” she said.
Jenny gave her mother a questioning look and then came over to sit down beside her. Jenny was about to turn fifteen, but she was already a good five inches taller than her mother and still growing.
“What’s wrong, Mom?” Jenny asked. “Are you okay?”
“The best man seems to be having a case of nerves,” Joanna admitted. “I’ve never been to a bachelor party, much less hosted one.”
“I don’t know why you’re worried about it,” Jenny told her. “You should be used to doing weird things by now. You’ll be fine.”
Joanna couldn’t help laughing at that bit of reassurance. That one word-weird-pretty well said it all. In Jenny’s book, having her mother be sheriff or “best man” was pretty much one and the same.
Danny let Dennis out of the swing and he came racing toward Joanna at a toddler’s broken-field dead run. “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy,” he squealed gleefully, hurtling himself into her lap. “Denny swing! Denny swing.”
“I saw you,” she said, gathering him into her arms. “What a big boy you are.”
She hung out with the kids for a while, but before long Carol emerged from the house. “All right, kids,” she said. “Time to gather up and head out. We’ll keep the dogs at our house tonight. Except for Lady, of course.”
Scamp and the kids piled into Carol’s station wagon and she drove away, with Lucky and Tigger trailing behind. Meanwhile Lady shadowed Joanna as she closed the garage door, collected her briefcase, and went inside.
“What can I do to help?” she asked.
Glancing at his watch, Butch came over to kiss her hello. “Not a thing,” he said. “Carol and I have it all under control. The rented card tables and chairs are all set up, the food and drinks are in the fridge, chips and dips are out. All you need to do is get dressed. And you’d better hurry. People will be here soon.”
Joanna disappeared into the bedroom and stripped out of her uniform. She had bought a bright green blouse to wear with her jeans that night, along with a pair of boots that she had inherited from Jenny when her daughter outgrew them. As for Jenny appropriating some of her mother’s clothing? Jenny’s last sustained growth spurt made that no longer an issue.
With her hair combed and her makeup retouched, Joanna headed out to the living room to play hostess just as the first guest arrived. In terms of food, Butch and Carol had clearly outdone themselves. They had assembled an inspiring array of chips and dips and salsas to serve as ice-breaking snacks. Knowing that most of the guests would have a law enforcement background, Frank had insisted that his bachelor party would be a booze-free zone. Since Frank was now joining Joanna in a media fishbowl, she had applauded the decision. Neither she nor Frank could afford to have any of their officers picked up and charged with post-party drunk driving.
Frank had also made his wishes clear when it came to proposed party entertainment. He placed an absolute embargo on the idea of strippers. Period. He and Butch had settled instead, on the idea of a roast augmented by a charitable poker party, with all proceeds from Texas Hold’Em going to Frank’s charity of choice, the Jail Ministry. Since this would be considered social gambling, there had been no need to purchase any kind of gaming license, but just to be sure, Butch had checked out the applicable statutes with the county attorney well in advance of the party. His inquiry to Arlee Jones’s office had given Butch the information he needed, but it had also backfired and generated a minor tempest all its own due to the fact that Arlee-also at Frank’s behest-hadn’t been invited to the party.
The guests arrived one and two at a time. With the exception of a couple of relatives, most of the guests came from Frank Montoya’s world of work. Some were old colleagues and some new colleagues. To begin with, the two sets of folks seemed to stalk around one another, stiff-legged and suspicious, until Butch’s smooth program of hospitality began to work its magic. Before long, people were laughing and talking and settling in to have fun.
In advance of dinner being served, Ted Chapman, the Jail Ministry’s executive director, circulated among the snack-munching guests hawking poker chips. “Best of luck to you,” he said with a smile each time he managed to extract a twenty- or thirty-buck donation from someone’s pocket. “And don’t worry. There are plenty more where these came from. God does provide, you know,” he sometimes added with a wink.
Joanna’s mother and stepfather had delayed their planned springtime departure for Minnesota long enough to enjoy the festivities. That meant George Winfield was there on his own. As M.E. emeritus, he seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. To Joanna’s considerable relief, Guy Machett was a welcome no-show. The last guest to arrive was Frank’s older brother Thomas, who had driven down from Phoenix. When Joanna opened the door and found him on the porch, she felt more than a little guilty. By rights, Thomas Montoya should have been Frank’s top choice for best man, but he didn’t seem the least bit offended by the oversight. He greeted Joanna warmly, first with a handshake and then, after a moment’s consideration, with a hug as well.