Chapter 3Lydia had almost managed to forget that Ilse Jackson had volunteered her café for a meeting. This had eased her mind considerably and allowed her to indulge in her favorite activity—obsessing about the sheriff—but left her a bit underprepared. That was why she found herself that sunny, blistering afternoon in July, rolling up little bites of fruit into flaky pie dough while her finally healthy helper washed the dishes.
“Are you better, Billy?” she asked the lad as she pinched the turnovers shut. Her damp hair stuck to her forehead and her sweaty dress clung to her skin.
“Uh-huh, yes, ma'am,” Billy replied, splashing happily in the sink. Though his voice slurred due to his impairment, Lydia had long since learned to understand him. “I was awful sick, but I'm better now.”
“I was
