Someone for Everybody Pt. 01

PROLOG

This is the first part, of two, of the second story in my WHIRLWIND series; resurrected from an old thumb drive. They are unrelated stories with a common theme; each one is based on a short, slightly unusual courtship, with a primary female character who believes that she cannot find love for some reason -- and a primary male character determined to prove her wrong. There is no sex in this part.

SOMEONE FOR EVERYBODY - Part 1

CHAPTER 1 -- There is a new sheriff in town

Forget the cheerful bar where everyone knows your name. There are still small towns here and there in America where everyone not only knows your name, but also what you had for breakfast, why you are in a bad mood today... and thinks they know how to run your love life better than you do.

Lillian Horner gulped her coffee as she rocketed into the Hollister town limits in a quite elderly pickup truck, which might actually be considered a classic if she was more mechanically inclined and didn't usually fix things with duct tape, where possible. The worn tires squealed slightly as she made a last second, jerky swerve around Collin Aster as he bicycled by the side of the road delivering papers. If she had looked in the rearview mirror, she would have seen him wave. He was running a little late this morning and she usually blew by him when he was passing Miss Kelly's driveway a little further down the block.

She skidded to a stop in the lot of the Hollister Metro Diner, open for breakfast and lunch, and jumped out, running up to the door and sliding her key in the lock at exactly 5:45 am. There were two other cars in the lot; Judy Finster, her cook, and Doug Smothers, her first customer every morning. Her waitress, Adele, would be along in five minutes, definitely yawning, possibly in her slippers.

Lillian was only normally rushed as she turned on the lights and flipped the sign to 'OPEN,' at least until she saw the large note on the board she had left for herself yesterday. She was catering a late afternoon reception at the city hall for the installation of the new sheriff. She became frantic, and spun around to confront Judy. "Judy, did you...?"

Judy walked past, her long, pale grey hair in a tight bun on the back of her head and already wrapped securely in a hair net. "Already done, Lillian. I finished last night just before going home. Everything is in the fridge, right side back." She didn't bother to say, "Relax," because she knew Lillian well enough to know she wouldn't.

Lillian, shifting back to merely rushed held open the door so that Doug could shuffle in with his walker. "Good morning, Doug," she said automatically, not listening to the grunted response. Doug was notoriously cranky before his first cup of coffee; after that he was the sweetest gentleman. He would have a quick breakfast which hadn't varied in years, and then he would take one of Judy's blueberry muffins, hot and moist, to his wife of 62 years who was in the county nursing home with Alzheimers. She didn't remember him, but was much better for the staff when he was around. He would be around at lunchtime on his way back home. She would have a small slice of cherry pie ready to cheer him up. Lillian knew her customers.

The morning flew by, as usual, with the ebbing of the late breakfast customers coinciding almost perfectly with the first inrush of early lunch customers. She waited tables when Adele took a break, and she cooked when Judy took a break, and she tended register, cleaned up young Firth's ritually dumped baby food, and generally didn't take a break herself until the last lunch customer said goodbye at about 2:45. After she turned the sign to 'CLOSED' and locked the door, she took a deep breath, closed out the register, and went into the kitchen. Adele was just closing the big stainless steel dishwasher, and Judy was scraping the cooking residue off the broad stainless steel stove next to the table-sized grill. When Lillian had bought the diner and inherited its staff she had had enough money to modernize everything, which raised Judy's morale no end and increased the quality of the food to the point that the diner more than broke even for the first time in a couple of decades. The success had been so great that nearly everyone in town ate here at least once a week and some were regulars you could set your watch by. If old Clyde didn't show up at 9:15, she had standing orders to call Doc Finster and tell him that Clyde had taken too many of his pills again.

Lillian opened her mouth to speak, but Judy beat her to it. "Everything's already in your truck. You just have to drive it there and set it up. I'll be up later to clean up." Judy looked at her like her mother used to before she went off to the movies with 'some boy,' and said, "Try not to take any corners on two wheels and try not to stomp on the accelerator or the brake, the cake is made of flour, sugar, and eggs - not rubber."

Her employer smiled tiredly. "I'll try to remember." Then she went to get changed in her tiny office. When she was done, she paused to look at her faint reflection in the window. Her long brown hair, normally pulled back, was tumbled over her shoulders. Her blue eyes regarded her clothes critically. She wanted to blend in, so she didn't wear her uniform or anything too professional. She had a navy blue skirt, not too short, and a very light weave, white sweater with a round neck. She looked critically at the reflection and tugged the sweater until all but the most discrete trace of cleavage was gone. She slipped out of her sneakers and slipped into white flats.

"Good luck," Adele called as she left the diner and climbed into her pickup.

As Lillian swung into the town center parking lot, her eyes took a check of the cars in the lot. She pretty much knew everyone's vehicle by heart, judge, mayor, pastor, bank president,.... There was an unfamiliar pickup truck, almost as old as hers but at least with paint intact and well-polished, and with an out of state license plate. It must belong to the new sheriff, Lillian guessed as she skidded the last two feet into a parking slot and jumped out. Hurrying in to the building, her arms full of packages, Lillian did a double-take as she passed the unfamiliar pickup truck. PH 2718. The image of a medal was next to the number. A Purple Heart license plate. There hadn't been one of those in town since her great uncle George, the World War II veteran, had passed away. Uncle George had thought it funny to scare little Lillian with his artificial leg. This puzzled Lillian momentarily, for surely the town wouldn't hire a sheriff with an artificial limb, as she resumed her hurried rush into the building.

Most of the meeting was a blur to Lillian. She kept refreshments stocked and pursued future business opportunities by hinting to her cousin, the assistant bank manager, that she could quite reliably cater a surprise tenth anniversary party for his wife.

She did pause, along with everyone else, when the mayor cleared his throat over the ancient announcing system. "Alright, as pleasant as this is, and as delicious as the refreshments are - thank you once again, Lillian -," Lillian smiled and nodded and tried to fade back into the background, since young Belinda Turner was getting a little too close to the cake. " - and it is a welcome party to our latest citizen, and our new sheriff. Without delaying any further, I take great pleasure in introducing Cameron Holden."

The applause ranged from polite participation, like Lillian who was still keeping a half eye on Belinda, to unbridled enthusiasm, like Judy Kemper who was a young widow looking hard for a second husband.

Lillian was surprised at the tall, lanky stranger who stood up. He was even taller than her uncle Jack, who had been the high school basketball star in his day, and was now the town judge preparing to swear him in. His shoulders were just as broad as those of Tony Carson, who had been the high school football star and had gone on to bigger things. He had close cropped, dark blonde hair, and blue eyes that didn't seem to miss anything. Every woman in the room over thirteen automatically noted that he wore the uniform extremely well. Sonya was standing beside her, and Lillian heard her mutter, somewhat breathlessly, "He can put me under house arrest any time."

An agreeable smile started to form on Lillian's face, when she caught herself, and she felt the achingly familiar little twist of anger and remorse writhe in her chest as she reminded herself of her shortcomings. She sighed. Sonya was thirty-two, two years older than she was, with blond hair and green eyes, who was single because she had had to take care of invalid parents for years, who had just passed away. Life had passed her by, all the men in town anywhere near her age were married to someone else, but Hollister was her home and she stubbornly refused to leave. A new man in town, especially one like that sheriff, must have made Sonya feel like a castaway when a fully-equipped life boat just happened to wash ashore on her deserted island.

Mayor Horner looked serious, as his cousin, Judge Jack Horner, donned his official robes and lent an air of solemn dignity to what had been a noisy community gathering.

"We welcome Cam Holden to our community, and we trust he will come to appreciate and cherish it as we all do. And trust is the right word. We are trusting him to keep us, and our families, and our property safe. It is with gratitude and pride I accept your offer of service to our community, Cam Holden. An Eagle Scout. A former army captain. A decorated combat veteran with one Silver Star, four Bronze Stars, and a Purple Heart from three tours of duty in Afghanistan. First in his police academy class. His list of awards and accomplishments are long and distinguished... so much so that when I tried to memorize them for this little speech, I forgot to put them back in this here Bible as a cheat sheet, so I'll just skip ahead." That elicited a personable chuckle from everyone. While the judge might be Lillian's uncle by blood, he was the favorite uncle of everyone in town by inclination, and had never come close to losing an election.

Lillian automatically glanced at the sheriff's left hand as he placed it on the Bible which Uncle Jack was holding. No wedding ring. Not that she was looking, she reminded herself with a heavy heart. It just meant only one new potential customer instead of two or more. Of course that might be a little parochial; in Hollister folks set quite a stake in their wedding rings, but she had heard that other places people didn't bother or had 'significant others' instead of spouses. She shook her head slightly. The pastors of the three churches in town were on the council who voted on the appointment; hiring a sheriff living in sin would be as likely as importing Devil worshipers for a Christmas Pageant.

"Do you, Cameron Holden, solemnly swear to faithfully execute the duties of sheriff of Renner country, to protect and serve its citizens, and uphold the law impartially?"

"I do," the tall stranger responded with a pleasant, resounding baritone that immediately attracted the church choir director's notice.

The simple declaration was met by enthusiastic applause and even a few cheers by the assembled citizens. At the very least, they all had a new person to watch, gossip about, and fuss over as they went about their mundane lives in their sleepy town. They surged forward to shake hands.

The applause was Lillian's cue to start passing out refreshments again, so she turned to the table and began passing small plastic cups of punch along. After a few minutes, it suddenly seemed a lot quieter, and Lillian felt a presence close beside her, and a massive hand, with long slender fingers, gently whisked away the punch cup she had just set down. Turning, Lillian came face to face with the new sheriff. Actually she had to look up considerably since he towered over her. Her 'welcome new customer' smile had just started to form when his eyes crept in a stole away her heart. Deep blue and crystal clear, they were two warm beacons which anyone would trust automatically.

From the reaction he was as startled as she at the instant connection, and she opened her mouth to introduce herself... and a single whiff of his masculine scent spun her around dizzily; a faint musky cologne with an edge of clean sweat and a fullness of fresh scrubbed skin and freshly starched uniform. She hadn't felt this light-headed since her first boyfriend had finally managed to undo the first button on her blouse in the very back row of the drive-in twelve years ago. Her legs trembled ever so slightly, and a rush of hot, damp arousal shivered through her entire body. In the instant before the thick wall of anger and the deep moat of inadequacy she lived her life behind could throw themselves up... the first genuine smile she had had in three years blossomed on her lips and she forgot her reality, forgot her cares, forgot her self-conscious modesty, and she actually reached out to touch his shirt as if to reassure herself that he wasn't a hallucination.

The ruggedly handsome, clean-shaven face stared down at her, reading her wild emotional wave as easily as if she were a license plate on a suspect's car, and completely unable to hide his wild, instinctual attraction to her.

As the taut heaviness in her chest rallied her defenses, and she snatched back her hand, some small part of her ego braced itself to be disappointed by some crude male pick-up line, like....

"If I would have known Hollister had a woman as beautiful as you in it, I might have skipped the police academy and come straight here and opened a modeling agency, and knocked on your door first thing," he said, surprising her that such a deep, quiet compliment could come from such a massive body.

Their all too brief respite from the press of the laughing, chattering, milling crowd faded as the townsfolk flowed back toward their new sheriff. Hemmed in by the table behind her, the sheriff beside her, and the imploding crowd, Lillian couldn't flee from the consequences of her emotional lapse, so she hid behind her professional smile and bullied her voice into saying, in a casually, friendly tone, "Hello. I'm Lillian Horner. I'm the owner of the Hollister Metro Diner. Open for breakfast and lunch six days a week from 6 to 2:30." The words were bright, and brittle, and completely at odds with what her body wanted to shout.

The man suddenly blinked, aware that some primal connection had been deliberately and thoroughly cut, and with sense and dignity enough not to scramble after it in public, cleared his throat with just a trace of awkwardness, and took his cue from the look in her own eyes. "I am quite pleased to meet you." He smiled wryly, like a retired warrior who had fought many battles, military and personal, and added, "Cam Holden... sheriff." He shifted the small cup to his left hand and held out his right.

Fearful of what she might feel, of what he might feel, if she shook his hand, Lillian grabbed a second cup and handed it to him, saying, "A man your size better take two," and kicking herself even as she said it. She saw Gina Riley, her best friend since being old enough to know what a friend was, was staring at her, and her uncle was tapping the sheriff on the shoulder and saying something about needing to introduce him to yet more people. And suddenly he was gone and she felt drained and alone again.

The next half hour or so of the reception was even more blurred than the first half hour, with her body being a nearly robotic hostess, while her mind tried to pretend that what had happened - hadn't, and her heart struggled against its formidable array of scars and callouses. Finally, with a deep breath, Lillian finished cutting the welcome cake, and put the final slice on a small paper plate. Looking up and glancing around she spotted most of the important personages. The mayor would lay subtle claim to the largest piece; the judge would not so circumspectly go for the piece which obviously had the most frosting; and Judy would take the smallest piece, eat it quickly, and then take the smallest piece still left. The guest of honor would probably... ; she glanced around, wondering where the new sheriff was.

There; Gina had the sheriff backed into the far corner of the room, had her hands on her hips, and seemed to be reading him the riot act. The scene looked like the last PTA meeting where Gina had told Emily, the elementary school principal, exactly what she thought of young Tom Kemper's classroom behavior. Lillian shook her head and caught the judge's eye. She nodded at the sheriff and then at the ranks of cake pieces. The judge smiled, nodded back, swooped up the piece with the most frosting, and held it aloft. "It's not a celebration without cake. Would everyone please join me so I don't feel so guilty - and am not temped to take a second piece."

The crowd converged on the table like a cloud of chuckling locusts. By quick action Lillian managed to save two pieces, a small one for Gina and a large one for the sheriff, and wended her way through the crowd, and walked over to rescue the new sheriff from Gina's mysterious wrath. She didn't want to face him, but her father had always said things like, 'get right back on the horse.' She would have to face the man again sooner or later, and if she resolutely pretended that nothing had happened, maybe she could convince him, and possibly herself, that nothing had. "Give the sheriff some breathing room, Gina," she said, trying to sound like a hostess was supposed to sound.

Gina spun around and smiled brightly. "The sheriff was just promising to be stern with Luke Detwhiler if he keeps practicing with those drums of his after ten o'clock."

Sheriff Holden nodded with a jerk and smiled broadly. "Very sternly; I am supposed to keep the peace, and that includes peace and quiet." Then he winked at her from behind Gina's back. Lillian quelled the small thrill she had, thrust the two pieces of cake at them, and muttered something about keeping the kids from making a mess. Gina threw the sheriff a dark look over the piece of cake. "You won't forget what I just said, will you sheriff?"

He nodded. "You don't have to worry. I take it completely to heart."

A little mystified, but anxious to be away, Lillian excused herself and hurried back to the refreshment table.

CHAPTER 2 -- Say it with flowers

A new speed record was set the next morning by the old pickup truck and Lillian's heavy foot as she bumped the curb in her diner's parking lot a little after 5:45 the next morning. Leaping out, she unlocked the door as a patient Doug and an impatient Judy stood waiting. She rushed through her morning routine, and heartily wished the pies would stack themselves for a change. Sighing, she wheeled the cart out of the kitchen. Each morning Mrs. Kersheen would drop off a dozen assorted pies, and Lillian would put them in the little refrigerated glass display case just behind the cash register. They would be gone before closing, guaranteed. This was her first chore between seating the first wave of customers, and helping Adele serve the first plates hot from the kitchen,

It was 6:15 and the doorbell jingled and Lillian frowned. Laura Hammerstein was early today. She put on her 'customer greeting' face and turned - to find herself face to tie with Sheriff Holden, who was looming over the counter. The new face was unexpected, and the broad smile was somehow disconcerting; no one should be that cheerful this early in the morning. He still looked qood - really good - in the uniform.

"Good morning, Lil," he said as he squeezed himself onto the stool at the counter which was right next to the register.

Her 'new customer' smile faded just a tad, and inside she grumbled, "strike one," as she forced herself to recover and say, as reasonably as possible, "I prefer, 'Lillian,' sheriff."