A Creed in Stone Creek - Linda Lael Miller [63]
Heads turned as they left the restaurant, as they had when Melissa and Steven came in, but Melissa was used to that. Stone Creek was, after all, barely more than a wide spot in the road, even a century and a half after the first settlers arrived.
“Thanks for lunch,” she told Steven, when they were standing on the sidewalk again.
He looked around, probably for her car. “I could give you a ride back to work,” he offered. “My truck is just around the corner.”
Melissa smiled. “That’s okay,” she said. “The walk will be good for me.”
Steven didn’t look convinced of that, but he didn’t argue, either.
“I’ll be expecting you around six,” he said.
She nodded, wondering precisely when she’d gone around the bend. She decided it must have happened when she got her first look at Steven Creed, because she’d certainly been sane before that.
The hike back to the office was a short one, but it didn’t make Melissa feel better any more than the walk over had done. If she’d been anybody but her stubborn O’Ballivan self, she’d have taken Tom’s earlier suggestion, gone home, gulped down something for the pain and climbed into bed.
When she arrived, Adelaide Hillingsley was in the outer office, chatting with Andrea.
“I came about the toilet paper rumor,” the middle-aged woman announced forthrightly, as soon as she spotted Melissa. Pudgy, with thin, reddish hair and bright hazel eyes, Adelaide was a cheerful soul, and her family, like Bea’s, went way back in Stone Creek’s history.
Melissa managed not to roll her eyes, but just barely. Did anyone in this town understand that this was the prosecutor’s office, not the official headquarters of the Parade Committee?
Resigned, she gestured toward the entrance to her private space.
“Shall I bring in some coffee?” Andrea piped up, all chipper efficiency.
Melissa gave her a look.
“That sounds nice,” Adelaide said, sweeping grandly into the inner sanctum. “I’d like mine with a little cream and two sugars, please.”
“None for me, thanks,” Melissa said, putting a little point on the words. And then she shut the door with a firm push.
Adelaide, dressed in her customary cotton print blouse and elastic-waisted jeans, sat down without waiting for an invitation.
“Someone really should persuade Bea Brady to go straight out and shop for a life,” she said. “My niece wore a toilet paper wedding gown when she got married, and she looked fantastic. The pictures were all over the internet for months afterwards.”
Melissa sat down in her desk chair and tried to look serious. “I’ve gone over the bylaws for the Parade Committee,” she began, with dignity, “and there is a ban on using bathroom tissue to decorate floats.”
Adelaide waved that off. “What about creativity? What about being resourceful, and the wise use of our funds—which, in case you don’t know, are shrinking with every passing year?”
Melissa drew a deep, deep breath and let it out slowly. “Adelaide,” she said, “creativity is certainly a good thing. Ditto resourcefulness and good fiscal management. But this is an issue that should be debated within the committee itself—not here, during working hours.”
“You’ve always been such a—lawyer,” Adelaide remarked, without rancor.
She looked around, smiling. “I don’t see any crooks standing around, waiting to be hauled before a judge.”
Melissa allowed herself a small and very diplomatic sigh. She’d been raised to respect her elders and, besides, Adelaide had been her and Ashley’s Girl Scout leader when they were kids. She’d mothered them both, after a fashion, after Delia left. “I think that’s beside the point, don’t you?” she said mildly. “I grant you, this isn’t Maricopa County, where the courts see a lot of action, but I’m still sworn to uphold the duties of this office, Adelaide, and I’m determined to do that.”
Adelaide gave a responding sigh as Andrea ducked in with fresh coffee for the visitor and handed it over.
“If you wouldn’t mind,” the young