But what else could she conclude?
She was staring at the microfiche machine when she felt a presence in the room. A child stood in the doorway gazing at her. One of those beautiful kids, with perfect features and silky blonde hair cut bluntly at her chin.
“What’s that?” She pointed to Edie’s shoulder, and Edie looked down at the tattoo emblazoned there.
“A swan.”
“Why do you have a swan there?”
“It’s my name. Edie Swann.”
The kid took that in, continued staring at her intently.
Edie never saw herself as the family type. Kids made her nervous with their innocence and trust. This one looked really young. Five? Six? Edie swallowed, not knowing what to say, and wished the kid would go away.
Instead, she walked in, right up to Edie’s chair. “Can I touch it?”
Geez. “Uh…”
The little girl took that grunt for permission, and before Edie could stop her she’d climbed up on her lap. Tiny fingers traced the outline of the blue and gold wings. “How did you do that?”
At least this was easy. Informational. “It’s called a tattoo. You go to a special store and they use needles and ink.”
“Does it hurt?”
Truth or lie? Experience had taught Edie that kids were too sheltered by half. “Yeah,” she said. “It does.”
“So why’d you do it?” Her wide green eyes seemed to peer right into Edie demanding an answer.
“You ever do something you know might hurt but you do it anyway because it’s fun or because you want to see if you can take it?”
“I jumped off the swings in the park once.”
“You hurt yourself?”
She nodded solemnly, and Edie shrugged as if to say, “See what I mean?”
“What’s that?” The girl pointed to the pinup below the swan.
“Betty Boop.”
The kid giggled. “Betty Poop.”
“Very funny,” Edie said dryly. But couldn’t resist a smile.
“Miranda!” A small, compact woman with a head of short blonde curls, messy yet attractive, stood in the doorway where the kid had first stood. The mother? Edie took a closer look. Youthful, but not young.
“Good Lord, Miranda, what on earth are you doing? You know you’re not supposed to wander off.” The scolding seemed to roll right off the little girl. She didn’t budge. The woman turned to Edie. “I am so sorry she bothered you.”
“I didn’t, did I?” Miranda asked Edie.
“Uh… no.” What else was she going to say? And besides, Edie realized, it was true.
“Come on, now, get down.”
Miranda hopped down from Edie’s lap. “Can I have a swan on my shoulder, too?” Miranda asked the older woman.
“What?” The woman looked confused.
Edie pointed to her shoulder. “I think she means this.”
“A tattoo?” The woman laughed. “Miranda Drennen, you never cease to amaze me.”
The name caught Edie off guard. “Drennen?”
“Oh, yes, bless your heart. I’m sorry. I’m Mimsy Drennen. Miranda’s my granddaughter.” She extended a hand.
“Edie Swann.” Mimsy’s grip was firm and brief but not unfriendly. “Any relation to the chief?”
“That’s my daddy,” Miranda said.
“Your… daddy?” It never occurred to her that Holt might have a child. She gave the kid another look, trying not to stare. Holt’s green eyes looked back at her.
“Do you know my son?” Mimsy asked.
“He’s the chief of police, isn’t he? I’d guess most people know who he is.” Edie said it lightly and hoped Mimsy wouldn’t see the answer for the dodge it was. Interest in Holt was bad enough, but his mother and his kid? That had to be a full-fledged disaster. But before she could figure out a way of avoiding it, Miranda intervened.
“I want a swan on my shoulder,” she demanded.
“Absolutely not,” Mimsy said.
“Why?”
“Tattoos are for grown-ups, that’s why.”
“I want to be grown up,” Miranda said.
“Don’t I know it. And much too fast if you have anything to say about it.” Mimsy lifted the girl up. “Come on, child, we’ve got to get
She was staring at the microfiche machine when she felt a presence in the room. A child stood in the doorway gazing at her. One of those beautiful kids, with perfect features and silky blonde hair cut bluntly at her chin.
“What’s that?” She pointed to Edie’s shoulder, and Edie looked down at the tattoo emblazoned there.
“A swan.”
“Why do you have a swan there?”
“It’s my name. Edie Swann.”
The kid took that in, continued staring at her intently.
Edie never saw herself as the family type. Kids made her nervous with their innocence and trust. This one looked really young. Five? Six? Edie swallowed, not knowing what to say, and wished the kid would go away.
Instead, she walked in, right up to Edie’s chair. “Can I touch it?”
Geez. “Uh…”
The little girl took that grunt for permission, and before Edie could stop her she’d climbed up on her lap. Tiny fingers traced the outline of the blue and gold wings. “How did you do that?”
At least this was easy. Informational. “It’s called a tattoo. You go to a special store and they use needles and ink.”
“Does it hurt?”
Truth or lie? Experience had taught Edie that kids were too sheltered by half. “Yeah,” she said. “It does.”
“So why’d you do it?” Her wide green eyes seemed to peer right into Edie demanding an answer.
“You ever do something you know might hurt but you do it anyway because it’s fun or because you want to see if you can take it?”
“I jumped off the swings in the park once.”
“You hurt yourself?”
She nodded solemnly, and Edie shrugged as if to say, “See what I mean?”
“What’s that?” The girl pointed to the pinup below the swan.
“Betty Boop.”
The kid giggled. “Betty Poop.”
“Very funny,” Edie said dryly. But couldn’t resist a smile.
“Miranda!” A small, compact woman with a head of short blonde curls, messy yet attractive, stood in the doorway where the kid had first stood. The mother? Edie took a closer look. Youthful, but not young.
“Good Lord, Miranda, what on earth are you doing? You know you’re not supposed to wander off.” The scolding seemed to roll right off the little girl. She didn’t budge. The woman turned to Edie. “I am so sorry she bothered you.”
“I didn’t, did I?” Miranda asked Edie.
“Uh… no.” What else was she going to say? And besides, Edie realized, it was true.
“Come on, now, get down.”
Miranda hopped down from Edie’s lap. “Can I have a swan on my shoulder, too?” Miranda asked the older woman.
“What?” The woman looked confused.
Edie pointed to her shoulder. “I think she means this.”
“A tattoo?” The woman laughed. “Miranda Drennen, you never cease to amaze me.”
The name caught Edie off guard. “Drennen?”
“Oh, yes, bless your heart. I’m sorry. I’m Mimsy Drennen. Miranda’s my granddaughter.” She extended a hand.
“Edie Swann.” Mimsy’s grip was firm and brief but not unfriendly. “Any relation to the chief?”
“That’s my daddy,” Miranda said.
“Your… daddy?” It never occurred to her that Holt might have a child. She gave the kid another look, trying not to stare. Holt’s green eyes looked back at her.
“Do you know my son?” Mimsy asked.
“He’s the chief of police, isn’t he? I’d guess most people know who he is.” Edie said it lightly and hoped Mimsy wouldn’t see the answer for the dodge it was. Interest in Holt was bad enough, but his mother and his kid? That had to be a full-fledged disaster. But before she could figure out a way of avoiding it, Miranda intervened.
“I want a swan on my shoulder,” she demanded.
“Absolutely not,” Mimsy said.
“Why?”
“Tattoos are for grown-ups, that’s why.”
“I want to be grown up,” Miranda said.
“Don’t I know it. And much too fast if you have anything to say about it.” Mimsy lifted the girl up. “Come on, child, we’ve got to get
Similar Books
