Organized to Death by Jan Christensen

large, strong frame when he saw her. She climbed out of her car, not sure whether she wanted to talk to him or not.
    But as she approached and saw the concern on his face, a sigh of relief escaped her, and she fell into his arms. Such a comfortable man, a man who always knew the right thing to do, who never made waves, except in court where he seemed to come alive, to be a different Brandon. With Tina, he was always gentle.
    So, of course, she resisted him. He coddled her, wanted to protect her from life. Right now, that felt wonderful. But at other times, it felt claustrophobic.
    After they hugged, he grasped her upper arms and moved her back a bit so he could look at her face.
    “Are you all right?” he asked. “I just heard about it on the news.”
    She gave a shaky laugh. “I’m fine. I’ll be okay, Brandon.” But thoughts of Crystal suddenly overwhelmed her, and she fell back into his arms, sobbing.
    She hadn’t really cried for Crystal. She’d been in denial. Crystal, for all her faults, had been a friend. They’d shared so much together, and now she was gone.
    “It’s all right,” Brandon murmured in her ear. “Go ahead and have a good cry.”
    Tina didn’t know how long they stood under the maple tree, but eventually her sobs turned to hiccups, and she pulled away.
    Then he ruined it. “You see why it’s better if you just marry me and don’t work.”
    She looked up at him, her face tear-streaked, her hand itching to slap him. She took a deep breath. “Thanks for letting me cry, Brandon. But I’m not some princess you can shut up in a tower and keep away from the world. I wouldn’t even want that. I’ll see you later.” She left him there.
    In the kitchen Uncle Bob sipped a cup of hot chocolate while feeding Princess some treats.
    When he saw her face, he jumped up and gave her a hug. “Just hit you, huh? Sit down. I’ll make you some hot chocolate.”
    Princess licked her hand. Tina buried her other hand in the dog’s thick yellow coat and willed herself calm while Uncle Bob put in his hearing aids and made her chocolate.
    Halfway through her drink, she said, “Nicky was shot.”
    “Nicky was shot,” Uncle Bob repeated. He wanted to be sure he heard her right.
    She nodded. “Outside the Morris house. Rachel brought him to the doctor’s office, and they called an ambulance. I took Rachel to the hospital and stayed with her while they patched Nicky up. He’ll be okay, but it’s just one more thing. I’m wondering if the shot was meant for Nicky or for Rachel. What could they know or have done to make someone shoot at either one, and why was Crystal murdered?”
    Uncle Bob shook his head. “The police will figure it out.”
    “I suppose so. I wish they’d hurry up. I need to call the doctor’s office, tell them what happened at the hospital and that I won’t be back today.”
    Just as she sank down onto her bed, the phone rang.
    Hank’s voice was warm in her ear. “You okay?”
    “I will be,” she said in as firm a voice as she could manage, but tears clogged her throat and watered her eyes. She couldn’t cry anymore. Enough was enough.
    “Of course you will,” Hank said.
    And there was the difference between Brandon and Hank. Brandon thought she needed protecting. Hank believed she could handle whatever life dished out.
    Tina thought the reality might be somewhere in between. It was nice to be thought of as strong and able to handle anything, but she remembered Brandon’s arms holding her, trying to protect her. She remembered why she had come home to Newport, tail between her legs.
    Hank’s voice pulled her back from her thoughts. “Aren’t you going back to work?”
    How did he always know where she was, what she was doing, and sometimes, it seemed, her very thoughts?
    “I’d rather not,” she said.
    “You should.”
    She knew he was right. Did she really want to sit here the rest of the day and wallow in her own misery?
    “Maybe I will.”
    He laughed softly.