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hummed a long obnoxious note.
    A rush of self-awareness stole my breath and burned my cheeks. Everyone else had changed. I was late after staying to visit Surly Wench. I lifted one hand to my head. Yep. Uncombed. Still pinned in extravagant chestnut ringlets, fuzzy and tangled from wind and wear. I squeezed a handful of heavy emerald velvet skirting between the fingers of my opposite hand. The mud coating on my gown’s hem grew heavier with every breath. The plunging neckline was too revealing. The belted waist was too tight.
    Jake removed his hat and rubbed a forearm across his forehead. “I’m sorry for showing up like this.”
    Bree and Mom ushered him forward, rambling over one another in bumbling succession. “No. Not at all. Glad you’re here.”
    Dad made a trip to the fridge. “You on duty?”
    “Not technically. No.”
    Mom filled a plate with everything and jammed a fork on top. “Eat.”
    Dad set a beer on the island before him. “She loves us with food.”
    “It’s appreciated. Thank you.”
    Mom blushed.
    Dad sidled up beside Jake and raised his bottle. “So, you get a bead on the killer? Someone in custody? Suspects?”
    Grandma crept into the kitchen, eyeballing the badge on Jake’s belt. “You’re not here to arrest someone, are you?” She flicked her attention to me.
    His cheek twitched. “No, ma’am. I came by to see how you’re all doing. I should’ve been more sympathetic at the Faire. Sometimes I get focused and forget my manners.”
    Bree slithered to my side. “So, manners brought you here? Nothing else?”
    Jake looked from my face to Bree’s and back again.
    I squirmed. “We accept your apology.”
    Grandma deflated. “I’m just glad you aren’t here to arrest anyone.” She grabbed a beer from the fridge and knocked the cap off on the edge of Mom’s counter.
    Mom groaned.
    Grandma shoved a pretzel in her mouth and gave Jake another once-over. “So, you came to see Mia?”
    “Grandma.” I gave her a warning look. “He said he came to...” What had he come to do? To say he should’ve been nicer earlier? At a murder scene?
    Jake cleared his throat. He worked the brim of his hat between steady fingers. A network of tiny lines gathered at the corners of his eyes. “I did.”
    Did what? Came to see me?
    He turned somber eyes on me. “Is there someplace we can talk privately?”
    “Fine—” Grandma tapped the counter “—but eat first. Gwendolyn will lose her mind if someone doesn’t eat soon.”
    Jake forked a wad of cheese and pasta into his mouth.
    I lifted my nearly forgotten bowl and joined him. He’d come to see me. He hadn’t contacted me in three months and, frankly, could’ve been a little nicer at the Faire. Did he think I knew more about John’s death than I’d already told him? Had he seen me visit Surly Wench with Nate?
    The silence was palpable. Everyone stared. At me. At him. I shoved spiral pasta around my bowl, both thankful and horrified to have my family present for our bizarre reunion.
    Tom poured a glass of wine and took the empty place beside Jake, opposite his wife. “How do you like the Marshal Service so far?”
    Thank heavens for Tom’s obsession with small talk. My shoulders dropped a bit from their positions beside my ears. I rubbed the knotted muscles in my neck, waiting for his answer.
    Jake chewed thoughtfully, a little longer than necessary, it seemed, before answering. “Good.”
    I rolled my eyes. A real wordsmith. An open book, this guy.
    Tom gobbled up the one-word answer and went hunting for more. “Yeah? I bet it’s interesting work.”
    “It’s definitely that.” Jake pushed a pile of cheese cubes with his fork. “How about you? Have you and Bree finished your study?”
    Tom perked up. A broad smile split his face. “Not yet, no. We’re just getting started, really. There’s so much ground to cover. Attraction. Flirtation. Foreplay. Coitus.” He stretched a pale finger in the air for each item on his list.