Some kind of wonderful by Maureen Child, Copyright Paperback Collection (Library of Congress) DLC Page A

then reached down and stroked the big dog that was never far from her side. "He's right here."
    "The dog?'
    "Careful," she warned. "He's sensitive."
    "Got it." God knew, he didn't want to insult a dog that stared at him as if Jack were a walking steak dinner. But he wasn't finished asking questions. "No family at all?"
    "Nope." She forced a smile, but he could see by the shift of emotion in her eyes that the smile had cost her. "My parents died in a car accident when I was ten."
    "That's hard."
    "Yes, it was."
    "No brothers or sisters?"
    "Nope. Only child."
    The sorrow in her tone prodded him to try to make her smile. "An only child. I used to dream about that when I was a kid."

    'Trust me," she said, one corner of her mouth lifting briefly, "it's not that great."
    "Maybe not," he conceded and thought about it for a long minute. Actually, he couldn't imagine a life without his mother, his bossy sisters, or his brother. Alone might be good once in a while, but family had their points, too.
    "With no family, it must have been tough losing your folks that young."
    She lifted one shoulder in a shrug he didn't believe for a minute. "It would have been tough at any age."
    "True. So, you went to Social Services."
    "Yep." She lifted her chin in defiance of whatever sympathy he might offer her. "Bounced through a few foster homes, then ended up in the group home until I was eighteen."
    And he understood clearly why she'd volunteered to take little Liz in. "So you didn't want Liz going to the county home."
    "No," she said and lifted her cup of coffee for a steadying sip. In the overhead light, her eyes flashed. "I just couldn't let that happen."
    A smart-ass mouth and a tender heart, Jack thought and found her an intriguing combination. Too damned intriguing.
    A change in subject seemed like the best idea. Out of the blue, he asked, "Wasn't there an actress named Carol Baker?"
    "Yeah." Carol smiled. "I'm not her."
    "I noticed."
    "Really?" She grinned, and this time the lingering sadness in her eyes faded away completely. "Notice anything else?"

    That was the problem, he thought. He noticed too damn much about her. The way she smiled. The light in her eyes. Her voice, her laugh, the way she moved. He didn't want to notice, dammit. And sitting here in the dimly lit room with her wasn't helping anything.
    "Yeah," he said, pushing himself to his feet. "I noticed it's late and I'm tired." He stared down at her for a long minute, then turned and headed for the front door before he could give in to the impulse to stay. 'Thanks for the cake."
    The main street was blocked off for the parade and the crowds were already staking out slices of sidewalk with lawn chairs and coolers. American flags whipped in the ocean breeze and the scent of hot dogs rolled down the street with all the subtlety of a tank.
    Locals and tourists mingled in a strangely orderly mob as they waited for the beginning of the parade. Kids clutched balloons as tightly as their parents clutched them. Teenagers wandered through the crowd feigning boredom while scoping out the mob of people, looking for their friends.
    Traffic was blocked off, the merchants were doing a booming business, and the carnival at the edge of town was cranked up and in high gear. Just another Fourth of July in Christmas.
    Jack walked to the wide window of the sheriff's office and looked out at the milling crowd beyond the glass. The sun blasted down out of a picture-perfect sky, warning of the heat still to come. By late afternoon, there would be cases of sunstroke, sunburn, and a few drunks looking for a place to sleep it off. The cop in him

    prepared for the day. The man in him remembered other Fourths, when he'd happily joined the legion of people celebrating.
    His eyes narrowed as he scanned the crowd, picking out familiar faces. Davis Holloway was already sprawled in the bed of his ancient Chevy truck, a cooler full of beer beside him. His grandchildren scrambled in and out of the truck, just as