Hidden Summit

funny. How’d you get rid of him?”
    “I shot him with the fire extinguisher. This time I got him good.”
    “That’s getting to be quite a habit, isn’t it, sweetheart? I just had the scariest thought—you might be getting more like your parents....”
    She sighed. “That wouldn’t be all bad, especially if I could have as much fun as you do. I’m going to get a fire extinguisher for the house. You know, if I weren’t afraid of the message it might send to Greg, I’d call Allison and ask her if she can keep him home.”
    “Hmm. Maybe the new marriage isn’t working out so well—have you thought of that? He has far too much time on his hands.”
    “Oh, please be wrong,” she said. “I need him to be happily married and not my problem.”
    “There was a time such a thought—that his marriage was on the rocks—would have filled you with joy,” Candace reminded her.
    “Well, I’ve discovered something very important over the past couple of months. The only thing worse than feeling rejected and devastated is feeling like a damn fool.”
    The second week in May, Conner received a message from Brie to give her a call when he had a minute. She told him she had information for him and to come to her house around six in the evening, by which time she expected to be done working for the day. To kill time, he went to Jack’s for a beer.
    If Conner had any fantasy of flying under the radar in Virgin River, it was gone by now. He was made as the man in Leslie’s life. It only took one bartender, one cook, a couple of local guys sharing a pitcher and one general contractor whose loose lips had the story all over town. Within a week of Greg’s visit and the fire extinguisher dousing in the bar, it was a legend. Virgin River, he realized, loved a good story. They had plenty of them, too. There wasn’t a lot of entertainment in town besides those stories, and they lapped them up.
    “Small town,” Jack said. “We live for stuff like that.”
    “And the latest story on me?” Conner probed.
    “Nothing all that interesting. Just that you’re gonna have to get Leslie away from her ex-husband to have her.” And then Jack grinned.
    Conner eyeballed him for a moment while he considered the grim truth—that he had much more interesting facts still under wraps. “You people,” he said, shaking his head, “need to get a life.”
    “This is the life, man. As a rule we like as little excitement as possible.”
    Conner could relate to that.
    “Where is the little lady tonight?” Jack asked.
    “I believe tonight is yoga night,” Conner said.
    “And what do you do on yoga night?”
    “A little computer time and early to bed. Being gossiped about is very tiring.”
    Jack laughed. “I guess you’re not as tough as you look.”
    Conner went from the bar to Brie’s house. She’d said he was to come to her front door at six, not her law office door which was an addition to the side of the house. When she let him in, he was struck by how much she reminded him of his sister. Brie was tiny in her snug jeans and bare feet. Her sleeves were rolled up, and she had a child’s cup in her hand. Her hair was loose and long, and she looked so much younger than she was. If he was correct, she was over thirty-five.
    “Come in,” she said. “I’m giving Ness her dinner.”
    He followed her to the kitchen. He watched her pull a bowl of mac and cheese from the microwave and blow on it. Ness was seated at the small kitchen table on a booster chair, squealing and reaching for her dinner. “All right, all right, hang on to your britches,” Brie said, putting the bowl in front of her. She filled the cup with milk and put it on the table, then leaned against the kitchen counter and let out a breath.
    He chuckled and shook his head. “It’s sure hard to picture you kicking butt in a courtroom,” he said.
    “She was terrifying, too,” Mike Valenzuela said as he came into the kitchen. He didn’t look like a cop in his denim shirt, jeans and boots. But then as Conner had learned, he didn’t want to. He rarely carried a sidearm, though he kept a rifle in the rack in his truck. “Can I get you something to drink?” he asked, opening the refrigerator.
    “No, thanks. What’s up?”
    “Couple of things,” Brie said. “First of all, they’ll be starting jury selection soon—looks like they’re running close to the time frame Max suggested. I bet you’ll be called by late May. Possibly sooner. That should come