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I gritted my teeth. People booked weddings on the village green all year round, even in the dead of winter. The gazebo backed by Opal Lake was stunning—I’d admit that. But somehow, without vocally complaining (who was I to ruin someone’s foolish attempt at romance?) Fred knew the goddamn weddings were a thorn in my side. Which meant all of town hall knew, too.

“I don’t mind the weddings,” I said, working to unclench my jaw. “I don’t even run them; I just like checking up on them to make sure things are going smoothly. No drunken nonsense.”

“Sure, of course.”

The truth was, weddings aside, I was fine with this job. I was good at it. I could get a lot done in this town and I didn’t need to get elected to keep doing it. Sure as hell not under Fred’s wing.

“Shame,” he went on. “You’d make a fine candidate. Except for the family situation.”

My hackles went up once more, this time even higher. “My personal life is none of anyone’s concern,” I said.

Fred had shaken his head like someone had died when I told him I needed some time off last year to deal with my divorce. Then, just a few weeks ago, Remy and I had run into him at Aubrey’s, our local diner. We’d just come back from dropping Hannah off at college and were drowning our sorrows in burgers and milkshakes. That and arguing over Remy’s mediocre boyfriend once again. The two of them kept getting together and breaking up again. “That’s not how relationships are supposed to be,” I’d told her.

“How would you know?” she’d shot back.

My stomach had dropped. She was right. What kind of role model was I?

Then Fred had walked through the door.

“Ah crap,” I said. “Don’t draw any attention to us,” I’d whispered, as if we were trying to avoid one of the more annoying alpacas on Hank’s farm. The last thing I needed was for the mayor to see me arguing with my daughter.

Both of us leaned over our milkshakes, making sure to keep our eyes off the mayor, who was hobnobbing with half the restaurant.

Then he’d bellowed, “Archer!”

He’d spotted us in our corner booth, which wasn’t nearly as concealed as I’d hoped. When he came over, he’d clapped me on the back before visibly recoiling at Remy. Specifically, at her newly shaved undercut, nose ring, and Ramones t-shirt.

“My, you’ve… grown since the last time I saw you!” he said to her as if she were six and not sixteen.

My daughter might dress a little avant-garde, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t a great kid. Or that she didn’t have her shit perfectly together, except for the boyfriend situation. She worked summers at the theme park near Moriarty and had a thriving babysitting business the rest of the year. But Fred didn’t need to know that.

“Sixteen now,” I’d said stiffly. How dare he judge a teenage girl by her choice of outfits? “Her own person.”

Remy had smiled at me, and I gave her a wink.

After he left, she’d given an olympic level eye roll. I didn’t even call her out on it, either.

“I’m not going anywhere near public office,” I said now, “so my family is not up for discussion.” I’d restrained my voice, but I could tell he heard the note of warning.

“Listen, I just know you’d have a better chance of having the public warmed up to you if those pretty girls of yours looked a little more like—”

“Fred,” I said, my restraint slipping.

“Alright, papa bear,” he said. “Understood. For now. But listen, giving you the sales pitch wasn’t the reason I asked you in here. It’s to ask a favor.”

I sat back in my chair, my shoulders relaxing slightly. Hopefully, the matter was done and dusted. And with any luck, I could get back to my desk soon. Even though that gold clock said it was nearly time to head home.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Ever heard of Rolling Hills Resort?”

“I don’t think so,” I said, unable to keep the suspicion out of my voice. The tiniest tickle of something not exactly pleasant—my spidey senses maybe—flickered in my gut.

“It’s in Quince Valley. You familiar?”

Actually I was. Quince Valley was in Vermont, a good three hours northeast of Jewel Lakes County. Though I hadn’t been there since I was a kid, I remember it being as beautiful as home, with rolling green hills, and a sparkling blue lake.

“My father took us fishing there when we were kids,” I said.