Delsey took a single sip, felt her stomach twist, then, thank the Good Lord, it quieted down. “I’ve heard of you, Agent—”
“Call me Ruth.”
“Okay, Ruth. Most everyone at Stanislaus has heard of you, Ruth, you and your husband, Sheriff Noble. I heard a Stanislaus student was murdered, then the director’s secretary.”
“Yes. We got it sorted out.”
“A lot of the women at Stanislaus think Sheriff Noble’s hot—some of the guys do, too. It will get even worse now that Griffin’s in town. When the women get a load of him, there’ll be fistfights.”
Ruth smiled and patted her hand. “You might be right. He’s quite a package.”
“Poor Griffin, he has to deal with females up to about eighty coming on to him. Maybe the older women want to mother him. Or not, hard to say.”
Griffin came through the door with Nurse Morsi, who checked Delsey’s pulse, put a stethoscope to her chest, and said “good” several times. Ruth told her about Delsey getting sick. Instead of a magic med, Nurse Morsi produced a saltine cracker. “Chew on this, Delsey. Go slow, that’s right, a bit at a time. It will help with the nausea.”
Delsey chewed on the cracker. Her stomach didn’t complain. “Thanks. That’s good.”
“A flash of nausea is common with a concussion; nothing to worry about. It’s already gone, right?”
Delsey took the last bite of cracker, waited for a moment, and nodded.
“Good. If the nausea comes back we can give you an injection to calm things down. You had quite a bit of alcohol last night that showed up on your blood tests. That can’t be helping. Right now I want you to lie still, have some more water and saltines when you feel like it, and let your body reboot.”
Nurse Morsi left after a long look at Griffin, one Delsey recognized as saying, How about I buy you a drink? Delsey focused on her brother. “Griffin, I don’t understand. What are you doing here?”
“I was on my way to my new job in Washington and planned on stopping here to surprise you.”
“Did you see Jennifer?”
“Yes, she’s fine, made me the best waffles on the planet.”
Delsey said to Ruth, “Jennifer is an incredible cook. Believe it or not, she’s never wanted to be anything but Griffin’s friend.”
Griffin didn’t have the heart to tell her Jennifer was gay.
Delsey said, “She owns Jenny’s Café over in Gaffer’s Ridge, an hour or so northwest of here. I visited her this past fall and put on three pounds.”
Griffin knew she was being chatty; she always was when she was scared. It was a wonder she could manage it. He bent down and lightly laid his fingers over her mouth. “Don’t worry about all this, Dels, I’ll do all the worrying for you—or, better yet, we’ll let Ruth carry the worry load.”
“Not a problem,” Ruth said and began rubbing the back of Delsey’s hand again.
Delsey sighed. “It’s probably just as well Jenny’s gay. If she wanted to marry you, Griffin, you’d gain a hundred pounds.”
So she knew, did she? “Nah, I’ve got more willpower than you.”
“Do you know, Ruth,” Delsey said, “whenever we were sick, our grandmother would rub our hands and she’d sing that beautiful aria from Madame Butterfly, ‘Un Bel Dì,’ to us. You don’t have to sing, Griffin.”
Griffin said, “No, I won’t. Is the hand rubbing working?”
“It’s a good distraction.”
Ruth wanted to ask Delsey Freestone what had happened, but she decided Griffin should take the lead. She said only, “It’s snowing, bunches of big flakes drifting down. I’ll bet my two stepsons are sledding and snowboarding with half the kids in town at Breaker’s Hill.”
“I sledded at Breaker’s Hill three days ago,” Delsey said. She closed her eyes. Ruth thought her head must be really hurting.
Delsey turned very slightly to look at her brother. “You’ve got to get married, Griffin, and have kids. Imagine how gorgeous they’ll be. Maybe they’ll be lucky and have some of my talent.”
“Back at you. Maybe your kids will have some of my talent.”
Even though her head hurt and she wished she had another saltine to keep her stomach off the ledge, Delsey smiled. “I’ve gotta admit, your talent’s more interesting than mine. I mean, you’ve always simply known things no one else knew. I’ve always had to run into things, head-on, like the time that boy snatched Mrs. Garland’s tote bag and ran right into me when I came around the corner.” She closed her eyes again, but there was a small smile on her mouth. “At least Mrs. Garland got her tote back.”