After All These Years

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Authors: Sally John
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town standing nearby?

    Tony thought the scene surrealistic, more Dali than Rockwell. But then maybe that was simply his jaundiced eye seeing ulterior motives and underlying issues hiding behind this Mayberry façade.
    The band shell glowed, a half moon of floodlights penetrating the dark night directly in front of it while carving shadows just beyond the circle of light. Band members clunked around the stage in their cowboy hats and boots, preparing to play their non-music. He was certain Rockwell had never depicted such a moment.
    Then there was Dot, queen of the know-it-alls who, according to Izzy, relayed only bits and pieces of all she knew. At the moment she held court, surrounded by yakking women, undoubtedly of similar ilk. Where were the men? That was an easy one. At the beer tent down the block, around the corner. Where he should be. A cold one might take the edge off this mushrooming cynicism.
    But…the story was here. The Author was making his way toward the stage.
    Off to one side stood Cal Huntington, his bear-width shoulders and unblinking gaze erasing any benevolent Sheriff Andy Taylor aura. He had been friendly enough when they met, but Tony suspected the guy was borderline redneck. The law and order department did not exactly roll out the welcome mat for outsiders here.
    Valley Oaks was a cultural desert. The pharmacist stood out as different, though her features only faintly suggested Asian heritage. She was obviously Chicago born and bred. Then there was Izzy, his hot Latino ex-girlfriend who was still hot, not only in her jeans and boots, but under the collar as well. She hid it fairly well, but she was angry at him. About what, he hadn’t a clue.
    She turned to him now, tilted her chin to meet his eyes and leaned closer to be heard above the noisy crowd. “You’re laughing at us.”
    He blinked. The woman’s talents were being wasted at a Christian radio station. “Why would I do that?”
    â€œWe’re unsophisticated. The thing is, Tony, most of us know it and don’t give a hoot. Write
that
down in your little notebook.” She tapped his lapel and raised a brow.
    Yes, a beer would definitely help
, he thought again, giving her a self-deprecating smile. Sophistication wasn’t the point. He was out to prove whether or not Brady Olafsson was authentic, but he couldn’t exactly tell Izzy that.
    â€œLadies and gentlemen.” Brady was on the stage now, speaking into a microphone. “May I have your attention, please? As a member of the Entertainment Committee, I’d like to introduce tonight’s band, but first, on a personal note…” He paused.
    The crowd stilled. The guy did have a presence about himself, Tony had to admit.
    Keyboard music began playing softly. It sounded like an old tune. He noticed a blonde sitting at the instrument. She didn’t look like a country musician. Hadn’t he met her? That was it. Band teacher married to a relative of Brady’s. Lauren something or other.
    Brady continued, “I’d like to welcome our new vet to her first Valley Oaks Autumn Faire. Oh, excuse me just a moment.” He pressed a finger behind his ear as if to hear better. “Ah, she’s correcting me. All right,
assistant
vet.”
    Tony looked to where he was directing his smile. He could see even in this light that Gina’s California tan had turned a deep crimson.
    â€œWhen Gina arrived this summer, one of the first things she noticed was how fast news travels around Valley Oaks. As we all know, sometimes it’s true, sometimes not. Well…the news I hear these days is that she and I are engaged, so I thought I’d better set the record straight.”
    There was laughter and a few whistles. Tony recognized the background music now, something about where the journey leads.
    â€œThe fact is, we’re
not
. But…Angelina Philips, I love you. And I’m wondering what you’re doing the rest

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