“I can be as forgetful as needed.” He directed her toward the walk path and gave a quiet nod to the security man. “How about a perfect rose to press into your scrapbook to remember today by?”
Marie glanced back, and the Silver Security employee was gone. “What was that about?”
“Transportation. They even do fill-ups if you ask very nicely.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Well, maybe a little.”
“Connor-”
He squeezed her hand. “Cops and security guys, we do our own thing. It’s best not to ask until we’re somewhere over a very long meal. There’s nothing wrong-I promise you that-just well-done planning clicking like it’s supposed to.”
“You’ll explain that sometime.”
“Yep.”
“Then I’ll ask later. I’d like a pink rose for the scrapbook. Something so pink it makes the color pink proud.”
“And try to say that tongue twister ten times fast.” He chuckled and pointed out a rosebush. “There.”
“Yes, that’s perfect.”
Connor tried to remember the last time he’d eaten a waffle cone with just plain vanilla ice cream and couldn’t place it, short of maybe a state fair when he was a teenager and an occasion equally designed to impress a girl. “The fudge would have helped.”
“It hides the vanilla,” Marie protested. “They make the smoothest ice cream in the state, and you want to hide it under a layer of sugar.”
“Tell me you at least like mustard on your hot dogs.”
She laughed and reached up to wipe his chin with a napkin as the ice cream dripped. “I do. And I love corn dogs on a stick and saltwater taffy and cotton candy.”
“So next time we’ll come back to the fair when it’s actually open.” He hadn’t known the fairground had a few concession stands open year-round to serve those who worked at the livestock barns and managed the grounds and staffed the weekend convention hall, but Marie had known. So he was wandering across the racetrack trying to avoid stepping in horse droppings while eating a very cold, very plain, vanilla waffle cone for an early dessert.
“Hold on; your sleeve is about to come down again.” She stepped close enough to turn up the cuff twice.
He got in the last two bites of the cone while she finished squaring the corners of his shirtsleeve. The sun was warm on his back and the afternoon pleasant; it was good to be outside with her. And since it was incredibly hard not to just tip her head to the side and kiss her as he’d like to, Connor kept his eyes above her head on the clouds lazily floating past and thought about his odds of maybe talking her into canceling on Daniel for dinner too.
“There, that’s better.”
Connor rested his arms on her shoulders rather than let her step back and checked his watch behind Marie’s head. His grandfather should be done with the security changes by now. He looked down to meet her startled gaze. “I’m seizing the opportunity presented to me.”
She had a nice blush; he liked that about her. “Want to find dinner to go with that dessert?”
“I promised Daniel I’d be there at seven.”
“Phones are good for apologies; I can stick a pocketknife into a tire and give us a flat so you can have a real excuse.”
“That wouldn’t be fair.”
“All’s fair in love and war.”
“He’s my cousin; the analogy doesn’t fit.”
“Then how about time is of the essence? I go back to work on Monday. No more days off for way too long in my future.”
She smiled. “Why not just say it was a great afternoon and we’ll go out on top?”
He sighed. “We could do that if we must. I could even call you late, late tonight to chat if you give me that new private number you’re not supposed to give out to anyone.”
She rested her head against his chest and laughed. “I feel like a teenager on a date again, Connor. It’s been an incredibly long while since I could say that.”
“I’m kind of enjoying the flashback too. You, lady, can be very good company.”
He dug out his car keys and pushed the button to remotely unlock the car doors. “Want to pull through McDonald’s and order like a zillion french fries to go and pass them out to every kid we pass?”
“You’re not a cop; that’s got to be a fake badge or something. Your sense of humor never grew up.”
“Or something. It’s a nice gold shield, and they only give those out to boys that play well together. If you don’t want to do the zillion french fries, how about finding a speakerphone and calling Tracey and Marsh? We can compare notes on who goofed off the most today. All they probably did was ski or something tame like that. We did duck calls.”
She swiped the keys out of his hand. “I’m leaving while I can still breathe. I’ve been laughing so much my ribs ache.”
Connor followed her, pleased to see the joy was real and all the traces of nerves were truly gone.
Those nerves would be back this weekend, when she realized the Silver Security guys were still around her, when the chief told her Amy was still alive, when the inevitable cutting words were said by someone who envied the money-he couldn’t stop those things, but he’d done what he could. For a brief few hours he’d forgotten about being a cop and the murder cases on his desk, waiting for his return. And she’d forgotten about the risks that came with the changes in her life. He wouldn’t have given this day back for anything.
He walked to join her. “You’ve got the keys, but I’m not letting you drive. It goes against the guy’s code of honor or some such rule in life.”
She perched on the hood of his car and held out the keys. “I changed my mind; let’s stop by McDonald’s for some fries.”
“I was kidding, Marie.”
“I know. I’m not.”
He took the keys and flipped the ring around to find the one for the trunk.
“What are you doing?” She turned to watch him as he circled the car.
“Getting my bullhorn. If you want to attract a crowd of kids, just call, ‘Free food.’ It works every time, and I don’t feel like shouting.”
“You’d actually do it.”
He smiled.
“We need cash.”
“Daniel floated you a loan for the day; it’s in your purse.”
“What? And you didn’t tell me?”
She retrieved her purse and spotted the envelope. “There’s… oh my-” she turned an odd color of pale-“at least five thousand dollars in here. And it sat in the car with the doors unlocked most of the afternoon while we fed the ducks.”
“Not many people think to steal from a squad car, at least not on this side of town.”
“You really should have said something.”
“Holding that much money makes you go kind of yellow pale; I don’t think you’re entirely sure it belongs in your hands yet. It was easier not to tell you than to see the reaction.”
“I know it’s just money, but it’s not just money, you know?”
He came around to lean against the car beside her, and the teasing disappeared. “I know.”
“What am I supposed to do with being rich? Leave it sit in a bank account when so many could use a helping hand? Give it away, and in a few years find I’ve done nothing but give it away? Spend it all on things I enjoy?”
“There’s no right answer. God might be wise enough to judge the intents of your heart and what you choose to do over the next years, but the rest of the chorus of voices you’ll be hearing saying do this with it or that will just be random noise. Follow your heart. It’s your money, not someone else’s, and uniquely your task to sort out.”
“I wish the situation was reversed and you had inherited the money.”
“I don’t.” He smiled at her. “You’re a thinker; your gallery reflects that, your love of painting. Major money
