I look up from my notes to see Tomasetti standing slightly behind her in the hall, Mr. Professional dressed to the hilt in a slate gray suit and the paisley tie I bought him for Father’s Day last year. We’ve never made it official, but I suspect just about everyone here at the station knows we’re a couple. We don’t discuss it, and he doesn’t visit me here often. But that’s one of the things about small town life: keeping secrets, especially big ones, is nearly impossible.

Behind him, Mona grins like an idiot. Slipping into my chief of police persona, I make eye contact with her. She loses the smile, but gives me a thumbs up, then melts back into the hall.

“Sorry to interrupt right before your meeting,” he says as he enters my office.

“It’s okay,” I tell him. “Going to be a short one.” I glance out the window. “Looks like we’re in for some snow and I wanted to get everyone out of here early.”

“You’re such a hard ass.”

“I do my best.”

I turn my attention to the good-size cardboard box tucked beneath his arm. He sets it on my desk. “I had to drive into town so I thought I’d bring this by.”

“What is it?”

“Not sure.” He extracts a pocketknife from his slacks. “From Roaring Springs.”

I look at the return address and something warm quivers in my chest. “The Calico Country Store.”

He cuts the boxing tape seal and pries open the box. We peer inside. A pretty handmade card on top. Something wrapped in white paper.

Tomasetti plucks out the card and hands it to me. “Never liked the card part when I was a kid.”

I grin at him. “You were probably too anxious to get to the good stuff.”

We both know the good stuff is inside the card.

Dear Kate,

I hope this letter finds you well. Our sewing circle is meeting five days a week now. (So much gossip to cover, especially since we’re about to nominate a new bishop!) We’ve been working hard here at the shop and taking on new sewing projects, one of which is a crib quilt for Lena’s baby, which will be coming any day now. We finished the tulip basket quilt we were working on while you were here. We decided we should send it to you, since you couldn’t make a quilt to save your life. Ha! (I think Rebecca would have agreed!)

Wishing you all things good and God bless!

Laura, Ada, Naomi, and Lena

I read the card a second time, smiling, while Tomasetti pulls out the quilt.

“Nice of them to mention your quilting skills,” he mutters as he peels away the protective paper. “Looks like a king.” He raises his brows Groucho Marx style. “I guess they knew you’d be sharing it with someone?”