Dearest Enemy Read Free

curious."
    "There's been a lot of damage," she said, "but nothing that can't be repaired."
    "Seems like a waste of time."
    "Not to me."
    Just as she was beginning to resent his cocky attitude, some ghost of a thought tightened his lips. His forehead wrinkled and he rubbed the bridge of his nose as if in pain.
    "Is there something wrong, Sheriff?"
    He seemed to shake off whatever had troubled him and looked at her, a little vaguely at first, as if he'd forgotten she was there. Finally, he removed his sunglasses and focused his deep brown eyes on her. "Nope."
    But there was obviously something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She made a mental note. Here perhaps was something to be watched that might provide an edge.
    She shrugged. "Then I guess you don't need me hanging around."
    She climbed aboard the bike again and started the engine. Famished, she decided to use the remaining time to find a place for a leisurely dinner.
    At seven o'clock, she knocked on the open door of a meeting room in Town Hall. Elvira whispered something to a portly man seated to her right, who motioned Callie inside. Three men and another woman completed the group at the table. The sheriff sat in an otherwise empty row of chairs. Callie took a deep breath and let it out slowly, welcoming the calming effect it brought. She couldn't afford to give in to jittery nerves. This meeting was too important.
    "Evenin', Miss Patterson," the heavyset man said. “I’m Dex Chandler, mayor of this little detour through the Land of Enchantment. Elvira tells me you have some business with us.”
    "Good evening, Mayor Chandler. Thanks for letting me speak to all of you.”
    After introductions, the mayor asked, "What's on your mind?"
    "I'm here to restore The Mansion and turn it into an inn for area tourists."
    "We don't get ‘em in Blue Sky, Miz Patterson. Nothin' much to see here, frankly, and even if there was, I'm not sure we'd want a lot of strangers traipsin' around."
    "Here, here," said one of the men.
    Callie noticed a couple of heads nodding in agreement. Other board members listened without any apparent reaction. She continued despite the lack of encouraging signs.
    "I've spoken to nearby artists and crafts people who are forced to compete in existing markets either up north in Santa Fe or down in Albuquerque. If we provided a supportive atmosphere in Blue Sky they would gladly exhibit here. Establishing such a market would give tourists a reason to patronize our galleries and boutiques, spending time and money before moving on to other tourist areas."
    "Don't have no galleries or boutiques, either,” another voice countered.
    "In the beginning, I'll provide space in The Mansion for graphic arts or sculptures." She glanced at Elvira. "And maybe we could find room in the Mercantile for crafts like weaving, pottery or works in glass. Later on, we could look at other buildings to restore.”
    Callie glanced over at the sheriff. His arms had been draped over the backs of chairs to either side of him. Now he leaned forward in his seat with his arms resting on solidly muscled thighs and his hands clasped in front of him. A tiny smile turned up one corner of his mouth. Pleasure sparkled in his brown eyes. Wonder what that's all about, she thought, attributing her wildly erratic pulse to the prospect of finding room for negotiation. His cooperation could be as important as winning over the town fathers. More important, if he had any influence with the rest of his family.
    "What if you can't develop a — what didya call it — a market?" The question came from a man whose name she'd heard but couldn't recall.
    "My main goal is to restore the building and make it livable again. If we can’t stir up a tourist trade, I'll turn it into an artist's colony. In time, we could add storage and work spaces, maybe even a forge or kilns for potters and ovens for glass blowers.”
    "But there's nothin’ here, not like Santa Fe or other cities. What makes you think the