~33~

"I don't understand," Sheridan fretted, wringing her hands for lack of anything better to do. Save for a crumpled day-old copy of the Harmony Herald, the row of cushioned seats was empty. "It has to be here. This is the last place…"

"Perhaps you should check the ladies' room."

Sheridan heard the note of thinly disguised exasperation in the suggestion but responded with a tight smile anyway, "The ladies' room was the second place I checked after…" She didn't have to finish the rest of her sentence; they both knew the ladies' restroom had been thoroughly looked over, a second destination following their current location—the first and last place searched. "It's not there." Sighing, she tried to keep her voice steady as she admitted what they both suspected, "Someone must have taken it." She couldn't meet the pair of puzzled pale eyes in front of her; to him, she knew, it was only a compact, and her behavior over its loss the foolishness of a woman's whims. How could she explain that, to her, it was so much more?

"The Crane family have always been respected patrons of this facility. Maybe we can work out some type of compensation. Was the item an antique? A family heirloom?"

"I'm afraid its only value was sentimental." The lump in her throat made even that statement difficult to compose. For the first time, Sheridan saw understanding flicker across the man's bored countenance and felt pity in his gentle touch to still her restless hands.

"There's still the chance it could be found."

His awkward touch fell away, and Sheridan could only nod quietly as he continued to speak, even offering to give a description of the lost compact to his employees in the event that they made its unlikely discovery. She looked up sharply, however, with the mention of New York.

"…New York has already departed. Unfortunately, with the worsening snowstorm, our next flight out has been delayed."

Sheridan found her eyes drawn to the tall windows that lined the small airport's walls, belatedly noticing that the runway was all but obscured by thick sheets of white. The Crane private jet, carrying Fancy and Hank, was already gone, one of the last flights to leave before the weather conditions had deteriorated to the state they were currently in. Unconsciously, she wrapped her arms tight around herself, feeling a shiver run down her spine as she stared at the wintry wasteland. Absently, she asked, "How long?"

"Pardon me?" Pale irises studied her profile in confusion.

Shaking herself out of her reverie, Sheridan faced the man and offered him an apologetic smile that didn't quite meet her eyes then clarified, "How long do you expect the delay to be?"

Now it was his turn to apologize. "I'm afraid these matters are never predictable. It could be minutes, hours, possibly even days. Of course, you're welcome to wait here, however long that may be. But if I might make a suggestion, there's a lodge just down the road a piece that would be much more comfortable. I'd be happy to make the accommodations for you."

"No," Sheridan answered softly. "No thank you. I think I'll," she broke off to study her surroundings and dwindling clusters of people and families in the same predicament as her, "just stay here if you don't mind."

"I'm sure it wouldn't be too much trouble to arrange a car to take you home."

Inwardly, Sheridan winced, both at the knowledge that the offer had only been made to her because of her Crane name and the realization that she didn't have a home here in Harmony, never really had. "I appreciate the kind offer, but that won't be necessary."

"If you change your mind…"

She watched him slowly be swallowed up by the remaining crowd before turning around, her fingers tightening around her purse strap in surprise when she ran straight into a solid wall of muscle and felt two strong hands close over her upper arms to steady her. Biting her lip in embarrassment, she blurted out an apology without looking up, "I'm so sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going." Moving to snatch her hand back from its warm resting place, she felt her capabilities of speech flee her when a large hand quickly covered hers, holding it still, and she realized she could feel the strong beat of the heart that lay beneath her palm. Swallowing hard, she felt her cheeks inexplicably flush with heat, and her own heart speed up within her chest in what felt like recognition. It couldn't be, she chastised herself, shaking her head and closing her sore eyes against the frustrating tears she felt pricking. Wishful thinking, foolish dreams, damned heart, she told herself as she lifted her face and steeled herself to meet a stranger's face, even as his familiar scent filled her senses and a traitorous sob escaped her lips. "I didn't mean to crash into you. Again," she laughingly cried when gentle thumbs captured her tears and the moist brown eyes she loved so sparkled back at her.

"Guess I'm going to have to arrest you."

Bless Hank and Fancy, huh?

Sneaky little devils. :)

Three guesses who she crashed into and the first two and a half don't count.

LOL!

Feedback would absolutely make my night (come on, you know you wanna, lol).

Thanks so much for reading!