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poverty.”
“My office is in Kansas City. I’m not here in Cherokee Corners permanently. With tax time behind us for the year, I decided to give myself a little vacation and with my interest in Cherokee culture and art, this seemed like the place to spend a month or two.”
“Do you have any little girls or boys?” Maggie asked him from the back seat.
Adam turned and again felt that jarring burst of emotion as he looked at her. He tried to steel himself against it. The last thing he wanted was to become emotionally involved with this child and her beautiful mother. “No, honey. I’m afraid I don’t. I don’t have a wife or children.”
“How come?” Maggie asked, her gray eyes gazing at him with open curiosity.
“That’s a personal question, Maggie.” Her mother replied before Adam got a chance to answer. “It isn’t nice to ask personal questions.”
“Oh. Is it personal to ask if he could get some kids so I’d have somebody to play with?” Maggie asked.
Breanna flashed Adam an apologetic look. “There aren’t any children Maggie’s age in the neighborhood and so she’s always hoping somebody will move in with kids her age.”
“I’m afraid I can’t help you, honey,” Adam said. “I don’t see any kids in my life now or in the future.” He turned around to look at Breanna once again. “Your mother mentioned that you all work in law enforcement.”
She nodded and made a left turn at an intersection. “My father retired from the police force a year ago. He was chief of police for a number of years. My brother, Clay, works in crime scene investigations, my sister, Savannah, is a homicide cop and I work vice.”
“Rather unusual, isn’t it, that all of you chose that line of work?”
She shrugged. “I guess. For me, it was just a natural choice. Dad loved his work and listening to him talk about it as I was growing up, I knew very early that I was going to be a cop, too.”
“Why vice?”
“Why not?” she countered. “It’s a job somebody needs to do and it’s where my superiors feel I’m most needed.”
“You had just gotten off work last night when I met you?” he asked. She nodded and he grinned. “You make a very convincing lady of the night.”
She cast him a glance that was distinctly cool. “And you almost got yourself shot as a prowler.” She returned her focus out the front window.
Prickly, Adam thought. Or maybe it wasn’t the best thing to tell a woman she made a perfect streetwalker. Maybe his people skills were rustier than he thought.
He decided the best thing to do was to keep quiet and turned his head to look out the window. They had left the outskirts of Cherokee Corners proper and were passing the Cultural Center and village.
“If you’re interested in Cherokee culture, this is the place to spend your time,” she said, her voice holding none of the coolness it had moments before.
“That’s where my grandma works,” Maggie said. “We go there lots of times and do dances and have fun.”
“There is something going on there almost every day during the summer months,” Breanna explained.
“My mother thinks it’s very important to continue to educate people about the Cherokee ways.”
“Your father is Cherokee, too?” Adam asked.
Breanna laughed. “No. Dad is one hundred percent fighting Irish, as proud of his heritage as Mother is of hers.”
“Must have made interesting supper conversations.”
It was obvious speaking about her parents put her at ease. She smiled and nodded. “You don’t know the half of it. Both of them are stubborn, passionate people. I should probably warn you. We rarely get through one of these family gatherings without an explosion of fireworks between them, but the fireworks rarely last long.”
She pulled down a dirt lane that led to a rambling ranch house. There was not another house in sight in any direction. Cars in a variety of shapes and sizes clogged the circular driveway in front of the house.
She parked the car and turned to Adam. “Do you come from a large family?”
“No. My parents died when I was eleven and I was raised by an aunt and uncle. That is pretty much the extent of my family.”
Her dark eyes flashed with a flicker of sympathy. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. My aunt and uncle are kind, loving people.”
“That’s good. But I just wanted to warn you that my family is big and loud and might be quite overwhelming to somebody unaccustomed to big family gatherings.”
“Mommy, let’s go!” Maggie said plaintively from the back seat.
“Yes, let’s go,” Breanna agreed and opened her car door. “It looks like most of the gang have already arrived.”
It took them only moments to get out of the car and walk down the driveway to the house. Breanna opened the door and they entered a large living room.
Adam’s first impression was one of warmth and comfort. It was obvious this room, decorated in earth tones, was the heart of the house. The walls held Native American artwork, all with the common theme of Indians and bears.
“They’re all the work of a local artist. Her name is Tamara Greystone. She’s a teacher at the high school,” Breanna explained. “You might want to look her up…you know, share techniques or whatever.”
“I might just do that,” he replied, although he had no intention of sharing “techniques” with an artist, who would see through his false claim with ease.
Maggie danced ahead of them and out a sliding glass door. Breanna motioned for Adam to follow her outside.
Nothing Breanna had told him had prepared him for the cacophony of sound coming from the throng of people on the large patio. Breanna had mentioned an older brother and sister, but it was obvious this gathering was bigger than immediate family members only.
He saw Rita James standing with a group of people around the large, brick barbecue. Her gaze caught his and she immediately left the group and approached him and Breanna with a warm smile.
She grabbed his hands in hers. “Adam, I’m so glad you came.”
“I appreciate you inviting me,” he replied.
She released his hands and smiled at her daughter. “Breanna, why don’t you take Adam around and introduce him to everyone.”
“All right,” she agreed easily.
Over the next few minutes Adam was introduced to enough people that his head spun, trying to remember names and faces. He was introduced to Thomas James, Breanna’s father, a tall man with graying red hair and bright blue eyes.
He stood duty over the racks of ribs that sizzled on the barbecue grill. He greeted Adam with a firm handshake and exuded a vigor and energy that belied his age.
Adam was then introduced to Jacob Kincaid, an older man who was Thomas’s best friend and the president of the largest bank in Cherokee Corners.
“Jacob is our resident collector,” Breanna said. “His house is filled with antiques to die for and he has a wonderful art collection and some of the most exquisite Fabergé eggs you’d ever want to see.”
Jacob smiled at Breanna with obvious affection. “I certainly hope Mr. Spencer isn’t a cat burglar because if he is, you’ve just given him a road map to the riches in town.”
“Oh, and did I mention his state-of-the-art security system?” Breanna added and both men laughed. After visiting a few minutes with the banker, Breanna excused them and led Adam