Shaking her head, Joanna headed for the dining room when a man met her at the door with a charming proprietary smile. “You must be Sheriff Brady,” he said. “Your lovely mother said you’d be along any minute. I’m Myron Thomas, the manager.”

Myron was short and round. He had penetratingly blue eyes, a courtly manner, and a slightly foreign but entirely unrecognizable accent.

“How late am I?” Joanna asked.

“Not at all,” Myron said easily. “The ladies were so enjoying their pre-lunch cocktails that they’re only just now settling into the dining room. If you’ll come this way, Sheriff Brady, I can take you directly to your place.”

As soon as Myron led the way into the dining room, Marianne Maculyea came hurrying to meet them. “Thank goodness you’re here,” she said. “Until your mother and Eva Lou showed up, I was afraid you weren’t going to make it. I’ve just been drafted into introducing you. Come on. You’re seated right next to me.”

“What happened to Marliss Shackleford? I thought doing the introduction was her job.”

“So did I,” Marianne answered. “Maybe she’s sick. All I know is, she isn’t here. Linda Kimball, the women’s club president, asked me to pinch-hit.”

After their telephoned confrontation the night before, Joanna couldn’t help being grateful that Marliss wasn’t doing the introductory honors. With no love lost between the two women, there was no telling what Marliss might have said.

A waitress bearing two loaded salad plates stood waiting for Joanna and Marianne to slip into their places. As she sat, Joanna was pleasantly surprised to see her mother smiling in Joanna’s direction from two tables away. Eleanor Lathrop’s glass of “house” while wine was raised in a salute. Using her water glass, Joanna returned the favor.

Linda Kimball leaned her stout frame in Joanna’s direction. “I hope you don’t mind that there wasn’t room at the table for both your mother and your mother-in-law. I did find a place where they could he together.”

“That’s fine,” Joanna said. “I’m sure they appreciate It.”

“And how are things out at the sheriff’s department this morning?” Linda asked. “Hopping, I presume.”

“You could say that,” Joanna said with a nod. “That’ why we’re so late, as a matter of fact.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Linda said. “Most of the ladies have never been here before. The social hour gave them all chance to explore. I think even nondrinkers like me were getting a kick out of prowling around. Makes me feel like somebody dropped me somewhere smack in the middle of the Cotswolds.”

When Linda turned away to speak to the person seated on her left, Joanna had an opportunity to study her surroundings. The room was lovely, and spacious enough to hold the ten or so tables of twelve without seeming the least bit crowded. Dark walls and wood, as well as indirect lighting concealed behind deep-profiled cove molding near the ceiling gave the place an elegant ambience. If the food came close to matching the atmosphere, it was little wonder that the Rob Roy had emerged as the dining place of choice in Cochise County.

Linda stood up and tapped her water glass with a spoon calling them to attention. “Good afternoon, ladies,” she said with a smile. “Please stand for the invocation. Reverand Maculyea?”

With the invocation and flag salute over, the luncheon began in earnest. In years past, Joanna would have been almost sick at the prospect of standing up later and giving a speech. Fortunately, running for sheriff had cured her of all fear of public speaking. She was able to enjoy the food and to chat with her table companions without succumbing to a case of nerves.

“Have you heard anything more from Jeff?” Joanna asked during a moment of relative privacy.

A cloud seemed to pass over Marianne’s face. “Nothing,” she said. “Not a word. The board advanced the money he said he needed. I wired it to him yesterday afternoon, but at this point I have no way of knowing whether or not he received it.”

“Don’t worry,” Joanna said. “It probably arrived there right on time. If it didn’t and he really needed the money, he would have called by now.”

Marianne nodded, but still she looked troubled. “The problem is, spending that money now is going to leave us strapped later on. I can’t imagine what Jeff was thinking when he asked me to come up with that much more. When he gets back, he may have to go to work just to help keep us afloat. Who’ll take care of the baby?”

“You’ll work it out,” Joanna told her. “It’s not the end of the world. Lots of kids grow up with two working parents.”

“But that’s not how we planned it,” Marianne argued.

Marianne Maculyea always appeared to be so calm and poised and completely all-knowing. It startled Joanna to realize that she already possessed intimate knowledge of something her friend and pastor was just beginning to learn.

“Welcome to parenthood, Mari,” Joanna said with a reassuring smile. “It’s always full of surprises. Now when can I schedule the baby shower?”

“Not until they’re home,” Marianne insisted. “I keep worrying that it we do anything beforehand, something will go wrong and the whole thing will fall apart.”

Just then Linda Kimball rose to her feet and once again called the group to attention. “Ladies today we have as our guest the newly elected Sheriff of Cochise County, Joanna Brady. I believe Sheriff Brady will be honoring us with a few remarks-a state-of-the-county talk, if you will, rather like the President’s state of the union.

“Unfortunately our first vice president, Marliss Shackleford, is ill today. Substituting for her and making both the Introduction and the official presentation will be our second vice president, the Reverend Marianne Maculyea.”

Before Marianne stood up, she reached down beside her chair and picked up a paper-wrapped parcel. “As you may suspect, I was asked to do this introduction just a few minutes ago. It’s a pleasure, however, since Joanna Brady and I have been friends for years. We met in seventh grade at Lowell School, longer ago than either one of us wants to remember. Not only is Joanna a good friend, she’s also one of the most resilient people I know.

“Most of you know the series of tragedies that, by for of circumstance, vaulted Joanna Brady into the position s holds today. As Arizona’s first and only female sheriff, we’ve all heard and read a good deal about how different she is, though, by virtue of being sheriff, she’s somehow grown two left feet. I can assure you that, although she may be very different from our previous sheriffs, she’s still very much the some old Joanna Lathrop Brady I’ve always known and loved.

“I’ve heard it said on occasion that she became a sheriff without really meaning to. In a way, that’s true. She set out on the very ordinary bath of becoming a wife and mother, but when she reached a fork in that road, she knew which path to follow.

“Those of you who haven’t yet seen the women’s club’s display at the Cochise County Justice Center may not know that it consists of a series of framed pictures-formal portraits, if you will-of all Joanna Brady’s male predecessors in the office of Cochise County Sheriff. If you were to study the pictures as a group, I believe you’d find the officers featured there to be a pretty tough-looking bunch of customers-every man of them. Some of them look more like desperadoes than they do like upholders of law and order.

“When Sheriff Brady gave us the snapshot she wanted us to frame and use, her chosen pose sparked some controversy. And so, before I make the official presentation, I’d like to ask Joanna herself to please stand and give us a little background as to why she selected this particular photo. Please help me welcome Sheriff Joanna Brady.”

To a roomful of warmly welcoming applause, Joanna stood up and made her way to the podium. “Thank you, Marianne. You’re absolutely right, I never thought I would be elected sheriff, but now here I am. You’re right, too, about all the emphasis on how ‘different’ I am. Bearing that in mind, maybe I would have been better off sticking to a more formal portrait. The one I chose, though, is of me when I was seven or eight years old and setting off-Brownie uniform and all-to sell my first batch of Girl Scout cookies.