My heart fluttered a little at the words “our Hannah.”
“I was fine,” I said. “I’m tough.”
“You shouldn’t have to be,” Connie said, and for some reason the tenderness in her voice made my eyes sting.
I coughed. “The point is, we were trying to keep Jack—everyone—safe. Without worrying you.”
Now Hank, who had been menacingly quiet, had a question. “Safe from what?”
I looked over at Jack.
Jack took the reins. “A minor—almost nonexistent—stalker situation.”
“We didn’t want to take chances,” I said, “but we also didn’t want to create stress for anyone.”
“You had a stalker?” Hank asked.
“Have,” Jack said with a nod. “Just a minor one.”
“But rather than just tell anyone about it … you lied?” Hank said “Well…” I said, trying to think of a way to spin it better. “Yes. But with … honorable intentions.”
“I don’t care if you lied,” Connie said. “I just want you to get married.”
Jack shook his head. “Mom, we’re not getting married. We’re not even together.”
“Bullshit,” Connie said, shocking the whole table. Then she offered Jack a deal. “Propose right now, and all is forgiven.”
But before Jack could respond to that, Hank had another question for us. “Why now?”
“Huh?”
“Why are you telling us now? Why not just wait until after Thanksgiving and go on your way, no questions asked?”
“Ah,” Jack said. “So … you see … the minor stalking situation recently became a little less minor.”
Hank tensed. “What does that mean?”
“It means the stalker—who’s always been very harmless, writing me love letters and knitting me sweaters—”
“That’s where the sweaters came from?” Connie asked.
Jack nodded.
“She’s very talented,” Connie said, with a nod of respect.
I decided to help out. “She’s recently ramped things up a bit.”
“How?” Hank asked, still bracing for the full news.
“Turns out,” I said, trying to make it fun, “someone snapped a photo of Jack and me when we were all at the hospital the other week, and, from the angle, it really kind of looked like we were kissing—which we most definitely were not—and now the whole internet thinks I’m Jack’s girlfriend.”
“I told you they were in love,” Connie said to Doc.
Doc patted her hand.
“Which wouldn’t matter too much,” I went on, “except that the Corgi Lady seems to have kind of—”
“Snapped,” Jack said.
I nodded. “And now she’s become a smidge more aggressive.”
“How?” Hank asked.
Jack and I looked at each other for a second, and then Jack took a breath and said, “She wants to murder Hannah.”
I nodded. “In a lot of creative ways.”
I was trying to make it at least a little funny—but Hank wasn’t going there.
“Jesus!” he said, standing so fast he knocked over his chair. He started pacing the kitchen. “You’ve got a murderous stalker on your tail?”
“We only found out this morning,” Jack said.
“She really has been very benign until now—” I started.
“Does she know where we are?” Hank said, stepping to peer out the window.
“No,” Jack said.
“Hank,” I said, trying to sound as professional as possible now. “You’re not in any danger at present.”
“That we know of,” Hank said.
“No threats have been made against you,” I said, “or any member of the family. The only person in danger here is me—and I can handle myself just fine.”
“What if she shoots at you and misses?”
“That’s why we’re removing me from this assignment and replacing me with a full team—both here and at Jack’s place in town. The agency I work for is the best there is. Once I’m gone, the danger will be minimal. There’s a car coming tonight to take me back to town.”
I hoped my tone was reassuring.
“I’m still struggling with the basics, here,” Hank said to Jack, the anger building in his voice. “You were worried enough to hire a bodyguard, but you didn’t see fit to tell us what was going on?”