Before long, the salt trucks would be out and the snow would melt away, making it impossible to use the sled. They could have brought her truck, but Tenley had wanted time to talk to him, to tell him the entire truth. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been able to figure out a way to adequately explain her reasoning. Forced to come up with an alternate plan, she decided to enlist her grandfather’s help. But she needed to talk to him before Alex had a chance to introduce himself. She drew to a stop in front of her grandfather’s gallery, then tied the reins to the mailbox. “What kind of gas mileage do you get with that rig?” Tenley turned to find the town police chief, Harvey Willis, hanging out the window of his cruiser. He waved and she returned the gesture. “Oats and hay,” she said. “And an occasional apple.” “Drive safe,” he said. “And get that thing back to your place before dark or I’ll be giving you a citation. It doesn’t have lights on it.” He chuckled, then continued up the road from the harbor.
