Rescued by a Ranger

She’s Running From The Law…

Alexandra Hunt is living a lie. In fact, that’s not even her real name. But after the death of her estranged husband, Alex and her four-year-old daughter were at the mercy of ruthless people: her powerful, possibly crooked former in-laws. When they came after her child, Alex saw no choice but to flee. Small town Fredericksburg, Texas, offers unexpected sanctuary. Until she meets her next-door neighbor, by-the-book—and devilishly handsome—Texas Ranger Zane Winchester!

Single father Zane has to admit he has a thing for sweet, pretty Alex. Yet while the attraction is mutual, she’s definitely hiding something. And Zane can’t abide a liar. He needs to find out Alex’s secrets before he can truly allow her into his and his teenage daughter’s lives. But when he discovers the truth, will he help Alex—or turn her in?

“Dammit, Alex.” Frustration roughened Zane’s voice to a growl. “Everything’s private with you, everything’s too personal to share.”

She drew back, stung.

“Some days I catch myself obsessing, what is she keeping from me? Then I think, everything. You say this part of a relationship is for getting to know one another, but whenever I try, you shut me out. You change the subject, you refuse to answer questions, you get hostile. And over the past couple of days, you kiss me or give me ‘that look’ and the question gets forgotten. I think I prefer the direct hostility. It feels more honest.”

Tears blurred her vision. A dozen scathing replies came to mind, but she choked them all down. Because she’d been a fraud from day one. She didn’t have the right to fight with him over it.

“I’m obviously not ready for this,” she said. “Maybe I never will be. Maybe I’m damaged goods. You’re a great guy, and you should hold out for someone with more to offer.”

“Alex, wait—” He scrambled off the bed.

She paused in the doorway and gave him a sad smile. “On the bright side, you won’t have to worry about my distracting you with kisses anymore.”

Dear Reader,

I have enjoyed writing my Hill Country Heroes books almost as much as I enjoyed visiting the Texas Hill Country region! For my last book in the miniseries, I wanted to come up with a special hero, someone quintessentially Texan. Meet Zane Winchester, Texas Ranger, a brave lawman devoted to his community and his daughter. Unfortunately for Zane, sometimes raising a teenager can be just as tricky as tracking down bad guys.

Single mom Heather Hargrove is facing her own parenting challenges—namely how to keep her four-year-old out of the clutches of her wealthy and corrupt former in-laws. When desperation forces Heather into hiding under a false identity, she winds up living right next door to Zane. Just how is she supposed to keep her secrets from a man trained to solve cases and see through lies? Just as troubling, how is she supposed to keep herself from falling for the handsome neighbor who manages to make her laugh in the midst of her problems and values her advice as a parent?

Writing this book, I grew to care not only about Heather and Zane but their community of friends and family. Follow me on Twitter and Facebook to get the latest announcements on whether any of the characters might be popping up in future stories!

Happy reading,

Tanya

Rescued by a Ranger

Tanya Michaels

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Three-time RITA® Award nominee Tanya Michaels writes about what she knows—community, family and lasting love! Her books, praised for their poignancy and humor, have received honors such as a Booksellers’ Best Bet Award, a Maggie Award of Excellence and multiple readers’ choice awards. She was also a 2010 RT Book Reviews nominee for Career Achievement in Category Romance. Tanya is an active member of Romance Writers of America and a frequent public speaker, presenting workshops to educate and encourage aspiring writers. She lives outside Atlanta with her very supportive husband, two highly imaginative children and a household of quirky pets, including a cat who thinks she’s a dog and a bichon frise who thinks she’s the center of the universe.

It’s important for writers to recharge creatively and stay inspired.

This book was powered by the music of NEEDTOBREATHE and Rob Thomas.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Excerpt

Chapter One

Oh, God, what have I done? Panic crowded Heather Hargrove’s chest. Faced with the scariest threat of her life, she’d bolted—potentially making her circumstances even worse. In an attempt to calm herself, Heather watched her four-year-old daughter contentedly snore beneath a blanket on the leather sofa. Josie’s safe. For the moment, anyway.

I won’t let anyone take her from me.

Although they’d fled Houston earlier that day, the reality of Heather’s situation was just as grim here in Dallas. She did not have the long-term resources to fight Eileen and Phillip Hargrove. Her wealthy former in-laws were one of the most powerful couples in the state of Texas. They’d be nearly impossible to beat in a custody battle even if they let themselves be constrained by anything as plebeian as “conscience” or “law.” When Heather had first become engaged to their son, the Hargroves had attempted to end the relationship by bribing one of her former foster mothers to lie about her. With pockets as deep as theirs, who knew what kind of damaging testimony they could buy? If Heather had faced them in court, she would have lost Josie, her entire world. But her failure to appear this afternoon meant the judge could rule automatic forfeiture of custody.

“Here.” Bryce Callahan walked back into the condo living room carrying two mugs. One was chipped at the top and featured a cartoon alien. The other was a shiny cobalt blue, printed with the logo of his software company. “Sorry I can’t offer you anything to add to your coffee. I got used to drinking mine black because I never remember to buy sugar.”

When she took the drink without comment, he added, “I did see a jug of milk behind the take-out boxes in the fridge, but I think it’s been there since Christmas.”

She tried unsuccessfully to smile. “You should probably throw it out, then.”

“With St. Patrick’s Day only three weeks away? Pshaw. It’ll fit right in with all the other green beverages.”

Heather cradled the warm mug between her hands. The last thing her jangled nerves needed was caffeine, but she was grateful for the heat. After the rainy five-hour drive, she felt frozen from the unrelenting damp and pervasive fear. “I’m sorry I came here, Bryce. I didn’t really think this through.” She’d been operating on desperation and adrenaline.

“Hey, what are old friends for? You don’t have to apologize, Red.” His crooked smile and the unimaginative nickname took her back to when she’d been eighteen. “I told you at that fundraiser to call me if you ever needed anything, remember?” Their chance encounter at a charity gala last April had been the one bright spot of a mortifying evening.

He’d handed her his business card, eyes filled with worry, and said he hoped to hear from her soon. Prior to that night, the two college friends hadn’t seen each other since Bryce had flunked out of the University of Texas. The computer genius had prioritized all-nighters leveling up in video games above attending 8:00 a.m. sociology lectures.

Tonight, in plaid pajama pants and a black T-shirt boasting Total Domination, his sandy brown hair in need of a trim, Bryce looked more like the bighearted slacker he used to be than the successful game designer he was now. At the benefit, she hadn’t even recognized him in his tux. Of course, she’d been preoccupied, trying to deal with her uncharacteristically hostile husband at the last social function they’d attended as a married couple. Unlike his father, Christopher Hargrove’s favorite form of manipulation had always been charm, not bullying. But, by last spring, Christopher had become fed up with her questions about his family’s shadier dealings and her insistence that they couldn’t raise their daughter with the Hargroves’ flagrant disregard for rules.

Christopher had believed consequences were for other people, but being rich, good-looking and well-connected hadn’t saved him when he wrapped his sports car around a tree the month after Heather left him. The Hargroves blamed her, said his self-destructive actions had been fueled by his pain over losing his wife and daughter. Eileen Hargrove’s ice blue eyes had bored holes into Heather at the funeral. “You killed him, you ungrateful nobody. You killed my son! And you will pay.”

Heather shivered, and coffee sloshed over the rim of her mug.

“Easy,” Bryce cautioned, taking the hot cup away from her. He turned to set it on the coffee table, but the surface was buried under gaming magazines, napkins from local fast-food restaurants and illegible notes scrawled in half a dozen spiral notebooks. With a shrug, he shoved a stack of papers to the floor, then blinked at the corner he’d uncovered. “Huh. I forgot this had a glass top.”

“What am I going to do?” Heather asked. It was a rhetorical question. Her mess wasn’t his problem.

“I’ll tell you what you’re not going to do—let those soulless bastards take Little Red.” He lowered his voice to a whisper as he glanced at Josie’s fiery curls. “I know I only saw you with her father from across the ballroom, but he was clearly bad news.”

It had been obvious to anyone with eyes and ears what kind of night she and her husband had been having. Bryce hadn’t bothered trying to catch up with her about old times; he’d simply waited until Christopher went to the restroom to say hi and give her his number. She’d called Bryce for moral support after she and Josie had moved into an apartment. Shame welled inside her, humiliation that it had taken her so long to admit her husband would never change. Her old friend had seen Christopher’s true colors in a single evening. Why had it taken her years?

In her defense, Bryce had only witnessed her husband drunk and antagonistic. He hadn’t seen the determined charmer who’d pursued her or doted on her during their first blissful year of marriage. Plus, Bryce had been looking through the eyes of an adult, not the eyes of a young woman who’d grown up in the foster care system and felt cherished for the first time in her life.

“Chris had his moments,” she said softly. She liked to think that some of her late husband’s good qualities would live on in Josie.

Bryce waved a hand. “My point was, you make his parents sound about a thousand times worse than him.”

“Agreed. But running was a mistake.” All she’d ever wanted growing up was a family of her own, yet now she’d endangered her daughter’s chances of a normal home life. Josie was still reeling from losing her father. How could she be expected to cope if Heather’s impulsive actions landed her in jail? After her arguments with Christopher about operating outside the rules, her failure to appear made her a terrible hypocrite.

“You’re not thinking about going back?” Bryce asked dubiously.

Dread knotted her stomach. Her in-laws had scared the hell out of her from the day she’d met them. At first, it had been because she hadn’t believed she was good enough for their son—an opinion Eileen Hargrove reinforced at every opportunity. But over the past few years, she’d become apprehensive for other reasons. Christopher had joked that Hargroves were “above the law...because we can afford to be.” Though Heather lacked specific details, she knew her father-in-law’s criminal activities weren’t limited to bribing his way out of traffic tickets.

Not that I can prove it.

“I can’t go back,” she finally said. “They have unlimited funds and a lawyer who makes great white sharks look cuddly in comparison.” From things she’d overheard during her marriage, Phillip Hargrove might also have judges and state officials in his back pocket.

“You mentioned funds.” Bryce peered at her through his wire-rim glasses, his concern unmistakable. “Need a loan?”

She rose, crossing to the expensive ottoman to hug him. “You are a prince. Why couldn’t I have fallen for you in college?” She’d been nineteen and vastly inexperienced with men when she’d met Christopher at a museum near campus.

“A diligent scholarship student like you with a wastrel like me? Pshaw. You couldn’t have been expected to put up with this.” He gestured toward the cluttered tabletop and the magazines now scattered haphazardly on the unvacuumed carpet. “It would be an affront to your artistic sensibilities. Now stop trying to change the subject, and tell me if you need money.”

“No. At least, not yet. If I’m careful.” When she’d first considered leaving Christopher, she’d begun quietly squirreling away cash. It had taken her a long time to work up the courage. She’d later supplemented her new bank account by selling jewelry. She’d realized she might have to pay for a contentious divorce, but at the end of the day, despite his faults, she’d known Christopher loved Josie. She’d prayed that would guide him to some reasonable decisions.

Eileen and Phillip Hargrove didn’t love anyone. They saw Josie, the only child of their only child, as the Hargrove heir, belonging to them by rights—as much a possession as Eileen’s BMW or Phillip’s Jag.

“What I need—” Heather sighed “—is a plan. Other than hauling ass toward the Mexican border.”

“With customs security checkpoints? Definitely not the direction you want to head if there’s possibly a warrant out for you.” His forehead crinkled in concentration. “I might know a place you can go. Ever been to the hill country? I have a cousin in Fredericksburg.”

“It’s bad enough I imposed on you,” she said, not following his train of thought. “I can’t show up on your cousin’s doorstep.”

“You can if she’s not home.” He was starting to look excited, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. “My cousin Kelsey is married to a guy in the military. He’s been overseas a lot but now he’s got a six-month assignment in Alaska. She’s going to join him, and I arranged for a friend to house-sit. All the regular bills are set for automatic drafts out of Kelsey’s bank account. As long as you’ve got cash for stuff like groceries, you and Little Red would be set. It’s perfect!”

“I don’t understand. What about your friend who already agreed to do it?”

“She’ll be inconvenienced when I tell her Kelsey’s changed her mind. And a little peeved,” he admitted. “But I’ll make sure she lands on her feet. You have a hell of a lot more at stake, Heather.”

She was all too aware of the high stakes. To keep the panic at bay, she tried to lighten the moment. “Heather, huh? I think that’s the first time you’ve ever called me anything but ‘Red.’”

“About that.” He tilted his head, considering. “You stand out with that hair color. Ever thought about going brunette?”

She pressed her fingertips to her eyes. “Not until just now. I’m new at this whole fugitive thing.”

“Different hair would help. So would different names. I can assist you there.”

She glanced up, startled. “There’s a limit to what I’ll let you do for me.” Even as she said the words, she prayed they were true. How much risk would she let a friend take if it meant protecting her daughter?

“I didn’t mean like create new social security numbers for you or falsify a passport,” he clarified. “This isn’t a Bourne movie. But I might know someone who, uh, dabbles in fake IDs. It would have an upcoming expiration date because the new ones are too hard to copy and it probably wouldn’t fool a professional beyond a quick glimpse, but it’s a start.”

Counterfeit identification and lying about who she was? Bryce’s intentions were good, but did she dare continue on this path? Then again... She cast one more anxious glance in Josie’s direction. How could she dare not take Bryce’s help?

Chapter Two

“You haven’t said anything since we left the steak house.” Stupid. Since when was Sergeant Zane Winchester reduced to stating the obvious? His razor-sharp instincts had helped solve cold cases and take down crooked politicians. Colleagues sought his input because he was known for having a quick mind, but a few hours in his teenage daughter’s company made him feel like an inept rookie fumbling with a gun for the first time, capable of shooting himself in the foot with one stray word.

Eden glared from the passenger seat of the truck. “What do you want me to say? Thanks for ruining the first nice time I was having since I got shipped to this godforsaken town?”

There were so many things wrong with her retort that he didn’t know where to begin. My fault. Too out of practice. He hadn’t tried hard enough to keep a close bond with her while she and his ex, Valerie, lived in California. Eden didn’t let an hour pass without reminding him that she hated her parents’ decision to relocate her. She saw her mother as selfish for ditching her, and she clearly viewed Zane more as prison warden than father.

“What exactly did I do?” Zane asked, trying to better understand the daughter he no longer knew.

“You practically threatened that cute waiter at lunch! You might as well have pulled your gun on him.”

“You’re exaggerating by a mile. And that ‘cute waiter’ was too old to be flirting with my fifteen-year-old daughter.” He steered onto their street. “You may think you’re an adult, Eden Jo, but you’re not. Adults face the consequences of their actions. You blame your mama for sending you here, but you refuse to take responsibility for your part in forcing her hand.”

“Why are you defending her?” To Eden’s credit, she sounded genuinely baffled rather than sarcastic. “You should be mad, too. You didn’t want me here.”

“That’s not true!” Rather than take the time to pull into the garage, he angled crookedly in their driveway and cut the engine so he could focus on her. He studied her face, marveling at the changes. This wasn’t the little girl with blond pigtails he used to carry on his shoulders. She was a young woman now, with two thin streaks of hot pink framing her face.

Strips of neon aside, she looked so much like Valerie that he couldn’t help a twinge of nervous déjà vu. As a teenager, Val had been beautiful, fascinating and self-destructive. He prayed the similarities between mother and daughter would prove superficial.

He put a hand on Eden’s shoulder, an awkward substitution for a hug. “I love you. Even if I’m not crazy about the behavior that led you here, I’m glad to have this time with you.”

Her green eyes glittered. “Yeah, I can tell how much you care by all those visits to California and the dozens of phone conversations we had.” She wrenched open her door and hopped to the pavement.

He followed, still trying to frame his explanation as he unlocked the front door. On the other side, the dog was already going nuts, barking in manic greeting.

It had hurt like hell to let go of his daughter, but he’d thought it best. When he and Val had divorced, Eden had been just starting that tumultuous journey from adolescence to physical maturity. He’d known there would be questions and scenarios she’d be embarrassed to discuss with him. Instead of an acrimonious custody battle that would compound the pain of the divorce, he’d let Val take her. As Val had reminded him, at least she was around for their daughter, rather than chasing bad guys all across the state of Texas.

With Eden’s displeasure filling the foyer, it seemed even colder in the house than it had out in the brisk March breeze. “I never would have given up custody so easily if I hadn’t believed it was in your best interest. I figured you’d be better—”

“I was better off in California,” she interrupted. “If you really loved me, you’d let me go back to my friends and my life there!” Tears spilling from her eyes, she stalked down the hall to the guest room. A moment later, the little ranch-style house shook with the force of her slammed door.

He shifted his weight, torn between the urge to go hug her and the urge to reprimand her for the temperamental display. At the rate she was going, he’d have to replace all the hinges in the house by the time she went back to school on Monday.

“I need some air,” he told the dog, a black border collie and shepherd mix splotched with white and gold. “Want to go for a walk?”

Grabbing the leash that hung on a nearby Peg-Board, he called out, “Eden, I’m taking Dolly for a walk around the neighborhood.” Unsurprisingly, there was no answer.

Zane hesitated. Was it better to intrude, to hammer home the fact that he was here for her, or should he give her space to adjust to their new arrangement? He wasn’t used to feeling conflicted. In years past, Zane and his ex-wife had argued about his “rigid” black-and-white worldview, but having a teenager in the house certainly challenged that perspective. Throwing tantrums and slamming doors were inexcusable for a fifteen-year-old, yet it was difficult to fault Eden’s behavior when he was so ashamed of his own. As a father, it had been his responsibility to stay involved in her life, no matter how many miles separated them.

A couple of years ago, when Eden had asked to skip visiting Fredericksburg for the summer because she wanted to attend camp with her friends, he’d agreed instantly. He’d been mired in task force duties as the Rangers sought to shut down a cartel whose members kept slipping across the border. The following June, Eden had stayed in California because her uncharacteristic dip in grades necessitated summer school. He’d seen her for a few days at Christmas, but awkwardly exchanging presents before sticking her back on a plane wasn’t real parenting.

With a sigh, he hooked the leash on Dolly’s harness and stepped outside. After only two weeks, Zane was feeling as weary as Val had sounded on the phone.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with her,” his ex-wife had complained. “Maybe she’s acting out because she wants your attention. Or maybe I just suck as a role model. But the way she’s been behaving, these kids she’s been hanging out with...” Her voice had quivered with maternal fear. “You’ve gotta fix her, Zane. Before she lands in real trouble.”

Could he do it? He’d spent a chunk of his life trying to “fix” Val, to no avail. The day he’d signed his divorce papers, he swore he’d learned his lesson. No more rehabilitation attempts thinly disguised as romance. If he ever got involved with a woman again, it had to be as equals. He didn’t want to be anyone’s life coach or shining knight. The only rescues he’d perform would be in his professional life—a philosophy he’d stuck by, with the exception of Dolly.

After a few weeks of steady meals and belly rubs, Dolly had idolized him. Repairing his relationship with Eden would be far more complicated.

“Doggy!”

Zane glanced up and saw a little girl shoot out of the house next to his. Probably no older than four or five, she looked like a walking accessories department. Her pink shirt and sweatpants were nondescript, but she’d worn them with a sequined scarf and sparkly plastic high heels. The yellow sunglasses dominating her face were so large they made him think of circus clowns. A tiara perched crookedly on her red-gold curls, its fake gemstones sparkling in the sun; clip-on earrings dangled from her lobes, and a feather-trimmed purse hung from her forearm. Peeking out of it was a plastic Tyrannosaurus rex whose snarling expression and sharp teeth were incongruous with her rather exuberant glamour.

He paused, overcome with nostalgia. It seemed only yesterday Eden had been in the throes of her sparkly princess phase. Yet now she was a sullen stranger who stood as tall as his shoulder. The T-rex-toting girl wobbled on her dress-up shoes, then went down with a splat in her front yard.

Shushing Dolly’s frenetic woofing, he hurried toward the kid. “Are you okay?”

Her bottom lip trembled. Patches of mud covered her knees. “Ow!”

Previous parenting experience had taught him that sometimes too much sympathy reminded the child she was in pain, while matter-of-fact conversation could work as a distraction. He reeled in Dolly’s retractable leash to keep her from licking the girl’s face. “Why do you carry a dinosaur in your purse?”

“It’s a dog, but you hafta use your imagination. My chihuahua got ripped.” The way she said the word, it came out “chowawowa.” She sniffled. “Mommy’s gonna fix her but she’s been too busy with other sewing.”

He helped the little girl to her feet. “So, why do you carry a chihuahua in your purse?”

“Because I’m fabulous.” She punctuated her statement with an exasperated duh look.

“Get your hands off my daughter!” A dark-haired woman flew through the open door at such high speed that he half expected her to face-plant on the lawn, too. She snatched the girl into a protective hug against her body.

The child wiggled, either in embarrassment or protest at her mother’s grip. Zane had the absent thought that the freckles smattering the woman’s cheeks seemed out of place, too sweet and potentially girlish for someone who’d barreled down on him like an avenging angel.

He took a step back, murmuring softly to Dolly, whose hackles had risen at the woman’s shrill approach. “Ma’am, I was just checking to make sure she wasn’t hurt when she fell. Zane Winchester.” He tipped his white cowboy hat in greeting. “I live next door. You must be the lady Kelsey and Dave got to house-sit?”

She cast him a fleeting glance before returning her attention to the little girl. “You scared me, Belle. What are you doing outside? Never, never open the door without me! I told you we’d play in the yard after I went to the bathroom. And after you changed shoes.”

The girl’s eyes, which were the same golden-brown as her mother’s, grew wider and wider, then filled with belated tears. Her left leg buckled dramatically as if she were in too much pain to stand. Zane tried to suppress his grin. And the award for best actress under ten goes to...

“I hurt my leg, Mommy.”

“Leaving the house without an adult, you’re lucky you weren’t hurt much worse!” The woman plunged a hand through her short hair, let out an aggrieved sigh, then turned back to Zane. “I suppose I should apologize for snapping your head off.”

“You were worried about your child and don’t know me,” he said. “I’m a parent myself. I get it.” She was new to the area, surrounded by strangers—he’d been in California collecting his daughter when the brunette had moved in two weekends ago. Maybe she’d lived in a bad neighborhood before this. It would certainly explain her eyeing him as if he were a convicted criminal.

She tugged on her daughter’s arm. “We should get you cleaned up.”

“Then can we blow bubbles?” Belle negotiated. “We’ve been inside all day. It’s boring!”

“Maybe. In the backyard.”

“I still haven’t pet the doggy,” Belle said pitifully. “What’s his name?”

“She’s a girl,” Zane said. He should walk away. It would be easier for Belle’s mama to coax the child inside without the temptation of the dog. But he found himself curious about his new neighbors. “Her name’s Dolly.”

“Dolly? That doesn’t sound like a dog name.”

“Tell me about it,” he commiserated. “I’d feel a lot less silly yelling something like ‘Scout’ across the dog park. But I found her while I was doing cleanup after Hurricane Dolly and started calling her that before I realized I was keeping her.” In a lot of ways, it had been fitting to name her after a natural disaster. Only a puppy back in 2008, she’d done some significant damage to his belongings in the first few months he’d owned her.

“Change her name,” Belle instructed as she patted Dolly on the head. “That’s what me and Mommy did.”

He frowned, puzzled. “You changed your pet’s name?”

At the same time Belle informed him in tragic tones that she did not have a pet, her mother stammered, “N-nicknames. She means nicknames! Belle is short for Isabelle and I go by Alex instead of Alexandra. Alex Hunt.”

“I’m Zane,” he repeated. “Nice to meet you.” He held out his hand, but it took her a moment before she shook it, watching him warily the entire time. She was a stark change from bubbly Kelsey.

Alex raised her gaze, starting to say something, but then she froze like a possum in oncoming headlights.

“Ms. Hunt? Everything okay?”

She eyed the encircled silver star pinned to his denim button-down shirt. He’d been working this morning and hadn’t bothered to remove the badge. “Interesting symbol,” she said slowly.

“Represents the Texas Rangers.”

“Like the baseball team?”

“No, ma’am. Like the law enforcement agency.” Maybe that would make her feel safer about her temporary home. He jerked his thumb toward his house. “You have a bona fide lawman living right next door.”

Beneath the freckles, her face went whiter than his hat. “Really? That’s...” She gave herself a quick shake. “Come on, Belle. Inside now. Before, um, before that mud stains.”

“Okay.” Belle hung her head but rallied long enough to add, “Bye, Mister Zane. I hope I get to pet Dolly again soon.”

From Alex’s behavior, Zane had a suspicion they wouldn’t be getting together for neighborly potluck dinners anytime in the near future. Instead of commenting on the kid’s likelihood of seeing Dolly again, he waved. “Bye, Belle. Stay fabulous.”