Hearts on Fire

by Julia Gabriel

  He shuddered at the taste. If he was going to stay with his brother he needed to lay in a better class of provisions. But Mattie had always been that way. One step up from a caveman. Matt was a year older than Jack and as kids, they’d been treated almost like twins. In reality, Mattie and Jackie Wolfe couldn’t be less alike—even physically. If a person were to spot the two of them standing together on the street, they’d have to squint to see a family resemblance. Where Jack was tall and lean, Matt was shorter and stockier like their father. Jack had blondish hair and eyes the color of milk chocolate. Matt’s hair was dark and his hazel eyes were flecked with gold.

  Jack wasn’t sure how long the two of them would be able to stand each other, living in this small cabin, but his father had suggested it. Jack had gotten the distinct sense that his parents wanted to be alone in their house, that Tim Wolfe wanted his wife’s remaining weeks mostly for himself. Not that Jack blamed him. His parents’ marriage, like Michelle and Dan Trevor’s, was the envy of St. Caroline.

  The screen door behind him wheezed open and he felt a broad hand land on his shoulder.

  “What a view, eh?” Matt snorted.

  Scrubby grass that could use a good mow stretched from the porch to the pond’s edge. Jack imagined that the small pond held more snakes than fish.

  “What was this, someone’s duck hunting camp?”

  “Once upon a time. Too close to town now for that.” Matt let his hand fall from Jack’s shoulder. “What are your big plans for the day?”

  “A late lunch with dad, after the nurse comes over. Then spend the rest of the day with mom. What about you?”

  “Going into the station. I got to finish up the report on the Trevors’ fire. I don’t get too many days off anymore. We were down two guys to begin with and then Heath busted his arm two weeks ago playing football.”

  “That’s still not a reason to cut corners.” Jack watched as a bird swooped down and skimmed along the surface of the pond before taking flight again.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Not clearing the quilt shop right away.”

  “There wasn’t supposed to be anyone in there.”

  Jack bit back a sigh. What kind of fire department was his father running? “That’s exactly why you’re supposed to do it.” If he had decided to go home that night instead of going to the fire … “Becca Trevor could have been hurt.”

  Or even worse. A fact that had occupied way too many of his thoughts in the week since the fire and the carnival. Lots of thoughts about her had occupied his mind. Why did he tell her about dropping out of law school? He had no reason to trust Becca Trevor. He barely knew her when they were kids. He knew her not at all now. The one thing he did know was that her parents were close friends with his parents. If Becca told her mother then it was only a matter of time before his mother found out.

  Why did he even hop onto the ferris wheel in the first place? To apologize for his behavior at the graduation party, sure. Although she probably wanted to talk about that as much as he did. Which was to say, not at all.

  “Well, aren’t we the expert on firefighting?” Matt turned and stalked back inside.

  Great. Piss off your brother. Then where will you stay? He could show up on Oliver’s doorstep but Oliver was married and had two kids. He’d wear out his welcome pretty quickly. He followed Matt into the cabin.

  “Hey, man. I’m sorry.” Jack wasn’t as clueless about Matt’s job as Matt thought he was, but that was an inconvenient fact at the moment—and one he couldn’t disclose. “Nobody was expecting her to be there. Not even her parents, apparently.”

  Matt refilled his coffee mug, then held out the pot to Jack. Jack took it and poured the dregs of the pot into his mug.

  “Have to say,” Matt said, “I never would have recognized her on the street. Looks totally different now. Guess she’ll be at her parents’ party. I might want to talk to her.” He winked theatrically at Jack. “Since she’s all grown up now.”

  “She doesn’t strike me as your type.”

  “All women are my type, mate. I believe in equal opportunity.”

  “You just can’t stand the idea of there being a woman within a fifty mile radius who hasn’t gone out with you.”

  “Not just gone out with me, Jackie boy.” Matt winked again. “You need to take some lessons from your older, more experienced brother.”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  “No maybe about it. I’ll show you how it’s done with Becca Trevor.”

  Like hell you will. Jack felt suddenly protective of Becca and he hadn’t a clue why. She was no shrinking violet. She could fend off his brother just fine. Unless she didn’t want to fend off Matt. Who knew? Matt was right about his appeal to the opposite sex. Women generally did welcome his interest.

  Still. Jack hated the thought of Becca becoming another notch on his brother’s bedpost, which made no sense at all. She was already a notch on his own, so why not Mattie’s too?

  “Son, are you gay?”

  Jack nearly choked on his crab cake, then looked to his father for confirmation that he was merely joking. Tim Wolfe’s face was perfectly composed.

  “I mean, it’s okay if you are,” his father clarified. “But you know, your mother is ...” Tim glanced away from his son’s face for a split second. “... trying to put things in order. She’d like you to come out of the closet before she goes.”

  Jack carefully set his sandwich back down on the grey stoneware plate of Skipjack’s, the bar and casual restaurant at the Chesapeake Inn. Thirty seconds ago, he had been contemplating the change in decor at the restaurant. Gone was the slightly kitschy decor he remembered from his childhood—fishing nets and brightly painted lobster buoys. All that had been replaced by black and white photographs of actual skipjacks, a nod to the races held every summer on the bay.

  “Um. No?” he answered his father’s question.

  “You know it doesn’t matter to us,” his father went on. “To any of us.”

  “Why would you think I was gay?” Jack lowered his voice. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Becca Trevor looking over in the general direction of their table. She was behind the bar with the bartender, Mike. Apparently she worked here now, which meant she was planning to stay. For awhile, at least. She was dressed in a crisp white blouse and navy skirt that mirrored Mike’s white shirt and navy pants. Did she have nice legs? They were hidden by the big, old-fashioned wooden bar at the moment. For a second, he forgot about his father’s inquiry into his sexual orientation.

  “Mattie mentioned once that he thought you might be.” His father’s words tugged his attention from behind the bar.

  He was so going to kill his brother when he got back to the cabin.

  “And you’ve always been a little different. Not like your brothers, you know.”

  I’m not like them because you and mom won’t let me be like them.

  “Not that it’s a bad thing,” Tim Wolfe added.

  “Just because I don’t have a girlfriend at the moment doesn’t mean I’m gay.” The food on his plate looked unappetizing all of a sudden.

  “Well, okay. It’s just that your mother wants everyone to come clean before …”

  Before she dies. Great. Jack had plenty of things to come clean about, but his sexual orientation wasn’t one of them—as evidenced by the fact that he couldn’t keep himself from glancing over toward the bar.

  His father followed Jack’s gaze.

  “Dan says Becca’s home for the summer. He said Michelle’s happy about that.”

  Great. Jack was happy for the change of subject, but he doubted Becca’s parents would still be happy once Matt was through with her. Not that it was Jack’s problem. He wasn’t his brother’s keeper. Nor Becca’s. But Matt and Becca together? That wasn’t going to end well.

  “Mattie’s interested in asking her out,” Jack said.

  “I’m sure Dan and Michelle will find a way to head that off at the pass.”

&
nbsp; Jack wasn’t so sure. Becca Trevor had always seemed like one of those people whose behavior wasn’t much governed by other people. But that wasn’t his problem, he reminded himself again.

  “Matt also said you’re down three men at the station.”

  “Yeah.” His father’s phone buzzed in his shirt pocket. Tim Wolfe pulled it out partway, glanced at the screen, and then dropped it back in. “That’s the case. Though Heath should be back by the end of the summer.”

  “I can help out while I’m here. Volunteer. You don’t have to pay me.”

  His father’s forehead creased. “You’re not certified.”

  “I am.”

  Tim Wolfe waited patiently for his son to elaborate.

  “I got my certification in California. I’ve been working as a volunteer with a fire department out there.”

  His father nodded thoughtfully. “Lawyering not keeping you busy enough?”

  Jack shrugged, not sure how much he wanted to confess right that minute. A minute ago, he hadn’t intended to confess even this much. “I’m on call. I work around my schedule.”

  You’re lying to your father. When he was a kid, that would have gotten him grounded for two weeks. But his mother’s wishes notwithstanding, Jack preferred she not find out that he didn’t finish law school before she died.

  Tim fell silent again, but this time Jack didn’t jump in to fill the breach. Instead, he waited for his father to process this information. Over behind the bar, Becca was smiling and chatting with Mike and one of the young waiters, a summer kid from the city. She looked relaxed and happy, two things she hadn’t looked in her mother’s shop last week or on the ferris wheel at the carnival. Or well, ever, come to think of it. Relaxed and happy was not the way he remembered her from high school.

  She, Mike, and the waiter were all wearing matching ties, striped in navy and pale yellow. Skipjack’s was a little spiffier than he remembered it, though the clientele looked the same. Resort guests, a smattering of locals, a few families with kids. He vaguely remembered his mother saying something last year about John Matthew dying. And now his son was running the place—was that it? Jack didn’t know the Matthews even had any kids.

  Becca caught his eye and her smile faded for an instant. Then she caught herself and smiled again, but the replacement smile was not as wide, not as genuine as the one he’d witnessed a moment earlier. Even with the cooler smile, she was pretty. Very pretty, he realized, if not conventionally so. Her nose was maybe too narrow and it was the squarish jaw that had always given her otherwise delicately-boned face a pugnacious air.

  But it was her eyes that held his attention right now. Her cinnamon brows swept gracefully over her heavy-lidded grey eyes. Bedroom eyes. Something stirred in places that really should remain undisturbed. Undisturbed by Becca Trevor, at any rate.

  “Your mother know this?” His father’s voice was low and even.

  “No.”

  His father’s poker face was still impressive, even after all these years.

  “This isn’t a good time for your mother to learn you’ve been volunteering.”

  “I know that.”

  “I speak to the doctor every week. He said this is going to get worse before it’s over.” Tim Wolfe looked his son hard in the eye. “A lot worse. I don’t want her hanging on because she’s too worried about—”

  The older man bit down on the inside of his lip and looked away, not turning back until his emotions were under control again. Still, Jack could see the shine of tears over his father’s hazel eyes.

  “—all of us to let go.” Tim nodded at the young waiter across the room. “So the answer is ‘no.’”

  Chapter 7

  Becca put the finishing touches on two Monster Claws for the twin sisters sitting with their parents at table eleven. She dropped a stemmed maraschino cherry into each glass and then clipped a small plastic flamingo onto the rims. Non-alcoholic drinks with silly names had been a tradition at Skipjack’s since she was a kid. The decor of the restaurant had gone more upscale—she assumed that was the work of the new guy running the place—and the food looked a little better, too. But she was glad they hadn’t gotten rid of the silly kids’ drinks.

  That thought surprised her, as she carefully set the finished drinks onto the waiter’s tray and watched as he whisked them away. When she was in high school, the list of things she couldn’t stand about St. Caroline must have been a mile long. That list was considerably shorter now.

  What an insufferable brat I was.

  She ducked beneath the bar to get a clean rag. The bar didn’t need wiping down again, but neither did she want to just stand there and pretend not to see Jack Wolfe staring at her like he’d been doing for the past hour. It was making her uncomfortable. She spent a few extra minutes straightening the box of cocktail napkins on the shelf below the bar, and counted up the remaining supply of plastic flamingo drink ornaments. Not that they were running low. Mike ran a tight ship here, a welcome change for Becca. It was hard to imagine Mike allowing one customer to harass another.

  But eventually, she ran out of things to pretend to put in order beneath the bar and she had to stand back up.

  “Hey sweetie.”

  Becca’s head snapped back and she pressed her fist to her breastbone. “Mom. You startled me. What are you two doing here?” Cassidy hopped up onto the barstool next to their mother. Her sister’s blonde hair was pulled back, big dark sunglasses perched on top of her head.

  “We were going over a few details for the quilter’s weekend with the events manager,” her mother said.

  “Like tiramisu or key lime pie for dessert?” Cassidy added.

  “Both?”

  Her mother and sister laughed. “That’s what we decided on, too. When do you get off?”

  “Right now.” Mike appeared next to Becca. “Hi, Michelle. Cassidy.”

  It had turned out to be ridiculously easy to get a job at the Inn—everyone knew her parents.

  “It’s almost two,” Mike continued. “I can hold down the fort until Rachel gets here at four.” He tapped Becca lightly on the shoulder. “But I can give you all the hours you want. We’ve got weddings out the wazoo this summer.”

  “Thanks. I’ll check out then.” She headed back to the cash register halfway down the bar. A lot of hours would be good. She was going to work her tail off until she paid back the insurance deductible. Then she’d make a decision on what to do after, where to go. Not back to Ohio. Someplace different where she could make a fresh start, leave all the mistakes of St. Caroline and Ohio behind.

  She logged herself out of the system and turned around to rejoin her sister and mother. She was dismayed to discover that, in the time it had taken her to close out her shift on the computer, Tim and Jack Wolfe had come over to the bar. Jack was talking to Cassidy but he shot a dark look over her sister’s shoulder. Becca sincerely hoped she wasn’t going to be stuck running into him all summer long. And the way Cassidy was furiously flirting with him, that could prove to be a real danger.

  She gave Chief Wolfe a nod and a smile, then slipped around the end of the bar, careful to stay as far from Jack as she could.

  “We’re headed over to take a second look at the Jenks building on Azalea Street,” she heard her mother tell the fire chief.

  “That’s a good spot,” he replied. “Excellent foot traffic.”

  Her mother was serious about the building that was a notorious revolving door of businesses. But what choice did she have? In a town the size of St. Caroline, there was a finite supply of well-located retail space. Once you got too far past the cute touristy downtown area with its cobblestone alleys and Revolutionary War-era homes, your visibility dropped off precipitously.

  “We just stopped in here to meet with Elizabeth and pick up Becca. I’m dragging her with us.”

  Chief Wolfe smiled. “Well, here’s hoping Becca will be more enthusiastic about it than Jackie was about having lunch with me today.” He tapped his son on the sh
oulder, and Cassidy—reluctantly, it appeared—ended the conversation.

  Becca turned to her mom. “My car’s parked in the lot. I can just drive home.”

  “I want you to come with us. I want your opinion before we sign the lease.”

  “I don’t know anything about—”

  Her mother cut off her objections. “You grew up in a quilt shop. And besides, Cass and I could use a fresh perspective. My car’s in the lot too. We’ll walk to Azalea Street and then we’ll walk back.”

  Cassidy slung an arm around Becca’s shoulders. “You can tell us about the quilt shops in Ohio. Maybe they have some ideas we can steal.”

  The walk to Azalea Street took less than ten minutes, and Becca wondered why so many businesses had been unable to make a go of it in the building they were about to look at. It was a great location, a block and a half off Main Street, and easily walkable from the Inn—the nicest hotel in town. The surrounding neighborhood was thick with restaurants, clothing boutiques, ice cream parlors, and art galleries. All summer long, visitors strolled the streets, reading menus, and window shopping.

  Becca also wondered where Natalie was and why their mother hadn’t brought her along too. She was afraid to bring it up. She’d definitely gotten the sense over the past week that Cassidy was the number two person in the shop. It had been so long since she had come home for a visit—she wasn’t really sure what was going on anymore. Her mother was too Ms. Positivity to paint things in anything but the best light.

  “So Becca,” Cassidy began as they rounded the corner from Main to Azalea. “You’ve been holding out on us.”

  “I have?”

  “Mmm-hmm. You completely failed to mention that Jack Wolfe is one fine hunk of man these days.”

  “I didn’t realize that was news.” News to me. “I assumed you guys see him around town when he’s home.”