Caught in the Flames

by Kacey Shea

  “In the case you are not Phil Callahan’s daughter, the trust will go to my dear friend, Callie Gordon, along with her inheritance: my entire estate.”

  “You bitch!” Tiff lunges across the table but Ash pushes out of his chair and blocks her from coming close to touching me. I stumble to stand and step back from the table, away from the angry glares.

  “Why? Huh? Tell me why in the hell the estate goes to that woman over my step mother’s blood relatives!” Cam shouts at the lawyer. Chase is still struggling to pull Tiffany back off the table, away from Ash and myself.

  “Sir, you can see for yourself the documents that were procured almost one month ago today. I met with Mary Katherine and she was in perfect mental health when these changes were made. This was her decision. I’m only communicating her wishes to you,” Mr. Thompson states calmly and clearly. I don’t envy him or his job.

  “You thief! You manipulative bitch! You’ll pay for this! Mark my words! You. Will. Pay!” Tiff shakes a manicured nail my way as she continues to kick and pull against Chase’s tight grip around her waist.

  “That’s enough, Tiff. That’s enough,” he mutters into her ear but we can all hear him.

  “You will pay! I’ll fucking burn you to the ground! Try me!”

  “That’s enough!” Cam shouts and that finally shuts her up. “Come on, let’s go. I’ve heard enough.” He grabs her from Chase and the three of them empty the conference room.

  “That went really well, don’t you think?” Ash quips and though it’s highly inappropriate I release a giggle before slapping my hands over my mouth. “Do you need anything from us?” he asks the lawyer.

  “No. I’ll be in contact in a few months as soon as the estate moves through probate. In the meantime, Callie, you’re welcome to inhabit the property. Once the transfer of property takes place, you’re free to do what you wish with it. That and the estimated one million in cash from stocks, savings, and life insurance distributions. Give or take a few grand.”

  I can’t speak. I can’t breathe. I must look as unsteady as I feel because Ash rushes to my side and grips my shoulders.

  “You okay, Sweet Cheeks?”

  “Fine,” I say and then turn back to Mr. Thompson. “I’m sorry, the stress of these past few weeks must be getting to me. Did you just say one million?”

  “Yes, give or take a few thousand,” he answers matter of factly.

  “Dollars?” I blurt and Ash chuckles.

  Even Mr. Thompson smirks. “Yes, Callie. Mary Katherine loved you dearly. She was a client for years and a very special woman. I hope you realize that and spend your inheritance accordingly.”

  I nod immediately. “I know she did. Thank you for your help today.”

  “I’ll be in touch.” Mr. Thompson holds the door for us and waves good-bye when we exit the office. I’m utterly at a loss for words or coherent thought when we get inside Ash’s tin can on wheels and start the drive home.

  “You okay, Callie?”

  “I just can’t believe it.”

  “That she would leave you everything?”

  “No, that she was a millionaire.” I laugh and shake my head. “I’d never have guessed.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean.” Ash’s gaze trains on the road where a light flurry of snowflakes begins to fall around us. “So, what will you do with her place? Or I guess I should say, your place.”

  “I don’t know.” But after a deep exhale I turn in my seat so I can study his reaction. “Actually, I do. I want to move into her house. It feels like home to me. Stupid, huh?”

  “No.” He glances between me and the road. “Not stupid. It’s a good home. I can see you happy there.” His lips pull into a soft smile and my own can’t help but mirror the movement.

  “I think so, too.”

  “You know what you need to do? Make it your own. Keep what you like, but change enough so it’s your house, not hers.”

  “I guess.” Although I agree, I don’t really have the funds to begin any projects right now. Not when most of my savings was exhausted in repairing my other house. I probably need to sell that house soon. Or maybe I should rent it. Shit. I’m going to need a tax accountant. This is all so much.

  “Hey,” Ash runs the pad of his thumb across my forehead where I imagine it’s creased with worry. “You don’t have to change anything. When you’re ready.”

  “It’s not that. I just don’t have money. Not now. Crazy, I know, considering I’ll have more than enough in a couple of months.”

  “I’ll spot you the cash.” Ash grins and he takes a wrong turn, away from my house.

  “Where are we going?” We hadn’t discussed hanging out, though I’m happy to spend the day with him. It’s nice to not be alone today.

  “Hardware store.”

  I laugh, a real guffaw, and shake my head. “Ash, I don’t even know what I want to do to the place. And . . . lack of funds.”

  He smirks and pulls into the shopping center lot. “Come on, it’ll be fun. We can look at paint samples and argue. It’ll be just like old times. You don’t have to buy anything, just get some ideas.”

  “Okay.” I can hear the smile in my own voice and it’s unfamiliar, almost strange being this joyful again. I still miss Kiki and my heart squeezes when I think of her being gone. But the way she left things . . . I don’t know, it’s almost as if she’s still taking care of me and I can’t help but feel the love.

  “Fuck!” I shout and at the same time swing the sledgehammer down onto the tile floor. The ceramic shatters and a few pieces bounce off the ground while most remain glued to the floorboards.

  “Demo therapy, am I right?” Ash grins and shoves the long prying tool against some remaining grout causing the tiles, or what’s left of them, to pop up from the floor.

  “I can admit you are absolutely correct on this.” My chest heaves with each breath and I stop to rest a moment, setting the hammer down and stretching my arms overhead. We went a little crazy at the hardware store. Basically planned an entire remodel for the house, and Ash insisted we could do most of the work ourselves. Especially with him on paid leave. He also demanded he front me the money for some of the stuff now so we could take advantage of the time. And the therapy.

  Never was the man more right. I was overwhelmed, but found that blasting classic rock music and demolishing the kitchen floor surprisingly clears my head. I’ve never considered myself a violent person, but it feels great to break something right now.

  “You want a drink?” Ash leans his scraper against the counter and opens the fridge.

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  “Beer or water? Or are you crazy coffee lady at the moment?” He calls from behind the refrigerator door.

  “I do love my coffee, but after today, a beer sounds heaven sent.” He pulls out two bottles and pops the tops before handing me one.

  A friendly little ding sounds from where Ash’s phone sits and he takes a long swig from his bottle before grabbing it off the counter. “Huh.” His brow pulls into a deep scowl as he reads the screen.

  “What?” I know it’s none of my business but I can’t help but wonder who or what news has soured my friend’s mood.

  “Just got a message from Cam. He wants to meet, though I don’t know why. I’m still on leave. Tomorrow morning. Station Eighty-two.” His brows scrunch as he studies the message.

  “Eighty-two? Isn’t that practically in another county?” I step closer and lean a hip against the cabinet.

  “Yeah.” He types something on the screen and then shakes his head as he sets it back on the counter in exchange for his drink.

  “Why is Cam making you go all the way out there?” I’m still confused.

  “I’m sure it’s just another bogus form of payback to teach me a lesson for not following orders.” He rolls his eyes.

  “That’s bullshit!” I shout. I’m not sure why I’m so worked up other than I’m tired of their stupid family walking around like they’re owed the world. �
�You’re doing your time. He already put you on paid leave. He can’t do anything else to you. Why the hell does he want to meet all the way over there when you both live in the city? That’s stupid. Text him back and tell him you’ll meet him closer.”

  Ash’s deep, throaty chuckle pulls me from my rant. He shakes his head with a grin. “I’m not gonna do that, Callie.” He brings the bottle to his lips and my heart rate picks up just observing his mouth locking onto the glass.

  Damn it. Friendly thoughts only, Callie. I tilt my own glass and chug to cool my thirst. “Well, I think it’s BS. He’s probably pissed about the way things went down today and is lashing out at you.”

  “It’s fine. If that’s what it takes to make Cam the Man feel better about himself, I can easily drive the hour to meet with him.” Ash rolls his eyes and sets his empty beer on the counter. He grips the scraper and moves to where he left off.

  Setting my empty bottle next to his, the thought hits me. “You don’t think he’ll ask you to transfer out there?” Ash’s chin snaps up and his gaze locks with mine as his shoulders slump.

  “Fuck.” He curses and then blows out a deep breath. “Well, now I do.” His lips pull into a tight line.

  Shit. I didn’t mean to bum him out. The thought came and I blurted it out before thinking. Maybe I should work on that. “So, demo therapy?” I offer a weak smile and a shrug. Ash’s scowl fades and a smile threatens to overtake his face as though he wants to laugh. He exhales and nods his head, and lets loose a smirk instead.

  “Demo therapy.” With his chin down and strong arms ready, he returns to the task at hand. Picking up my sledgehammer, I join him. The smack, scrape, scrape of our tools against the floorboards fuse with the music to create a soothing, rhythmic beat.

  Demo therapy.

  I love waking to the smell of coffee.

  I stretch from where I’m cocooned in soft blankets and sniff at the air again. Coffee. Who is—? Oh, right. Ash and I worked on the kitchen late into the night. He even convinced me to move the furniture out of the main living spaces and into Kiki’s old room so we could tear out most of the carpet. Which was a great idea at two o’clock in the afternoon, but shortly after ten p.m. when my body ached with exhaustion, I regretted our impromptu decision.

  Ash eventually took pity on my weak muscles and sent me down the basement steps with directions to sleep. I didn’t think he’d stay all night, but with the coffee calling to me I’m sure he did. I shove off the covers and pull a sweatshirt over my head before making my way back up the stairs.

  “There she is!” He’s far too chipper.

  “What time is it?” I squint because after being in the basement I almost feel like a vampire. The kitchen seems brighter than usual this morning.

  “Here, here. I’ve got you.” He hands over a steaming mug and I shut my eyes to inhale the splendor that is my first cup of the day. “It’s almost seven. I need to get going soon. I want to run home to shower and change before meeting up with Cam. You hungry?” He motions to the refrigerator and I’m sure if I say yes he’ll stay to make me something.

  I shake my head, “Coffee’s good.” I sip from my mug. “How late did you stay up last night?”

  “Hmm . . .” He runs his hand through his hair and then picks up his keys, cell, and ball cap from the counter. “Maybe two? I hope I didn’t wake you. I was trying to be quiet.”

  “Two!” My eyes widen and I yawn just thinking about it. “Boy, you’re crazy. You didn’t have to stay.”

  “Actually, I kinda did.” He grins and nods to the kitchen window.

  “Oh shit!” That’s a lot of snow. I walk closer to check out the winter wonderland. It’s beautiful, the way the snow covers everything in freshly packed flakes. It builds the excitement I have to head home to see Dad next week. Of course, this is nothing in comparison to a Minnesota winter and I’m glad for that.

  “Yeah, plows just came through. I’m guessing we got a good eighteen inches.” He slaps his hat onto his head and then bends the bill between his hands. “But look at this place!” he exclaims. Only when I turn to examine the mess we made do I have a mini heart attack. Rolls of old carpet are stacked in one corner and there are three large containers full of what was my kitchen floor. Dust settles everywhere.

  “Don’t worry, Callie. Just remember how bad the yard looked. It has to get worse before it can get better.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Thank God we aren’t touching the basement. At least there I still have a clean hideaway.

  “Trust me,” he says lightly but my eyes snap to meet his.

  I nod once. “I do.”

  His lips pull up at the edges. “Good. Now, I’ve got to get this shit over with. I’ll be back.”

  “Don’t you ever sleep?” I laugh and he joins in as he walks to the front door.

  “Years of firefighting. I only need a little. Bye, Callie!” He waves over his shoulder.

  “Bye! Good luck today,” I shout back. When the lock clicks I glance around. I have no fucking clue how to renovate or remodel a house. But there is one thing I’m exceptional with and that’s organization. After I finish my drink and wash the cup in the sink I make the brave trek down the hall to Kiki’s room.

  If this place is supposed to be mine, I can’t stay in the basement forever.

  I need to go through her things.

  I wish it were the weekend so I could ask Alicia or Jill to help. No, I need to do this. No one else will go through her belongings with more care than I will. And knowing the kind of woman Kiki was, I feel confident she’d want me to donate as much as possible. I’ll keep a few things, but her letter, and this house, those are her real gifts to me.

  Stepping into her room, I do a quick inventory and make a plan of attack. Logistical madness pulses in my veins at the prospect of this new project. I run back downstairs to grab a few things so I can take on this new day with a cleaning vengeance.

  With the music playing full blast an hour into my work I’m feeling as though I’ve got my groove back. I shake my hips and sing along to a top forty station. Using the master bedroom as my sorting grounds since the rest of the main floor is a torn up mess, I’ve set up zones for each category: keep, donate, trash.

  I started in the closet and since most of that contains clothes, shoes, bags, and the like, I’m proud of how much I accomplished in such a short time. Me, being the sort of person I am, can’t help but organize the clothes by size into separate trash bags and mark them accordingly. I finished going through all her clothes and I’m struggling with the marker in hand. Ink must be out.

  I stand and toss it into the bag marked for trash and do a little shimmy to the music on my way down the hall. A scratch, sort of bump sound pulls my attention to the front window and when I move closer to investigate Silas pokes his head out from the curtains with an annoyed meow.

  He trots close and rubs against my leg so I take pity on him and pick him up. “Hey, buddy. You not getting enough attention today? I’m sorry.” I scratch between his ears and then down his neck. His purrs thrum against my chest. “That’s right, you just needed a little lovin’, didn’t you?”

  There’s that sound again and I stop petting Silas so he’ll quiet down with the purring. I tilt my head and listen, but all that fills the room is the music playing from the bedroom. Strange. I blow out a breath and shake my head before setting Silas down. I need a new marker and then it’s back to work.

  Jogging down the stairs I retrieve five of my beloved markers, all in different shades in case I decide to color code as well. Hell, who am I kidding, of course I will. When my foot hits the first step there’s that strange noise again, only this time it’s followed with a whoosh and screech.

  “Help! Get me out! Help!” The woman’s screams are muted, as if they’re behind a wall, but really close considering the volume and clarity. What the hell? “Help! Someone fucking help!”

  It almost sounds as if it’s coming from outside the basement, but how could
that be?

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  I jump back, almost scream, and study the basement windows. There are only two down here, and they’re quite large even though most days they don’t let in much light because the opening between the wall and earth isn’t very deep. The thumping sounds again, followed by cursing, and maybe cries. I see the window furthest from me shake with each thump as I step closer. The window is covered about halfway with snow and then a pair of legs. Human legs attached to a woman who is wedged into the space.

  “Help!” she cries again, and this time the sound registers with familiarity. No! It can’t be! I race up the stairs and into Kiki’s bedroom where I throw open the curtains to the perfect view. I can’t contain my giggle.

  Tiff is stuck. Firmly planted in the snow in the space between the house and yard. The snow comes all the way up to her armpits and she’s struggling to claw her way out. Only she’s very, very stuck. Her hair and face, which are always so put together, unveil her frazzled rage. She’s positively pissed off. I laugh louder and her gaze snaps up to where I stand in the window.

  “Don’t just stand there! Get me out of here, you fucking bitch!”

  I’m almost tempted to leave her and see how long it takes to get herself out, but then I’d have to listen to her cries and insults. With a sweet smile in place I call back. “Don’t worry! I’ll help you. Wait right there!” I jog over to retrieve my phone from where it’s still docked in the speaker and playing music.

  I dial in the three numbers I used to fear. Only this time I’m a little giddy to press the send button. My ringer sounds before I get the chance. It’s Ash.

  I abandon the emergency call and pick up. “So you are never going to believe what I found outside my window—”

  “That fucking prick!” Ash growls through the line. “You will not believe what just happened!”