"Sure I can."
"Right here. Power. That means I'm in charge now." She rolled it up and stuck it in her overalls pocket. "This is going to be fun."
He picked up his tea and blew on it. "Don't get a big head or I'll rip that thing up."
"Big talk," she teased. "I'll be good, I promise."
"I don't need good. I need honest. Nothing but the truth. You get me?"
"You came to the right girl."
At least it made sense now that he'd chosen her. Brianna the Blunt. The one thing everyone always knew she'd deliver—the unvarnished truth.
"There's a red lockbox in the shed, it's got all my papers in it. It's not locked and you can look inside after I'm gone. All the instructions are in there about how I want to leave this world. Pretty simple, girl. If they could throw me in the compost, I wouldn't mind. Ain't legal, though. And I want to go out legal as I can."
Later, over margaritas at the Orbit with Evie, Suzanne, and Merry, she described the encounter, which made her even more sad after the fact.
"The way he was talking, it was like he'd already written his own obituary. And it's so sad that he doesn't have any family at all. How can I be the only one he can ask? Me, of all people?"
"What does that mean?" Evie, her best friend since childhood, bristled in her defense. "You're the perfect person for something like that. I'd choose you in a flash."
Brianna shook margarita droplets off the little plastic sword the Orbit had stuck in her drink. "Sean might have a problem with that."
Evie gave a dreamy sigh at the mention of her rugged fiancé. "I think I've finally talked him into getting a cat, by the way. I threatened him with getting pregnant if I can't get my cuddling needs otherwise satisfied."
"Thanks a lot," said Suzanne, who was drinking virgin daiquiris due to her own five-months-along pregnancy. "Nice to know I'm a living advance-warning system." With her long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, she looked too young and cute for a soon-to-be mother. But Brianna knew she was going to be a great mom. She was phenomenally well organized, for one thing, and very compassionate. The teen shelter existed entirely thanks to her.
"Oh stop. You know I can't wait for your little guy. Or gal. I've already started planning the baby shower."
"No need." Suzanne signaled the waiter for another bowl of guacamole, since she'd inhaled the last one. "I already have it worked out. I'll email you the details."
They all laughed. Typical Suzanne.
"And I finally finished your wedding plans. I'll send that along too. Brianna, you need it too, since you're doing the flowers."
"Yes, ma'am." Brianna saluted her friend. She ignored the tug of jealousy brought on by all this talk of showers and weddings. She wanted those things too. But she wasn't gorgeous like Evie, or flirtatious like Suzanne. She was just…Brianna. It was hard on a girl's ego to grow up with the most beautiful best friends in the world.
Mercifully, Merry changed the subject. "I'm still curious about this old man," she told Brianna, her dark eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Sounds like there's a story there."
"I'm sure there is, but I don't know it." She lowered her voice. "He told me about a lockbox with his papers in it, and I'm halfway tempted to see what's in there. For one thing, Melvin Turner isn't his real name."
Merry's eyes sharpened. "What makes you say that?"
"Well, on the document I signed, a different name was listed. "It said Markov something or other, not Melvin Turner. He said it was the name he was born with. But why doesn't he use it? Why choose Melvin of all names?"
Merry sucked thoughtfully on her margarita. "I can do some digging through the archives if you want."
"No, that's okay. I'd feel terrible investigating a lonely old man. Forget I said anything about his name or any of this." Brianna could have kicked herself for being so indiscreet. What was her problem? Bluntness was one thing, but she shouldn't be blabbing about someone's personal information.
"Forgetting it right now," said Evie promptly.
The others agreed, causing Brianna to give thanks for such good friends. Merry signaled for another drink and once again jumped in to change the subject. "You girls who hooked up with hotshots, I need a favor from one of y'all."
Well, count her out, Brianna thought gloomily as Evie and Suzanne came to attention.
"Have you ever heard of Forest Service lookout towers?"
They all shook their heads. Merry's eyes lit up with the thrill only a newshound would experience over something as random as a tower. "Get this. There are people who sit all day long inside towers built deep in the wilderness, just looking for wildfires. Some of them even live there. They're kind of a throwback, but there are still a few here in California. I want to do a story on the people in those towers. I thought maybe Josh or Sean could get me some names."
"No!" Brianna nearly knocked over her margarita in her excitement. This was the perfect opportunity to deliver on her promise to Rollo. To over-deliver. A plan formed in her mind as quickly as one of her herb garden designs. "You know who's an expert on the history of the fire service? Rollo Wareham."
She'd have to send him a text right away instructing him to become an expert.
Merry's forehead wrinkled. "Yeah, but Sean's the leader of the crew, and—"
"And super-busy getting ready for the wedding and doing all the off-season management stuff, right Evie?"
She kicked Evie under the table. Her friend winced but nodded gamely. "He's definitely on the busy side."
"Rollo was just mentioning the other day that he wanted to do some hiking. Maybe even some camping. I bet he knows where the best towers are. And you know Rollo, everyone loves him. He's like, the most popular of the hotshots."
When Suzanne and Evie exchanged insulted glances, she backtracked. "I mean, the most popular single hotshot. Not that his marital status is at all relevant. We're just talking about his knowledge of weird towers in the wilderness, which I'm sure is extensive. And also how much time he has to check them out. Because he's neither engaged to be married or already married and about to have a baby. To the best of my knowledge…" She trailed off as her friends burst out laughing.
Suzanne folded her arms on the table and gave her a scolding look. "Brianna, are you trying to finagle a camping trip with Rollo Wareham? I'm sure he'd be happy to share a sleeping bag with you."
"No. No, that's not it at all." Her face was turning pink, she could tell. Which, of course, they'd all interpret in exactly the wrong way.
"Aw, look, she's blushing. Well, as far as I'm concerned, it's about time you two got together. You're perfect for each other," Suzanne announced. "Take it from the honeymoon queen."
"I really don't think so," Brianna stammered. But she couldn't figure out how to object to being "perfect for Rollo" without making him seem unappealing, which she didn't want to do in front of Merry.
Merry was tapping a finger on her chin. "This could work out perfectly. We'll all go hiking out to one of the towers. I'll do my reporter thing while you two get to know each other. And…you're welcome."
Brianna slumped against the padded back of the booth. She'd have to break this to Rollo right away. Not only did he have to bone up on fire service history, but Merry would now be trying to throw the two of them together.
So far, their plan was pretty much an utter failure.
8
Every month, Rollo got a fat package of paperwork from the CEO of the Wareham Group. During the fire season, he didn't have time for Wareham affairs, so he usually spent the month of November catching up.
He brewed a big pot of coffee and spread the paperwork over the table in the breakfast nook. As soon as he sat down, his left leg, the one that had fractured in the burnover, began to ache. Damn it. The big hiking trip out to the Breton lookout tower was three days away. His leg better not give him trouble then. It always ached when the weather changed.
Or maybe it ached whenever he had to look at spreadsheets.
He
had nothing against money—he liked it, and had a few personal investments and donations that meant a lot to him. But hedge funds and leveraged buyouts and all that stuff left him cold.
After about half an hour of frowning at an especially confusing report on a new kind of mortgage the Wareham Group was offering, he dialed his brother.
"Rollo-rollo-ding-dong," Brent answered on the first ring. "What's the word, turd?"
Rollo gritted his teeth. His brother still talked like a frat boy, probably always would. "I'm trying to figure out this new subprime thing. I thought we weren't doing those? We never used to."
"Oh no, dude, this is different. These are secured up the ass. Muy low risk, muchacho."
Rollo hated it when Brent pretended to speak Spanish as some kind of badge of coolness. Or something. He hadn't quite figured out what.
"Was there a vote about this?"
"Not everything goes to the board, dude. Why are you stressing about this? It's a good thing. Big cash cow. Third-quarter profits are insane. Bonuses for all. Well, not you. All you do is sit on your ass while I make all the money."
Brent laughed, a high, edgy sound that got Rollo's hackles rising.
"Well, you are good at it, the making money part. I just hope you're spending it wisely."
"Oooooh yeah. Wise is my middle name. Brent Wise-Ass Wareham." He whooped hyena-style. "I think the Warehams need a private jet, what do you think?"
In Rollo's opinion, the Warehams needed a private therapist, not a jet.
"You can fly all those bachelorettes out to your doorstep in Cali. Make them audition in person."
"I'm not auditioning anyone, idiot."
"Right, that's Mother's job."
Rollo clenched his jaw so tight it throbbed. "Tell you what, Brent. Why don't you come out to Jupiter Point? I'll show you around, we'll make a campfire on the beach, look at some stars."
Maybe some good old-fashioned stargazing would give his brother a little perspective. The incredible stargazing was one of the very best things about Jupiter Point. The way the wind currents swirled around the point made the air crystal clear. After the observatory had been built on one of the hills outside of town, the entire town had adopted a stargazing theme to appeal to honeymooners. They even had a motto: Remember to Look Up at the Stars.
Wise words.
But not to Brent, who could be heard yawning hugely on the other end of the phone. "You know what kind of stars I like, Rollington. Naked ones in my bed. Licking my—"
Rollo hung up. He wasn't in the mood for Brent's frat boy crudeness. It brought back too many painful memories. He'd been a lot like Brent back in the day. They'd both spent their childhoods being catered to and treated like spoiled kings. Maybe he'd still be like that, another version of Brent, if the incident that changed his life hadn't occurred.
He didn't regret the change at all. He'd left the old Rollo behind without a second thought. But he would always, always regret the damage done to everyone else. Especially Dougie Berkowitz.
Speaking of which…he flipped through the pages until he came to the quarterly report on the fund he'd set up for Doug as soon as he'd reached legal age. It was doing great. He noticed several withdrawals, which made him even happier. The fund was doing what it was intended to do.
Make up for his horrible past behavior, at least as much as he ever could.
His phone rang—Sean this time. "You busy? I need a favor."
"You got it." He shoved the entire pile of paperwork aside. Friends came first. Especially fellow hotshots.
Sean and Josh picked him up in one of the big Ford Super Duty’s that belonged to the Jupiter Point Hotshots. Snowball, Josh's dog, sat alertly in the back, panting in Rollo's ear. Rollo was so happy to be away from those business reports that he didn't even mind. Maybe he'd get a dog himself now that he'd decided to stay in Jupiter Point.
"Where we going?"
"Back in time," answered Sean.
“Back in time” turned out to be the old airstrip that Sean had inherited when his parents were killed in a plane crash. It was located on a flat stretch of meadow not far from Stargazer Beach. The surrounding beach grass and gentle breezes, not to mention the vintage quality of the buildings, gave it a peaceful, out-of-time atmosphere.
They parked outside the rope that blocked the entrance to the tarmac. The whole thing consisted of two hangars, one runway, one tie-down area and one reception building—all of it about as ratty and rundown as could be.
"I have to do something with this place," Sean told them as he ducked under the rope. "I pay taxes on it every year, throw a little money into maintenance."
Rollo held the rope high for Josh, who was still using a cane. He'd broken his leg running after Tim Peavy when he’d lost it during the Yellowstone fire. The best thing Rollo had done all last season was carry the unconscious and injured Josh out of that burning forest.
"Might want to think about throwing a little more into maintenance." Josh pointed at the rusted tin roof of the reception building. "If a squirrel stepped in the wrong place, he'd be toast."
"I would, but I have a wedding to pay for. Evie gave Suzanne free rein." Sean glowered at Josh. "Which is your fault, by the way. Your little justice of the peace trick means they're doubling up on me and Evie's shindig."
Josh threw back his head and uttered an “evil mastermind” laugh. "You're dealing with a master here. Bow down."
Sean flipped him the bird instead. Rollo was listening to his friends' nonsense with only half an ear. The rest of his brain was sifting through ideas for this place. "Have you tried to sell it?"
"People have tried to buy it, but no one I'd sign any papers with. Remember that dipshit Brad White? The one running for office?"
"Hell yes." They'd all been present at the press conference when Evie finally revealed what Brad had done to her. That had been the end of Brad's political career, at least on a local level. "Asshole. He wanted to buy it?"
"Yes, he said something about condos. It's a great location."
Rollo and Josh were both aiming death glares at Sean, who threw up his hands. "I'd never sell to that guy. Relax. Look, I get an offer on the place every year. But it never felt right. Now I'm thinking, time to settle this thing. It's like a big piece of baggage hanging over me."
Josh stroked his chin. "And by the looks of this place, they would have lost that baggage here."
Rollo chuckled. Josh had a knack for lightening any situation. "So what'd you bring us here for, Sean? Got an idea?"
"Sort of. None of the offers I've gotten had anything to do with flying. Everyone wants to turn it into something else. But this town could use a flightseeing service. My dad did pretty well with the business. And we could use more air support for rescues. Think about all the wilderness around here, most of it inaccessible by road. If we had a couple of planes and rescue choppers based here, we could really save lives."
"Are you thinking the Forest Service would buy it?"
"Yeah. That's a possibility."
They all surveyed the windblown outpost with its tattered windsocks.
"Isn't that a tumbleweed?" Josh pointed at a tangle of dry brush bouncing down the runway. His dog, Snowball, chased after it, barking wildly. A gust of wind sent an old plastic bag skipping into the grass. Snowball decided to chase after that instead. Honestly, with the scraps of trash clogging the airstrip, Snowball could be here all week chasing stuff down.
"All right, so it might need some work," Sean admitted. "But you guys aren't doing anything, are you? Long winter ahead, nothing but time."
"Hey, I'm injured." Josh waved his cane in the air. "Broken leg, fire victim. Remember?"
"Rollo?"
"I just bought a house." At Sean's narrowed eyes, he threw up his hands in defeat. "Fine, whatever you need. Except the roof. Believe me, you don't want me on that roof."
"Excellent." With a big grin, Sean offered him a high-five. "I'm going to ask Brianna for some help too. She's good with tools,
hard worker. At least she wouldn't make the roof cave in."
That gave Rollo an idea. If Brianna was going to be working on this project, maybe there was another potential set-up opportunity. "Brianna's always a good person to have around. Hey, can I bring Finn into this thing?"
Sean's smile dropped. Most of the hotshots who had lived through the burnover had made their peace with Finn. But not Sean. As the crew superintendent, he was responsible. He'd tried to run after Finn, but the fire was already on top of them, and it was Josh who made him stop and get into his own shelter.
Sometimes Rollo wondered if the effects of the burnover would be with them forever.
"Forget it," he said. "Finn's pretty wrapped up anyway. Count me in, though."
Sean nodded. "About Finn—look, I'll think about it."
"Everyone makes mistakes, you know." Rollo shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "And with Finn…I don't know. There was something going on with him."
"Like what?" Josh asked.
"I don't know. He still won't talk about it. But tell me this, guys. During the burnover, didn't you both have some kind of…'come to Jesus' moment? Like, you're looking death in the eye and something big pops into your mind?"
Sean nodded. "Yep. That's when I decided to come back to Jupiter Point."
Rollo turned to Josh. "Josh? How about you?"
Snowball trotted back to Josh's side and he absentmindedly stroked her head. "Yeah, some shit went through my mind. I had trouble shaking it for a long while. But that's history now. What's your point?"
"Point is, something happened to Finn and he screwed up. Is there anyone here who hasn't screwed up?"
"Sure there is." Josh grinned. "My dog. Snowball is perfect in every way. Except for the time she ate Suzanne's rock collection. That was a fairly serious error in judgement."
Rollo threw up his hands and strode back toward the rope. As he ducked under, Sean caught up with him. Josh lagged behind, because Snowball had decided to gnaw on his cane. "Look man, I hear what you're saying. It's not the burnover, it's the damn movie. I hate that thing."
Into the Flames (Jupiter Point Book 3) Page 5
