Love Inspired December 2014 - Box Set 2 of 2: Her Holiday FamilySugar Plum SeasonHer Cowboy HeroSmall-Town Fireman

by Ruth Logan Herne

  “At four forty-five in the morning?”

  “Last I knew there was no clock on romance, Tina. It is what it is.”

  “I actually prefer folks assuming we’re on a clandestine mission than star-crossed lovers, Max. In this town, the latter gets you into a lot more trouble. Everyone knows and rarely forgets. Take it from the voice of experience.” She paused and he did, too, looking down. “Fishbowl romance isn’t fun.”

  “The joys of small-town living.” He walked her past his car and to her door. “I’ll see you at nine, okay? But if you do fall asleep and want to sleep in, that’s fine. Earl’s in early and we can handle things.”

  “I might, then. Thank you, Max.”

  She looked up at him. Met his gaze.

  Maybe it was the flicker of fresh-washed moonlight now that the rain had passed. Maybe it was the way the soft night breeze lifted the short tendrils of her hair, dancing them around her face. Or the way her mouth parted slightly, looking up, as if wanting to say more...

  Do more.

  He breathed deep, holding her gaze, wondering what it would be like to lean closer. Touch his mouth to hers. See what Tina Martinelli was all about.

  “Max, you want coffee?” Seth’s rather loud attempt at whispering effectively ended the moment. “I figured it’s late enough, we might as well start the day.”

  Tina stepped back.

  So did Max.

  And as Seth lumbered out of the shadows of his Dutch Colonial across the street, the sound of a car squealing east on Main Street said someone had just made a quick getaway, and in a tiny, quiet town like Kirkwood, the noise stood out. Blocked by trees and houses, they couldn’t make out the car, or even ascertain where it had been parked, but that told Max two things: one, the car hadn’t looked out of place, or Seth would have noticed it. Therefore the car was a regular visitor to this end of town.

  And two, that they were on the right track in circling around the small business center of Main Street, Kirkwood Lake, because someone was up to no good.

  The question was who?

  He turned back toward Tina.

  She’d paled at the sound of the car, and he didn’t have to explain the car’s presence or rapid retreat. The stark look of her face said she got it.

  But wished she didn’t.

  “We’ll figure this out,” he promised. “In the meantime, you could always come stay at the house. Mom would love the company, and you wouldn’t be alone.”

  Her jaw jutted, stubborn. “I’ve gotten used to being alone. And Seth’s right there, across the street. Most people don’t want to mess with a county sheriff if they can avoid it.”

  “But your apartment backs up to the cemetery and the woods leading to the highway,” Max argued. “And Seth has to sleep now and again, although with two babies, that’s a trick in itself.” He didn’t add that someone had torched the business not far from Seth’s home, clearly not worried about a sleeping sheriff’s deputy.

  “I thank God for their grandmothers every day,” Seth droned, yawning. “Shift work has proven to be a marvelous thing. But Max is right, Tina. Most arsonists target something. In this case it’s either you—”

  Max hated the stark look that came into her eyes as she glanced south toward the burned-out building.

  “—Sol Rigby or the town. Sol’s out on Log Cabin Road, and it’s pretty tricky to get to his cabin without being seen. If it’s the town, then this guy could strike again anytime. We took precautions on Gianna’s business and the hardware store with increased security cameras and alarms, but that doesn’t mean he can’t get around those to start a fire. But what if he’s targeting you personally, Tina?” Seth crossed his arms and stared her down, and instead of getting mad like she’d have done with Max, she looked resigned. “How do we keep you safe?”

  “Right now, all I want is to be warm,” she retorted. She pulled her hoodie tighter and moved toward the side door leading up to her apartment. “We’ll discuss this later. Whoever it is has left for the night, and I can’t think straight on little sleep and no coffee. Good night, guys.”

  She slipped into the side door, locked it, and Max and Seth waited until they saw her light blink on upstairs.

  Max turned toward Seth. “I don’t like this.”

  “Me, either.”

  “We’re caught in the middle, not knowing what’s really going on until we get to scene two, which is usually another fire.”

  “And no one wants that.”

  “But figuring this out with three diverse directions will take legwork.”

  “I’m calling the fire chief and the arson investigation squad once we’re at first light,” Seth assured him. “I don’t know what this guy—”

  “Or woman.”

  Seth acknowledged that with a nod. “What he or she was looking for, but the team will want to comb things carefully again before they can clean that mess up. Which means the eyesore of a burned-out building might be around for a while unless the investigators feel confident that they’ve got everything they need. Not exactly the draw for the Christmas light festival we hoped for. By the way.” Seth pulled the storm door open and let Max move into the house ahead of him. “Do you need help with the festival stuff? I know everything’s gotten kind of dumped on you, and it’s your own stupid fault for staying away so long, but you are my kid brother and I’ll help. If I have to.”

  Max started to laugh, realized the house was still mostly asleep, stifled the instinct and shook his head. “You take care of babies, that cute wife, your various new Italian relations and your job. Plus guarding the town. I can handle the lights.”

  His words sounded braver than he felt, but he’d put the lighting array folders into his car the night before so he wouldn’t forget them this morning. If he grabbed some slow minutes at the hardware store today, he’d go through the schematics and get an idea of how the lake-wide show worked.

  He’d tackled some pretty impressive jobs overseas. He’d learned to blend, build and dismantle secretive missions on a moment’s notice. But those had been on the down-low. If he messed up no one but he and his team knew, and they were trained to improvise on a moment’s notice.

  Not one of those clandestine missions made him as nervous as the possibility of messing up Christmas for an entire town. If for no other reason than to make up for times he was a jerk as a teenager, Max wanted this festival to go right. It was the least he could do. And with the upcoming committee meeting, he’d be face-to-face with folks from his past, including Pete’s mom. Truth to tell, he wasn’t sure how to handle that.

  * * *

  “Max!” Mary Sawyer claimed a hug the moment she laid eyes on Max the next night. The embrace felt good...and bad all at once. The mix of emotions tunneled Max back in time. The Sawyers’ beachfront yard, the campfire, the bottle Pete had paid a college guy to buy. If he’d put a stop to Pete’s foolishness then, would Mary Sawyer’s son and his girlfriend be alive now?

  “It’s so good to see you.” Mary’s warm voice softened his flashback. “Look at you! All grown up, and so handsome. We’re so proud of you, Max.” She gripped his arm in a show of support and affection. “I hope your mother’s told you that. Every summer we put up honor flags along Main Street, remembering our men and women in the service, and I make sure yours is right there, dead center, for everyone to see. Welcome home, Max.”

  His heart churned.

  Seeing Pete’s mom, being wrapped in her motherly embrace, felt like old times. But Max was a trained army officer. He’d stayed alive doing clandestine work because he knew better than to wallow in false security. Mary Sawyer was gushing over him because she remembered the good times...

  And because she didn’t know the whole truth. Only three people knew the full extent of what happened that hot August night, and two of them were gone.


  Guilt climbed his spine, then tightened his neck. Several other committee members came through Carmen Bianchi’s door just then, including Tina. One of them called Mary’s name. She patted his cheek and moved off to talk with an unhappy-looking woman. Max didn’t recognize her, but within two minutes of opening the meeting, he realized that if he was marking friend and foe, this woman would be firmly in the latter column.

  “There’s no way that can work,” she insisted when Tina went through Charlie’s basic plan. “You don’t know me, Max Campbell, but I’ve been on this committee for eight years, and I can’t believe we don’t have a more detailed description of what goes where than that.” She pointed to the folder of papers Max laid out on the table of Carmen’s living room. “We have to have everything constructed and ready to go in a week. I don’t see that happening.”

  “We’ve got a contract with Holiday Lighting out of Buffalo, Georgia.” Mary Sawyer sent Georgia Palmeteer a calming look. “They take care of the park display. The town does the Main Street lighting, same as always, and Max will oversee the rest. Most folks do their own thing, so it’s not like he even has all that much to do. I think he’ll do just fine.” She beamed a smile his way, and once again the thought of what should have been broadsided him. He needed to come clean, and he needed to do it soon because enduring her understandable wrath was far better than letting a nice woman like Mrs. Sawyer think he was a great guy.

  Aren’t you a great guy?

  Now? Yes.

  Back then? No.

  Pete and Amy’s accident was a long time ago. You were a kid. Look at the facts, man. Your buddy had a wild streak those last couple of years. It wasn’t your job to look after him.

  Max knew better. They’d been friends a long time. Pete was like a brother to him, and if there was one thing Campbell brothers did well, it was take care of one another. When they weren’t beating on each other, that is.

  “We’ve left the majority of a massive fund-raiser in the hands of someone who doesn’t write down what needs to be done,” retorted Georgia. “That’s plain carelessness.”

  “Oh, Georgia, really.” Mary rolled her eyes. “It’s gone fine every single year. Why are you all up in arms over this?”

  “We Palmeteers like things done right,” she snapped, and her pretentious tone said she didn’t think all too much of Mary Sawyer’s more casual attitude. “Leaving things to chance is for amateurs. Folks pay good money to come here for the drive through the park and the Main Street Festival. I, for one, don’t take that lightly.”

  “Having Max on board offers us an opportunity for change,” Tina remarked.

  The committee shifted their attention to her.

  “Max and the guys might not do everything exactly the way Charlie would have done it, but as long as we have everything lit and beautiful, what difference does it make?”

  “Because we like things the way they are, young lady.” Georgia’s clipped tone said she didn’t appreciate being brought to task by someone half her age.

  “With an aging population, it’s probably good for us to get used to change now and again,” offered Carmen Bianchi as she rolled an old-fashioned tea cart into the room. “As the younger generation takes over, we have two options, to compromise and trust them to lead the way or give up. And I never give up on anything so, Max Campbell, you have my vote.” She smiled at Max and indicated the cart with a dip of her chin. “I know this isn’t as fancy as what we used to get at Tina’s café, but Tina did the baking so we know that part is wonderful.”

  “Well, that’s another thing,” Georgia groused as she bustled to be first at the portable coffee setup. “Tina’s done the majority of food for the park vendors and for our ‘Christmas on Main Street’ day. How are we going to manage this with her business gone? I say we tap into The Pelican’s Nest restaurant and see if Laura will help with food. I mean, it seems silly not to ask her with Tina’s place out for the count.”

  * * *

  Georgia’s careless words stabbed Tina’s gut.

  She’d half-expected someone to come up with this idea, and it wasn’t a surprise that it was the town supervisor’s ill-tempered sister, but to have her spout it here, in front of the whole committee, without putting it on the agenda or checking with her... She felt blindsided, and rightfully so. It wasn’t as if the entire town didn’t know her broken family history and the animosity Rocco had shown her for years.

  Mary Sawyer turned toward Tina. “What do you think, Tina? County health laws say we need to produce food in a certified kitchen, so we can’t just cook up a storm at home. Liability rules prevent that. How can we set this up?”

  “We have a couple of options,” Tina replied. She felt Max’s gaze, but kept her attention focused on the other committee members as they helped themselves to coffee and cake. “Certainly we can ask Laura to help. We’ve done that in the past and, if you remember, Rocco made it clear he wasn’t about to undercut his business by feeding folks in the street.”

  Several nods said they all remembered Rocco’s mean-spirited replies.

  “But with Rocco gone, Laura might be more willing to help. Who would like to ask her?”

  No one spoke up, but then Carmen Bianchi raised a hand. “I will, dear. No harm in trying, I always say, and I don’t know Laura so there’s no hard feelings either way.”

  “Thank you, Carmen.” Tina smiled at the aging Italian woman and quietly thanked God for bringing Carmen Bianchi and Gianna Costanza to town the year before. The two expert seamstresses had brought a thriving business and warm, open hearts to Main Street, a definite plus for the popular village.

  “With or without Laura’s help, we’ll be fine,” she went on, and when a couple of people raised skeptical brows, she met their unspoken concerns head-on. “I haven’t been spending these four weeks with my head in the sand. Piper Harrison has offered the use of their kitchen at the McKinney Farms Dairy store. And Lacey Barrett has done the same at the apple farm across from the Campbell house on Lower Lake Road. If we set up the heated tent on Main Street like we always do, we can have food prepped at either or both of those locations, and we can do on-site cooking/grilling right in the food tent like we’ve done in the past.”

  “That would work just fine,” Mary announced. “Tina, thank you for making those arrangements. And I know the fire department is excited to be manning the grill as always.”

  “Perfect.” Tina smiled at her, glad that her legwork had defused the situation. “And—”

  “Well, that’s another thing,” Georgia interrupted with a tart glance to Carmen’s east-facing window. “How in the name of all that’s good and holy are we going to have a pretty, sweet, inviting Christmas festival with the mess from Tina’s fire just sitting there, getting wetter, soggier, smellier and sloppier every day?”

  Tina’s heart froze, the very heart that had built a thriving business over years of hard work and sweat equity. It didn’t matter that she felt the same way. To have Georgia throw it up in her face in a sneering, I’m-better-than-everybody way cut deep.

  “It may not be a problem.”

  Attention shifted to Max. He splayed his hands, clearly comfortable with taking charge as he stood and moved toward the group. “The investigation into the fire is still incomplete. I know the arson squad feels the need to comb through the remains of Tina’s coffee shop to find clues about who would do this kind of thing, but I also know they’ve slated the comb-through for tomorrow. After that, we should be able to schedule the big equipment for demolition and removal.”

  “They can get it done that quickly?” Mary Sawyer looked impressed.

  “The change in the weather is pushing them,” Max told her. “And they know the town needs to put a sad piece of history behind them and move on.”

  “But what if he strikes again?” wondered Jason Radcliffe, another committee memb
er. “I’ve been a volunteer fireman for years. Arson is rarely a single-crime event. How do we protect the town and the festival? I can’t pretend I’m not concerned about that.”

  “Me, too.”

  Again all eyes turned to Max, and Tina had to give it to him. His squared-off, rugged but calm stance said he’d do whatever it took to get the job done. And when he smiled at Georgia Palmeteer, Tina was afraid the older woman might keel over on the spot. Clearly her sour temper didn’t make her immune to Max’s dark good looks and take-charge style.

  “But that’s why the squad wants to get this done. If there’s evidence to be found at the scene, they might be able to make an arrest before the festival and that would put an end to our concerns.”

  “Oh, it would!” Georgia nodded as if Max was the smartest—and cutest—thing on the planet.

  “It would be a relief,” Carmen agreed. “The thought that someone could destroy another person’s hopes and dreams is a shock in such a wonderful town.”

  Her words provided the balm to close the meeting peacefully. As Tina tugged her coat from the row of hooks inside Carmen’s kitchen door, strong hands reached over hers, withdrew the coat and held it open for her to put on.

  “Thank you, Max.”

  He frowned at the coat, then her. “It’s too cold for this jacket.”

  “I only have to go up the hill to get home.” She tugged her coat sleeves down over her hands to avoid the deepening chill. “And it wasn’t this bad when I headed down here. I must have missed the weather report that said arctic air was nose-diving into Kirkwood Lake.”

  “Lows in the twenties,” Max advised. He turned toward Carmen and gave her a big hug. “You did great. Thank you for hosting the meeting and for your vote of confidence. I wasn’t sure which way things would go right then, but your words tipped the scales. I’m grateful.”

  “Well, it’s much ado about nothing,” Carmen replied. “When folks don’t have big things to concern themselves with, they pay too much attention to little things.”