“I’m Vanessa Libby. Ben’s mother.” She catalogued Mandy like a multipack in a big-box store, looking for appeal or value or counting the options with raisins.
Personally, Mandy liked raisins, but multipacks were always a gamble, and when it came down to it, Mandy didn’t much care if Ben’s mother rejected her.
Vanessa must have found something to like about Mandy because she added, “My son shared something that he said to you, and I just wanted to say Ben—”
Mandy kept her gaze carefully on Vanessa’s blue eyes, although the image of Mrs. Libby’s face was fading into a haze of red and her ears were ringing fire alarms. What had Ben told his mother?
“—is honest to a fault. And I mean fault.”
“Um,” Mandy said intelligently, wishing she was somewhere else. Like in a Siberian blizzard or on the path of a charging rhino or at a café with her crazy ex-boyfriend, the one who used to stiff every waiter, no matter how good the service.
“Are you apologizing for something stupid your son did?” Olivia wasn’t helping. In fact, in Mandy’s mind, Olivia took her place in front of the stampeding rhino. “Is he, like, twelve?”
Mandy’s face felt as if it’d been sunburned. Vanessa must have felt the same. Her cheeks were red, too.
“Ben isn’t twelve.” Hannah’s bright eyes flashed. And then she looked sheepishly at Vanessa and whispered loud enough for them all to hear, “Did Ben do something bad?”
Vanessa tucked the slight girl in the shelter of her arm. “Ben accused Mandy of—”
“Let’s not go there.” Mandy grabbed the keys to the Jeep. She was late doing the mail run. What else was new? “In the scheme of things it wasn’t really anything.”
“You’re right,” Vanessa said with a sly expression that made Mandy nervous. Increasingly, she was sounding like the kind of mother who decided whom her son should marry and then devoted all her free time to making it happen. “We shouldn’t use the word accuse.”
“What did he accuse you of?” Olivia said to Mandy in a whisper just as loud as Hannah’s.
“There were no formal accusations,” Vanessa said. “There were thoughts. Ben had thoughts.” If the calculating look in Vanessa’s eye was any indication, Ben’s mother considered Mandy’s verbal dance around the truth a plus. “Ben had thoughts. About an arson-suspect list.”
“Thoughtless thoughts.” It was too late in the conversation for Mandy to play dumb.
“I’m having thoughts,” Olivia said slyly. It was clear her thoughts were aligning with the matchmaking Mrs. Libby’s. “How about you, Hannah?”
The little girl tossed her hands. “I have no idea what anyone is talking about!”
Mandy might have laughed along with Vanessa and Olivia if she hadn’t felt she was being outmaneuvered.
“I think your granny is trying to get my sister to go out with your godfather.” Olivia’s grin practically filled her entire face.
It’d been too long since Mandy had seen such glee from Olivia. It almost made it worth the embarrassment and suffering. Almost.
Hannah gave Mandy an inspection just as thorough as Vanessa’s had been.
“She cleans up well.” Olivia was doing an inspection of her own, adding, “When she cleans up, which is admittedly almost never.”
“All right.” Mandy pocketed the Jeep keys and picked up a plastic tub of mail. “You’ve had your fun.” She met Vanessa’s gaze squarely. “Your son is intense.” He’d stood in the post office arguing for her safety when admittedly she was more interested in productivity. “And he’s also caring.” He’d been adorable with Elvira. “But he and I...we’re like...”
“Sunlight and moonbeams?” Olivia guessed.
“Raccoons?” Hannah guessed.
“Peas and carrots?” Vanessa guessed.
None of the guesses were right because none of them had seen her and Ben together when they weren’t talking fire safety.
What were they? Not coffee buddies. Not moon aficionados. They were... It was easier to avoid the speculation. “We’re not meant for each other.”
Her statement silenced the peanut gallery. But it didn’t stop Vanessa and Olivia from exchanging knowing grins.
Mandy left on her mail run, but she had a feeling those three weren’t done talking or guessing about what she and Ben would be like together.
CHAPTER TEN
BEN WAS CLEANING the fire truck when a call came in. A small brushfire on Parish Hill.
So much for the theory that one of Mandy’s maintenance crew was an arsonist. They weren’t working in Harmony Valley today.
Ben called Dad on his cell and got no answer. He was probably still in the garage dozing and taking his breathing treatment.
Ben could see the house from the fire station. He jumped into his turnout gear, expecting to see Dad emerge at any moment.
He didn’t.
Mom and Hannah must still be out somewhere.
By the time Ben had dressed in his turnout gear, he’d convinced himself he could handle a small fire on his own. He pulled the wet, soapy rig out of the station’s driveway, fully aware that he was breaking protocol. If it was larger than the highway grass fire, he’d make an immediate call for backup.
He flipped on the lights and siren, picking up speed. If that didn’t wake Dad, he didn’t know what would.
Ben made the turn onto Parish Hill and navigated the switchbacks to the top, looking right and left for the fire. On the third switchback, he spotted it a few feet away from the road. Luck wasn’t with him. Ten-foot-tall flames converged on an oak tree on the slope above.
Ben called for backup. It’d be at least thirty minutes for Cloverdale Fire to reach him. By then, the flames could be racing the wind up the hill, over homes and through vineyards. In theory, he could operate the truck solo, but at the very least, he’d feel better if someone had eyes on him.
A white Jeep with red-and-blue stripes approached from higher up the hill. A woman with ponytails beneath each ear was at the wheel.
He flagged Mandy down. “I need your help.”
Mandy didn’t hesitate. She parked the Jeep across the road. “Where’s your dad?”
“I can’t wait for him. I need you to keep watch.” Ben handed her the radio. “Press this button if anything happens to me and tell dispatch what happened. They know where we are.”
“Okay, now you’re scaring me.” She touched his arm the way kids touched wax statues to see if they were real. One-fingered. Decidedly brief. “Are you sure you can put that out alone?”
“No.” He primed the pump and drew out the hose. He was sweating in his turnout gear. The sun was hot, and the flames were hotter. All conditions he was used to. And yet, he hesitated to go against the fireman code and fight the fire alone. He had more than his own safety to think about now. He had Hannah. He’d mailed the DNA test in. He’d requested the results through the mail. It would take longer, but he preferred an official printed document.
He hated the urge to hesitate. He hated the loss of single-minded focus. He hated that his heart pounded with something other than adrenaline. Right here, in this moment, he should only be thinking about the fire.
“Where is your dad?” Mandy asked.
As if on cue, Dad screeched his truck to a halt behind the fire engine. “You’re fired.” His face was beet red, and he walked to the side of the truck with a purposeful stride and barely a gasp of breath. “You know how dangerous this can be without a full crew.”
Ben exploded with anger. “You want me to treat you like the fire chief? Show up for work! Wear your pager! Wear a mask!”
They glared at each other.
“I feel as if I’m interrupting.” Mandy’s smile was more like a grimace. She held out the radio. “And there’s a fire. Up there.” She
pointed in case they’d forgotten.
“My dear,” Dad said, taking the handheld from her, “can you wait in the cab of the engine where it’s safe?” He led her to the front seat. Once she was inside, he handed her the radio again. “On the off chance that anything bad happens—”
“I know. Press the button.” Mandy met Ben’s gaze. “Be careful.”
Dad put on his turnout gear and breathing apparatus with the speed of a veteran, and they went to work. Ben on the hose. Dad on the pump and gauges.
Just as the fire gasped its last breath, a crew from Cloverdale pulled up. The driver grinned out the open window. “What? You didn’t leave us any?”
“Sorry, Matt.” Dad climbed on their running board and greeted the rest of the crew. He coughed, but not nearly as long as he had after the other fire.
Mandy got out of the truck. “You guys were amazingly efficient and emotionally dysfunctional, all at the same time.”
“That’s all on me.” Ben tapped his chest and lowered his voice. “You saw some of Dad’s meds. He shouldn’t be out here right now.” Right now? He should requalify his statement.
“That explains your epiphany this morning.” She gave his father a speculative look. “I thought it only applied to my sister.”
“It’s more of a universal truth.” One that applied to both of them. He found himself staring at her, committing the image of her cool composure to memory. He had no idea why he felt compelled to do so.
“Speaking of truths, do you think I set this fire?” The way Mandy stared at him—with a glint of challenge and that emotion-cloaking smile—did something odd inside his chest.
“No.” He’d seen her drive the Jeep up the back side of Parish Hill earlier. About the time the fire began, she’d been on the other side of the summit.
“I expected you to say not really.” She grinned, and her eyes sparkled with amusement. All that joy. All that easygoing camaraderie. She was beautiful.
For the second time that day, Ben froze. It was one thing to enjoy her company and maybe feel some attraction in the moonlight. It was another to be slayed by the feeling that Mandy was the kind of special that came along only during a leap year or a solar eclipse.
“You’ve been coached by your mom,” Mandy was saying.
He was still thinking about her natural beauty and depth of personality when the meaning of her words sank in. Ben groaned. “Every bachelor’s worst nightmare—a meddlesome mother.”
“Come on. You gave up your right to privacy when you decided to live with your parents.” She backed toward the Jeep, still beautiful, still grinning, still stealing his breath.
He struggled to participate in the conversation. What had she just said? Oh, yeah. The parents dig. Who knew Eunice’s words of wisdom would come in handy? “You know, I just received advice on how to deal with women like you.”
She stopped backtracking and cocked an eyebrow. “Women like me?”
“Women who question my masculinity because I live with my parents.” He forgot about his hesitation to fight the fire and the attraction he had to her, and grinned. “First, I tell you I’m a fireman.” He struck a pose, hands on hips, doing his best not to laugh along with her. “Then I tell you I’m raising my goddaughter, which makes me good husband material.”
Mandy rolled her eyes.
“And then I give you a brooding scowl.” He did his best, but he kept laughing because she was. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun with a woman.
She took a step closer to the Jeep. “I bet whoever gave you that advice was single.”
“And seventy.” He wished he could extend this moment, analyze it, rationalize it.
She got behind the wheel. “Don’t try that on women you’re seriously thinking about picking up.”
The moment called for exaggeration. He pressed his hands to his chest and took a couple of swaggering steps. “I’m wounded that you’d think I wasn’t serious about you.”
“Goodbye, Fireman Libby.” The Jeep rumbled to life.
“You can rib me more tonight. Under the moon.” That was smooth. And totally unlike him.
“We’ll see.” The Mona Lisa smile was back as she drove away.
Maybe he wasn’t that smooth. It hadn’t worked. And he was disappointed.
With a loud blast of horn, the Cloverdale Fire truck drove away up the hill. There wasn’t enough space to turn the rig around. Ben would have to do the same.
Before he could figure out if it was his bruised ego, his inexplicable attraction to Mandy or both that caused his disappointment over her leaving, Dad came smoking back at him.
“You overstepped your bounds.” Dad grabbed on to a handle on the fire truck as if he needed it for balance. “I’m suspending you.”
“You can’t suspend me.” Ben stood in the middle of the narrow mountain road, suddenly feeling like an idiot. “I’m the only able-bodied fireman you’ve got.”
“Without pay!” His father’s cheeks were florid. He sucked in air. If he wasn’t hamstrung by a shortage of oxygen, he’d probably be on a long-winded rant.
But he was air-deprived, and Ben wasn’t the only one in the wrong. He used Mandy and her unflappable smile as a role model. “Dad, I realize this is hard to hear, but you haven’t been acting like a fire chief. You didn’t wear your mask the other day. You didn’t have your pager or cell phone on you while you were taking eucalyptus hits.”
Suck-wheeze. “You have no idea what a fire chief does.” He spit the words out in one strained breath.
“Maybe because you haven’t shown me.” It was important to remember eggshells. “Regardless, something has to change. I can’t do this for nine months.”
“Son, if we don’t work together, we won’t make it another nine hours.” The fight left his father. His entire body sagged as if the weight of his gear and his hopes were too much. “You have no idea what it’s like to lose your vitality and your self-worth.”
Ben toned it down. “You looked pretty darn strong on this fire.” And he had. With barely a cough.
“Don’t be a suck-up.” Dad walked to his truck, head high.
“I’m not here to suck up,” Ben called after him. “I’m here to protect you.”
Dad executed a three-point turn and headed downhill, hopefully back to his eucalyptus treatment.
Nine months. Ben shook his head.
He’d be disowned long before then.
* * *
THE GOOD NEWS was that Ben had gone from considering Mandy not really an arsonist to not an arsonist at all.
The bad news was she and Ben had something in common—at least temporarily, until Keith was healthy again. They both were watching after the health of a loved one. Olivia looked better every day. Keith had looked healthier today. More able to catch his breath. More color in his cheeks. More authority in his tone.
And Ben? There was something that scared her when their gazes connected, something that caught in her throat and wouldn’t let go. Something that fluttered in her chest and made her steps light.
Friendship, she decided. Because she’d opened up about things she’d never told anyone else.
Romance, a little voice inside whispered. She ignored it.
Mandy hustled through her mail delivery route, trying to make up time. Fortunately, there were fewer than 150 residents in Harmony Valley, many of whom still had their mail delivered to the post office in Cloverdale. Unfortunately, there were a lot of empty and abandoned houses. Her deliveries were spread throughout town, and many expecting mail were retirees. Retirees liked to talk.
“The mail!” an elderly woman with a bright blue streak in her waist-length gray hair called out. She wielded a wooden walking staff to the end of her driveway. She wore a faded jean skirt, a black peasant blouse and Birkenst
ock sandals—a true California hippie. “I’ve been waiting for you, Mandy. It’s Mrs. Stephens, your high school science teacher. Do you remember me?” She was close enough to clasp Mandy’s hand.
“Yes.” She’d nurtured Mandy’s love of science. She still watched shows about black holes and nebulas, programs Olivia found boring.
“I always expected you to be an astronaut. How far did you make it?”
“To Santa Rosa.” Forty-five miles away. Mandy tried to sound cheerful. If nothing else, she’d gotten her fill of medical science as Olivia’s guardian. “Life doesn’t always work out the way we plan.”
“But it tends to work out the way it’s supposed to be.” Mrs. Stephens waggled Mandy’s hand as if trying to shake some happiness in her. “You’re back. And you’re a regular bigwig. Postmaster. I’m just as proud of you as I’d be if you landed on the moon.”
That was a big overstatement. Mandy thanked Mrs. Stephens and tried to extricate her hand.
The retired science teacher wasn’t done yet. “Have you seen Joe Messina? Or Will Jackson? They’re back, too.”
“Not yet.” And she’d never deliver their mail if she didn’t get moving. “I’ve really got to be going.” She managed to free her hand.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Mrs. Stephens beamed as if Mandy’s mail delivery was the highlight of her day. “Same time?”
“More or less.”
“This is going to be my daily exercise—walking out to meet you.” She did a penguin turn, rocking back and forth.
Mandy couldn’t stand the thought of the older woman falling. “I’ll help you back.” At a snail’s pace, but Mrs. Stephens was so grateful, Mandy didn’t mind.
A few blocks over, Mandy was accosted again at a small bungalow.
“I made you some fudge,” Dee Adams said, holding out a red plastic plate covered with aluminum foil. She wore a tank top with an orange tabby on it that showed surgical scars at her shoulder and elbow. Her gray hair was in tight pin curls. “It’s a recipe I got from your grandmother, and it’s better than any fudge Mary Stephens makes at Christmas.”
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