Mandy had to admit, the fudge was worth a few minutes of her time. And it made her think fondly of the way Grandma used to bake.
Around the corner, Agnes was waiting in her driveway. She handed Mandy a bottle of water. “We made a phone chain to monitor your progress,” she explained. “The post office reopening is another sign the town is coming back to life. We want you to feel welcome.”
Mandy felt welcome. And appreciated. If only she wasn’t so far behind time-wise.
Utley stood at the end of the block, his baseball cap pulled as low as his bushy gray brows. “You’re late.”
“First day on the route,” she singsonged instead of snapping. She knew he meant well.
Olivia called her cell as Mandy hurried toward the next set of deliveries. “The electrician is here. He says he can’t start work without someone over the age of eighteen on the premises.”
“Tell him I’m on my way.” He’d never wait until she finished. She had at least thirty minutes left, and there was a woman with purplish-gray hair and a pink tracksuit waiting for her ahead. “Tell him... Tell him I have homemade fudge if he waits.”
“Shades of Grandma,” Olivia said. “Is there enough for both of us?”
* * *
THE FIRE ENGINE’S siren cut through the quiet of Harmony Valley like sharp scissors through crisp Christmas wrapping paper.
“I knew that place was trouble.” Ben steered the truck around the corner and gunned it up the street toward the smoking post office.
“Put me out of my misery.” Dad took a hit from his inhaler. The eucalyptus treatment or his anger with Ben seemed to have helped his lung function today. “Just ask the girl out. You need to relax. Maybe then you wouldn’t go rogue and disrespect your boss.”
Ben scowled. “I’m stressed out because of you, old man, not because I’m single.” Going solo to the fire had been a mistake, and Dad was still fuming about it.
“A good firefighter lives a balanced life, because he could go at any time.” Said the man most likely to go at any time.
Ben wasn’t going to touch the balanced comment. “A good firefighter needs to focus so he lives a long life. Families—and fathers near retirement—are a dangerous distraction.” Just look at what had happened to Ben today at the Parish Hill fire. He’d hesitated thinking about Hannah. He’d flirted with Mandy instead of putting away the equipment. As if proving his theory, Ben accidentally hit the curb with his tire. All because he’d been thinking of Mandy.
Dad grabbed the engine’s cheater bar. “I did not make you do that.”
“I’ll give you that one,” Ben mumbled. He needed to get his act together.
He parked behind a white van stating “Perry the Electrician Is on the Job!”
“What would you say if I asked you to stay in the truck?” It looked like things were under control. Smoke billowed a soft, slow gray, rather than a fast, angry black.
“I’d demote you.” The color was high in Dad’s cheeks. There was no hitch to his speech. And he shot a glare sharp enough to wound. “I’d demote you to errand boy.”
Ben got out, smiling. Maybe this call was just what the doctor ordered.
Mandy met them on the open loading dock, fire extinguisher in hand. Her brown eyes had a wild look to them, and her ponytails looked more disheveled than normal. “I think we have it under control. Perry is shutting down the circuit breakers.”
“What happened?” Dad took a wide-legged commanding stance beneath her on the asphalt. He looked full-strength and capable, until he coughed.
“I was changing a lightbulb and everything just went...poof.” Mandy wouldn’t look at Ben. She paced the width of the dock.
Ben noted the scorch marks in the ceiling above a ladder, the drip of extinguisher foam and her bleak smile. “That’s two fires in less than two weeks.”
“Oh, son.” Dad shook his head. “When will you learn?” He slowly climbed the loading dock steps.
Mandy’s eyes narrowed on Ben. “They were accidents.”
“She was using the wrong-wattage bulb.” A man Ben assumed was Perry the Electrician spoke from the side yard where he crouched near the fire control panel. “A costly mistake in these old buildings.”
Inside the mail room, Dad climbed the ladder, heedless of the slight wobble, and inspected the damage.
A stitch of tension drew tight between Ben’s shoulder blades. “Did you see the fire start?” Ben ignored the way Mandy’s smile bared more teeth and hurried up the stairs.
“No fudge for the firefighter.” Mandy crossed her arms over her chest.
“Don’t include me in that ban,” Dad said, knowing full well fudge wasn’t on his approved diet.
Ben steadied the ladder.
“I was working on the panel out here.” Perry stood, hitching up his blue work trousers in back, leaving his belly hanging over his belt in front. “I heard it, but didn’t see it happen. And just let me say—” he pointed at Ben “—big mistake on not earning fudge.”
A pale teenager stood in the office doorway wearing jean capris, an overly long postal service shirt and the curious contempt teens learned by osmosis. She had short, mousy brown hair, Mandy’s soft brown eyes and a frown that probably wasn’t in Mandy’s expressive repertoire.
That must be Olivia, Mandy’s sister and the babysitter Mom had texted him about.
“I heard a pop and a scream,” Olivia said. “Which means Mandy was surprised and it was accidental. Not arson.”
Ben sent Mandy a what-the-heck frown, express delivery.
“Don’t look at me.” Mandy tightened the cross of her arms. “Your mom told her.”
“Your mom and I are tight,” Olivia said mutinously to Ben with a slicing hand gesture more appropriate for the streets than the post office. “And look. I ruined a nail jumping up to watch Mandy run around with the fire extinguisher.” Olivia held up one finger with blurred colors on the fingernail as if it was proof of Mandy’s innocence. “My sister isn’t an arsonist. She doesn’t break the law.” And then she gave Mandy the oddest of looks, as if that last statement wasn’t quite true.
Ben’s investigative instincts flared down his spine. Arsonist or not, Mandy had a secret, one he intended to find. Mandy’s smile didn’t crack under his scrutiny. But it might under the moon.
“For the record...” Dad climbed back down the ladder, pausing at the bottom to catch his breath. “...I don’t suspect anyone here of arson. And I’m the fire chief.” He drew himself up on willpower and a feed-me smile. “Now, where’s that fudge?”
Mandy pointed to the counter in the back. She may have been annoyed with Ben, but she still looked rattled from the fire. She moved her feet every few seconds, and her hands were clenched beneath her crossed elbows.
“It’s okay. The fire is out.” Ben put his palm on her shoulder and ran it down to her elbow, where skin met skin. Without thinking, he’d touched her like that this morning outside the bakery, but she’d been wearing a windbreaker. And although he’d touched her, he hadn’t touched her.
Mandy’s skin was soft. Their eyes met and held. He saw something in her gaze he couldn’t name. A feeling he had no words for.
Color bloomed in her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. Was she searching for a name for this...this feeling, too?
“Oh, man,” Dad said. “This fudge is fantastic.”
Ben’s hand fell away. He took a step back.
Confusion bent Mandy’s brows.
“FYI,” Ben said, trying to lighten the moment. “I can’t be bought by fudge.” He went to see what Perry was doing to the control panel by the bushes.
A loud growl came from the shrubs as he approached.
“Move slow,” Perry cautioned, holding his ground at the panel. “Or you’ll upset Riley.”
“The raccoon?” Ben bent and peered in the bushes, spotting a masked face, pointy nose and sharp teeth. “Now, there’s one angry, stressed-out dude.”
“He could be your arsonist,” Mandy deadpanned.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
BEN ONLY MEANT to comfort.
That’s what Mandy told herself as she and Olivia walked home that afternoon.
Ben had only meant to comfort, a friendly touch to her shoulder, a steadying hand on her elbow.
She hadn’t felt comforted. Their eyes had met, and Mandy’s world had tilted. The man before her came into focus. Those slashing dark brows over thick black lashes. The strong lines of his cheek and jaw, softened by the upturn of his lips. The brawn of his shoulders that carried the weight and responsibility of others without bending.
The man came into focus, not the firefighter, not the fire inspector. Not even the first responder who was kind to old women who’d fallen.
Her body had been chilled, an aftereffect of adrenaline from putting out the ceiling fire. But as she fell into the depths of Ben’s blue gaze, she’d felt as if she’d stepped into a warm ray of sunlight; she’d felt as if his strength was hers to borrow.
“I can see why you have a thing for Ben.” Olivia walked beside her down the cobbled sidewalk of Main Street, knotting the tails of her borrowed postal service shirt at her waist. “He’s hot.”
Denial was automatic. “I don’t have a thing for—”
“Shut the door. You do! I saw the way you two looked at each other.” Olivia tilted her head and fluttered her eyelashes. “It was cute. You’d make a cute couple. You’ll have these tall kids who’ll play basketball or volleyball. And I’ll be like, yeah, I’m the cool aunt who was there when your parents met. Sparks were flying.”
“You weren’t there when we met.” In theory, sparks had flown, although they’d been induced by a cut wire, not personal chemistry.
“Look at how adorable that is.” Distracted, Olivia had a squirrel moment and paused at the window of Mae’s Pretty Things to admire a white crocheted top. She sidestepped until her reflection lined up with the blouse as if she’d tried it on. “I could totally rock this look.” And then her gaze landed on her short brown hair. “If I had better hair.” She plucked the cowlick with her fingers.
Mandy moved to stand behind her, a full head taller. She placed her hands on Olivia’s shoulders. “Your hair is adorable, just like you.”
“I wanted to die when my hair fell out.” Olivia’s eyes filled with tears. “I’ve got this moon face and chunk body.” Her nose and mouth scrunched as if fighting the urge to cry. “I want my body back, not just my life.”
“It’ll come.”
Olivia sniffed, slipping a hand up to cover Mandy’s. “I’m going to buy that top. I have money coming to me. Can I get an advance from my paycheck?”
“No.” Mandy’s hands dropped away. She turned toward home.
“Why not?” Olivia trotted alongside her.
“That’s not the way the adult world works. Besides, you need to save money for cosmetology school. There’ll be expenses, ones whatever Grandpa left you won’t cover.” Mandy cringed. Why had she implied he’d left her money? What Grandpa had left Olivia wouldn’t cover anything.
“I don’t think my birthday money will buy that blouse.” Olivia slowed down.
Mandy stopped. “What’s wrong?”
“I wish Mom would come for my birthday.”
Mandy wished Olivia would stop obsessing about their mother. “You know how Mom is.” Mandy picked up the pace again. “Don’t get your hopes up.”
“It would be nice after all this if we could have a dinner together.” Olivia was on a roll now. “Maybe some holidays, too. I’d like to meet my father. Family is important.” She cast Mandy a measuring look. “You’ve met your father.”
“The last time I saw him, I was four.” Mandy’s dad had no interest in a relationship with her.
They crossed the street near the town square and El Rosal.
“It’s been a long time since we’ve gone out to dinner,” Olivia said. “Can we go tonight?”
Mandy had been watching every penny they spent. She walked to work to save on gas. What harm was there in one dinner? “Okay.” Mandy turned toward El Rosal.
“We can’t go like this.” Olivia tugged her toward home. “We have to clean up.”
Clean up? Wasn’t that what Olivia had said to Ben’s mother earlier?
“What are you up to? This better not be a blind date.” A small thrill went down Mandy’s spine at the thought.
“Would I do that to you?” Olivia’s smile split her cheeks.
“Yes.”
Olivia laughed and kept leading her home.
* * *
“HAS ANYONE PASSED their fire inspection?” Granddad sat to Ben’s right at the bar at El Rosal, the Mexican restaurant on the town square. Other than his gray hair and a couple of sunspots on his burly arms, he looked healthier than Dad. “I’m assuming El Rosal did, since we’re here.”
The red, blue and green color scheme in the restaurant was as vibrant and lively as the Spanish pop blaring through the speakers overhead. Mom had suggested the restaurant’s happy hour as a place to discuss the volunteer fire program between the current and former fire chiefs.
“You want to know what passed?” Ben loaded a chip with salsa, glancing up at the baseball game on the television mounted above the back bar. One out. One on base. “This place, the Italian café and the bakery.”
“There were other places,” Dad groused from Ben’s left. There was still tension between them after Ben tried to take on the Parish Hill fire alone. He was drinking fresh-brewed iced tea instead of beer and hadn’t touched one chip. Not that he wasn’t eyeing Ben’s beer and the chip bowl in a way that said his vow to eat better wouldn’t last through the inning. “The sheriff’s office and the winery’s storage facility downtown passed.”
“Basically...” Ben reached for another chip, elbowing Dad’s hand farther away from the bowl. “Everything that had been updated recently passed. And the rest—”
“Man, I don’t envy you two the paperwork from all those citations.” Granddad cut Ben off.
“There was no paperwork.” Ben was willing to give up all his father’s flaws. “Dad gave them warnings and said we’d be back. Even at the post office, where we witnessed an electrical fire.”
“A warning is fair.” Dad leaned toward the salsa bowl.
The batter hit a foul ball.
Ben drew the bowl away. “You’re soft.”
“I’m allowed to be soft.” Dad picked up a chip, inspected the salsa bowl and then set the chip on his drink napkin. “I’m close to retirement.”
The base runner tried to steal third on a wild pitch and was thrown out. Two down.
“I’d rather you were curmudgeonly.” Ben moved both bowls closer to Granddad.
“That’ll be you.” His father’s gaze remained on the chips. “You’ll be the lonely old man yelling at kids to get off your lawn.”
“So true.” With a hearty guffaw, Granddad slapped Ben on the back. “You’re wound a little too tight.”
The next pitch went wide.
Ben bristled, thinking of Mandy and her smile. “I’m not curmudgeonly. I’m meticulous and honest.”
Dad swung around to face Ben. “You’re meticulous, cranky and single. All of which prime you for mistakes, like that stunt you pulled today.”
“You keep bringing up my marital status.” He’d done so with every woman in town, be she married or available, thirty-five or sixty-five. And Dad was continuously harping on him about dating Mandy. He didn’t want to date her—near kiss aside. He wanted to figure her out and appreciate her from afar. She was a puzzle the investigator in him wanted to so
lve.
And he’d keep telling himself that until he believed it.
Dad narrowed his eyes. “After retirement, I’d like to have grandchildren to spoil.” What he didn’t say was, Before I go early to my grave. “Other than Hannah.”
“Are you adopting Hannah?” Granddad asked. “That kid’s got a good heart. And she wants a kitten.”
“If John Smith shows up,” Dad said in a way that let Ben know Mom hadn’t clued him in on the DNA test, “I’ll need grandkids more than ever.”
“Why don’t you hound Mike and Lisa to pop out some babies?” His brother was married and deserving some grandchild pressure. Ben glanced at the television. Another foul ball.
“I will.” Dad broke the chip on his napkin into little pieces. “The next time I see them.”
“Can we talk business for a minute?” Ben needed to change the subject from marriage and babies. “How can we recruit volunteer firemen? A crew of two is too small.”
“Leave recruitment to me,” Granddad said confidently.
“Watch out, world.” Dad rolled his eyes, looking more like himself than he had lately. “I bet Granddad wants to give a kitten to each recruit.”
“Don’t joke.” Granddad puffed out his round, reddening cheeks. “Harmony Valley should pass a law—every new citizen needs to adopt a cat.” He gestured to Ben with his beer. “Starting with you, Mr. Meticulous.”
“No go.” Ben gently pushed Granddad’s beer back into his space, struck with an idea. “Once Hannah’s gone, I’m living in the firehouse full-time.” Ben drew a breath, ready to continue with the jokes, until he realized the results of the DNA test might mean he’d never move into the firehouse and never pursue a career in fire investigation.
“You can’t bring a woman home to the firehouse,” Dad said with a twinkle in his eye.
“And we’re back to my marital status.” Ben was glad Mandy wasn’t in the room.
“Or lack thereof.” Granddad clinked his beer bottle against Ben’s. “Wouldn’t mind seeing the next generation of Libby firemen before I go.”
Love, Special Delivery Page 13
