“Well, it was buried under a lot of other budget items, but the other chiefs started talking so I went back and read it over.”
“What exactly does it mean for us?”
“From what we can gather, Baytown would receive another paid position, one that would be more over the rescue, EMT side of the spectrum. I’m just wondering what’s the best thing to do.”
“You thinkin’ of taking that job instead of Fire Chief?”
Nodding slowly, he said, “I’m thinking about it.” Mitch said nothing, so he continued, “Been doing this a long time, Mitch. Hell, you know that. When I talked to the Navy recruiter in high school, I couldn’t think of any other job but being a firefighter…and on a ship…fuck, I loved it.” Leaning forward, he pinned Mitch with a stare. “I know y’all thought I did all that because of my dad, including taking over being the Fire Chief when I got back here. Hell, maybe I did. But if I could save one life from dying in a fire, it was worth it to me.”
“And now?”
Dropping his head, he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, massaging the headache that threatened. After a silent moment, he lifted his head and said, “It’s not that I want to get out of firefighting completely, but this job is paperwork, reports, budget, and a fuck ton of training and scheduling. Shit, Mitch, I live in the back of the fire station. It’s like I’m consumed…not by fire, but by the job.”
“And the other position they’re budgeting for?”
“I read their proposal. It would be heading up the EMT, which I already do, and continuing training for those volunteers, many of whom are also fire volunteers as well. Working closely with the Fire Chief, but only responsible for the EMT and not the firefighting.”
Mitch rested his elbows on the desk, his chair squeaking at the movement, his eyes still on Zac. “It sounds like they’re taking your job, which is too overwhelming for any one person, and splitting it into two manageable positions.”
Grinning, Zac agreed, “Exactly! And instead of them hiring someone for the new positon, I’d like to take that one and then they can find a new Fire Chief for me.”
Mitch met his grin with one of his own, and asked, “So, what are you having to think about? Sounds like you’ve already got it figured out.”
Chuckling, he said, “Yeah, I guess I have. I swear, when I woke this morning, it was all muddled in my brain. But, talking it out loud to you, the answer is clear.”
They stood then, friendly goodbyes said, and Zac headed back through the municipal building toward the fire station, his load feeling lifted. Glancing at his watch, he thought of stopping by Madelyn’s house after lunch and that brought a wider smile to his face. Entering the station, his step was decidedly lighter.
After coffee and toast, Madelyn walked back upstairs, re-entering her room, armed with garbage bags, having made the decision to begin the reclamation process here. If I tackle this room first, where my fondest memories are, the rest will be easy.
Starting with the oak dresser, she opened the top drawer, finding it blessedly empty. She was hit with the memory of her mother taking things from the dresser and placing them in a large suitcase open on her bed as she cried. All her mother would say was, “I’m done. I’m so over it. You and I are leaving and starting over somewhere else.”
She wondered if memories were going to assault her at every turn in the process of cleaning out her father’s house. It used to be my house too.
She moved to the second drawer and found it empty as well. The third drawer was stuck and when she gave it a tug, it opened and she stared dumbly at the contents. Notebooks. She did not recognize them as old school items, so she pulled the top one out. Flipping it open, she stared at the pictures on each page. Pictures of her.
Her brow crinkled as she stepped backward, bumping against the bed as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. Recognizing the photographs, printed on computer paper, she realized they had been from her Facebook page from years ago. When she was a teenager, she did not care about privacy settings and all of her photographs were easy for anyone to find. But, why would he? I didn’t even know he knew about Facebook.
The notebook seemed to progress through her sophomore and junior year of high school. It had been hard to make friends so late in her high school career, but she had joined the band and ran on the cross country team. Pictures of marching band practice, races, and teammates filled one page after another. Then came the pictures of friends in school. No sleepovers…no homecoming dances. But at least she had made some friends.
The photographs were simplistic, but chronicled her time after her parents divorced. Licking her dry lips, she moved back to the drawer and took out the next spiral notebook and discovered it was much the same, only now it was her high school senior year. A few more friends, a prom date, and graduation.
Lightheaded, she sunk to the floor next to the bed. There were five notebooks in all. She looked at the two from high school, three from college, and the last one was from the past couple of years. Fewer pictures were in that one and she realized she did not post as much as when she was younger.
By the time she finished flipping through the notebooks, she leaned back against the bed, her head tilted up toward the ceiling. Closing her eyes, she tried to make sense of it all, but her thoughts were scrambled. If he didn’t want to have anything to do with me, why did he search out my social media? Print out the pictures? Take the time to put them in notebooks?
Blowing out a breath, she dropped her chin and stared at the closed books in her lap. And, if he did want to have a connection with me, why didn’t he just call?
8
The knock on the door, while not unexpected, still managed to startle her. Sucking in her lips, Madelyn closed her eyes for a second, steeling herself. Inhaling deeply, she let it out slowly as she walked down the stairs and to the front door. Opening it, she smiled at the man on the other side, standing on the porch. His suit, impeccable. His hair, neatly combed. Blue-grey eyes, bright and eager.
“Mr. Wills, please come in.”
“Ms. Stevens, I am so excited to be of service to you,” he said, his words smooth and gracious. Stepping into the foyer, his eyes immediately swept the room. “Oh, my…”
If he had been a cartoon character, his eyes would have bugged out before turning into dollar signs. Forcing a smile, she said, “Let me be upfront with what I would like to do—”
He whirled around to her, his hand landing on her shoulder. “I understand completely, I really do. This is all too much for you to handle and I assure you that I’m perfectly capable of taking on the whole task.”
“Well, to be honest—”
“What I’ll do is assess all the furniture your dear father collected and give you an itemized list for the auction. I’m willing to get rid of anything that might not sell at auction.”
“Mr. Wills, as I was saying, what I’d like is for you—”
He turned away from her mid-sentence, striding into the living room. “Of course, I’ll pay a fair market value, minus my commission. I’m sure it will be more than acceptable to you and then you’ll be able to move on with your life.”
“Mr. Wills!” she shouted, her hands planted on her hips, finally drawing his attention. “I need you to listen to me and, please, do not make any assumptions about what I do or don’t want.”
His brow knit in a crease and he turned back to her. “Well, certainly.”
Now that she had his attention nerves hit and she wiped her palms on her jeans. “I invited you over today to help estimate the value on what my father had collected. But, you need to know that I have decided to take some time. I’m not going to make a snap decision or a quick sale.”
He nodded slowly, his expression softening. “I understand. I apologize if I was too eager.”
Relaxing her shoulders, she smiled. “Not at all. I appreciate your enthusiasm. And while I will certainly sell most pieces to you, I don’t want to be rushed. I will, of course, pay you for
your time with the assessments.” Looking into the room, she said, “Okay, where do you think we should start?”
Two hours later, many of the antiques piled in the living room had tags attached. David had introduced her to his system of identifying the period, approximate age, and condition of the piece before giving an initial estimate. He explained that the estimate of value was just a starting point and when he got back to his computer with the pictures he had taken and researched the pieces he would be able to provide her with a final value.
Another knock at the door sounded and, expecting David’s assistant, she yelled for him to come in as she crawled over several items. Tripping over a low stool, she landed in a heap just as the door opened. Palms stinging, she looked up in embarrassment, seeing Zac standing in the doorway.
“Uh, hi…” she stammered, blushing as he bent forward to assist her to her feet. Even standing, she still had to lean her head way back to look into his face. When she had been near him at the funeral she was wearing heels but now, in her flat shoes, she realized how tall he was.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his hands still on her waist. “I came by to see if you would like to get lunch, but I didn’t expect to have to use my EMT skills.”
“Nothing hurt but my pride,” she quipped, attempting to cover her embarrassment. The warmth of his fingers on her waist traveled through her body making her very aware of the effect he had on her libido. His dark hair looked as though he had just swept his hand though it and her fingers twitched at her side, itching to see if it was as soft as it appeared.
Hearing a noise, his gaze shot behind her, his eyebrows lifting. “Did I stop by at a bad time?”
“No,” she rushed, stepping back. “David…Mr. Wills is here…helping me with—”
“Fuckin’ hell,” Zac said under his breath as he stepped inside and viewed the mess that he assumed was a living room. “What the hell happened in here?”
She opened her mouth to explain, but David popped his head around the corner, surprise on his face. His eyes dropped to Zac’s hands still on her waist. “Oh,” he said, “I didn’t realize you had company. I thought we could go out to lunch and then I could take you to my office so we can start the appraisal process.”
Deciding to keep his hands where they were, Zac noticed she stepped slightly closer to him. Inwardly fist-pumping, he smiled pleasantly at David.
“I don’t think so, David, but thank you so much for what you’ve done today. I’ll see you tomorrow and we can continue the downstairs. If you can, bring your computer tomorrow. That would probably save time, be more efficient.”
David’s eyes narrowed slightly at the dismissal, but his lips curled into a smile. “Of course. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.” With a curt nod toward Zac, he walked outside.
Zac shut the door behind David and swung his gaze back to hers. “I get the feeling he wasn’t too happy with my arrival.”
Blushing, she leaned forward and whispered, “I think I messed up his plans when I said I didn’t want to rush the process.”
He wondered about her change of heart, but then his gaze drifted over the furniture and the sheer volume of her father’s collection would take some serious time.
Madelyn observed him staring at the mess and felt her blush deepening. “I…uh…” Sighing, she said, “I can’t think of any way to explain this, other than to just say, welcome to my father’s world.”
Uncertain what to say, Zac nodded, his gaze moving away from the conglomeration of furniture to her face. “Hey, don’t be embarrassed. I was just startled at the size of the antique collection your dad had. At least he collected something worthwhile. My old man just collected debts.”
Madelyn opened her mouth, then closed it quickly. His words were so brutally honest and yet, said with a hint of humor.
He grinned, disarming her, and added, “Sorry if that was a bit too much. My dad’s faults were well known in town, so I forget that not everyone knew him.” Observing her gaze avoiding his, Zac said, “So, what’s going on here?”
“My dad collected antiques and it seems that he filled the house.” She sighed, adding, “I’m afraid the whole house looks like this. I had no idea, of course, until I got here the other day.”
His gaze narrowed as he stepped further into the room. Madelyn watched as his eyes not only travelled over the furniture, but swept the ceiling as well. He walked through the room, calling over his shoulder, “The kitchen this way?”
“Uh…yeah…uh…” she said, hastening after him. Rounding the corner, she saw him looking up at the ceiling.
He grabbed a kitchen chair and stood, quickly removing the cover of the fire alarm. Her eyes were drawn to the skin now showing where his t-shirt rode up. Good Lord. His abs were tight and, from what she could see, well delineated. His tan skin was smooth with just a hint of hair leading to the top of his low-slung jeans. It took a few seconds of ogling before she lifted her eyes and saw his blazing at her in anger.
“There’re no batteries in this,” he growled. “Your dad had a house full of wooden furniture, like kindling ready to burn, and no fuckin’ fire alarm?”
Snapped out of her lust, Madelyn opened her mouth a couple of times, shutting it when nothing came out. “I…I guess so.”
“Are you staying here?”
Nodding, she said, “Yeah. I figured I might as well stay here so that I can work on the house easier. Not to mention, it’s cheaper than a week or more staying at a hotel.” She looked around at the mess in the kitchen and her shoulder sagged. “I have no idea how Dad lived like this but, then, I have no idea how he lived at all.”
Zac heard the defeat in her voice and dropped his chin to his chest. Heaving a sigh, he looked up, his heart aching for the sadness in her voice. He knew a lot about regret and wondered if she felt the same.
“Look,” he said, “I’m sorry. Really. It’s just in my nature to look at things through a safety perspective. I’m sure David walked in and viewed a paradise of antiques which must have made you feel good, and then I come in and start barkin’ and make you feel like crap.” He easily hopped down from the chair and set it to the side, next to a pile of other chairs stacked on top of each other. He stepped over, placing his hands on her shoulders, her body feeling so much more fragile than he imagined it would. Now that he had seen the inside of Lenny’s house, he realized what a massive undertaking she was forced to deal with.
“Hey, why don’t I get you out of the house, take you to lunch, and we can pick up some batteries on the way back.”
Madelyn stared for a moment, indecision filling her mind, before she nodded slowly and her lips curved slightly. “Okay…yeah, that’d be good.”
Laughing, he threw his hand over his heart, claiming, “You’re killing my ego, Maddie. I was afraid I was going to get shot down like David.”
Narrowing her eyes, she poked him in the chest. “Somehow, I think, Zac, that your ego doesn’t often get bruised. You strike me as the type who doesn’t exactly have problems getting lunch dates…or any other kind of dates.” As soon as the words passed her lips, she inwardly grimaced. He probably thinks I’ve been thinking of him…and dates. She hated the blush she felt climbing up her face and was grateful he appeared not to notice.
“Nah, I work too much to have many dates,” he admitted. Sticking his elbow out, he said, “Come on, let’s get out of the fire trap and have some good pub food.”
“Finn’s? I haven’t been there,” she smiled. “Well, not since I was a little girl.”
“Then you’re in for a treat,” he promised.
Walking inside Finn’s, the familiar scent caused Madelyn’s eyes to grow large as a memory flashed through her mind. She remembered her father bringing her here occasionally for a burger when she was a child. The pub special was always bigger than she could eat and he would finish it for her. Of course, her father would have to order another beer, saying he needed something to wash it down with and that would make her mother a
ngry. Sighing, she wondered if all her memories would be tainted with what had become of her family…arguments and abandonment.
A hand on the small of her back startled her back to the present and she twisted her head to look up at Zac as he guided her to the table. He called out greetings to a few people and she recognized the MacFarlane brothers behind the bar, both of their gazes landing on them before breaking into wide smiles.
The server settled them into a booth in the dark section that had been a bank vault in its original days. The dim lights cast a small glow over the occupants and, since the lunch crowd had already left, they found themselves alone.
“They’ve got lots of good food,” Zac said, his eyes never leaving her bent head as she poured over the menu, noting the auburn highlights in her dark hair as it fell in a curtain, hiding her face.
Her head suddenly popped up and she exclaimed, “I think a pub burger sounds fabulous, and they’ve got one with crab and brie on it!”
“And fries?”
Her eyes lit and a smile split her face. “Of course.”
Zac gave the order to the server and then sat back, staring at her. He had only been around her a few times and, yet, she appeared so multi-dimensional. He was never sure which Madelyn he was going to get…happy, sad, angry, or appreciative. That pretty much sums up someone grieving.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, her smile slipping from her face.
Blinking, he said, “Sorry. Nothing. Well, not nothing. I was actually thinking that you’re a very interesting woman…with a lot going on.”
Madelyn sucked in her lips, uncertain if that was a compliment or not.
Seeing her face fall, Zac inwardly cursed. He wanted to ask more about her—what she did, where she lived, the antiques in the house—but felt like every subject was a landmine. The server brought their beers and he took a long sip, grateful to have something to do.
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