by Kathryn Shay
“I’m sorry, dear.” Grandma brightened. “This is a wonderful complex.”
“I can see that. I love your décor. She touched the angora afghan made of wonderful greens and blues. “This is lovely.”
“Grandma likes to knit and crochet.”
“And cook,” Grandpa said.
“Which reminds me. I have to check the lasagna.”
Holly grinned. “One of my favorites.”
“Joey’s too. You have a lot in common.”
Oh, Lord. Now Grandma was going to match-make. Well, he had brought the woman here.
“Come with me, dear.”
Holly only got as far as the dining room when she stopped in the wide space. “Oh, Josephine, those are beautiful.”
From his seat in the living room, Joe studied the array of dolls displayed on the three long shelves. Him when he was young, her and Grandpa as bride and groom, him and Grandpa as firefighters. And more. She pointed to one. “Oh, is this Joe?”
“Yes. I made one of him as a child, another as an adult.”
Holly cooed over the kid one, then picked up the doll of him in his uniform. She traced the line of his jaw, then the slope of his shoulders. For a minute, he was mesmerized by her touching him.
Geez she was touching the doll, not him.
“I think I need that beer. You, Grandpa?”
* * *
The ride home started in silence. The headlights threw his face in shadows, but showed his square jaw and rugged nose. When the quiet went on too long, Holly wondered if Joe regretted bringing her to see his grandparents. Damn it, she was afraid to ask.
Get some nerve, girl.
The side of Holly who wanted to be assertive, who wanted to be spontaneous, kept badgering her. Before she could speak, he said, “You were pretty damn cute with my grandparents, Holly Michaels.”
Relief, out of proportion to the circumstances, besieged her. “I was?”
“Making a fuss over the little knit things on the tables. Her afghan.”
“Those knit things are called doilies. And they all were beautifully crafted. The afghan was priceless.”
“Too fussy for my taste. She crocheted and sold the afghans when they were first married to make extra money.”
“They’d be worth a fortune today on the Internet.”
He passed a car on the expressway and when he swerved back into the lane, he continued the discussion. “You seemed interested in her dolls.”
“I was. Joe, they’re exquisite.”
“I agree. I get a kick out of mine.”
“You should.”
“I remember Dylan, a firefighter buddy, telling me when he brought his soon-to-be wife to see them, she fell in love with the dolls.”
“Did you inherit her creativity?”
“Well, I spent my whole childhood with them.”
She started to laugh. “You didn’t crochet, did you?”
“Hell no! But Grandpa likes to draw. He encouraged it in me. I have to say I was pretty good back then.”
“Do you still do it?”
“Nah, not after high school, when I took a lot of art classes. Can you imagine how that would go over at the fire house?”
“Like with your coffee. Are male firefighters all so macho?”
“Yep.” He winked at her. It was a sexy thing, winking, and sometimes Linc used to do it when they were still together as a couple. “Big, tough, handsome guys that we are.”
“That’s too bad. Sensitivity is attractive on men.”
“So, did you have fun?”
“Are you kidding? They spoiled us. The lasagna, the cookies.” She could still taste the sugary confection. “What were they called again?”
“They’re actually similar to the fried dough that you get at fairs. But the Italian name is crispats.”
“Do you speak Italian?”
“Si, bellissima donna.”
“What does that mean?”
His gaze stayed on the road but she could see he was amused. “You’ll have to look it up.”
She thought she knew. Had he just called her a beautiful woman? And why the hell was he flirting with her?
You’re flirting too.
Was she?
When they reached the condo he drove into her side and faced her. He was macho, all right, with shoulders that spanned the width of his seat.
“This was fun, Holly.”
“Yes, it was.”
“You know, they’re never going to stop asking about you.”
“That’s sweet. I’ll remember them, too.” She squeezed his arm. “Goodnight, Joe.”
“Goodnight.”
She got out of the car as he did. And walked her to her front door. “Go inside, I’ll wait.”
“You’re a real gentleman.” She wanted to kiss him on the cheek but she didn’t dare. “Thanks again for including me.”
She unlocked her door and went inside, then down the hall to her master suite. While she got ready for bed, she thought of the unusual evening she’d spent. It was nice while it lasted. But she wouldn’t count on any more of them. Men were fickle, she’d learned from Linc, and she wasn’t going to get sucked in by another one even if he was charming. And handsome. And sexy.
Too bad!
Yeah, it was too bad.
She forced herself not to think about him. But as she turned back the covers, she looked over. Hmm, was his bed up against their adjoining wall? Impulsively, she climbed onto the mattress and touched the plaster. She whispered again, “Goodnight, Joe.”
Chapter 4
* * *
When Chase attended City Council meetings, he sometimes appreciated the sessions, got to give input, and was satisfied with the result. Sometimes, Vanessa Jordan drove him nuts. Perhaps their friendly truce of a few days earlier would soften the latter this morning.
He sat back in the leather chair, one of fourteen at the conference table. She was backdropped by the arched, Palladian windows of city hall and the lights above sparkled off the blond in her hair.
He watched her tell yet another council member she was against his proposal. “I’m afraid I can’t approve the activity center, Lawrence. Our budget is tight this year.”
The center was needed for the increasing teenage population in the town of Rockford.
“I don’t understand why. The property was donated. So there won’t be any cost for the three fields we want.” Lawrence Cook was the director of Parks and Recreation for the city. He’d fully embraced FAN, the Family Assistance Network the fire department had started. He often worked closely with Reed Macauley and Delaney Shaw, the people who’d spearheaded the program. “Madam Mayor, the cost is miniscule compared to what we’d have to pay for the land.”
“We have other parks. I’m afraid a swimming pool that size, the pavilions and a carousel are still too expensive for next year’s budget.” Which would be voted on by the community in June.
Cook’s jaw tightened and the tension in the room spiked, as it usually did when she denied a request. “Kids need a central place with an updated teen center, a new pool and a bigger, safer merry-go-round. Everybody’s taking their mental health seriously, these days, like the fire department. Everybody but you, Madam Mayor.”
Her hands curled on the tabletop. Chase was glad she was trying to control herself. “True, I voted against FAN. But I accepted the program when overridden by a majority of votes. And I’ve complimented the fire department on what they do for families many times.”
The vote on FAN had been close, though, because she held forty percent of the power. But it passed by a slim margin. The last mayor had that kind of control, too, but he’d been more in sync with the fire department. To give her credit, she was brought on for her fiscal responsibility platform.
“Would you like to take the tally on his proposal now?” she asked, glancing at the officials with voting privileges. Out of the ten city council members, she’d only need two to swing her way.
“
Mumbles of assent.
The vote came out sixty/forty in defeat of the proposal. When the meeting ended, Lawrence stood abruptly, slapped his files on the table, yanked on his coat and strode out.
Chase caught up with him in the hallway. “Sorry about this, Lawrence. I wish we’d gotten the new activity center.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “She’s a bitch.”
“She has different opinions than some of us.” As soon as he said that, he realized he was defending the mayor.
“She slashes every goddamned thing.”
“Maybe you should talk to her.” Instead of cursing her behind her back. In public. He could still see the vulnerable woman she’d been the night her parents were hurt.
“Yeah, sorry. She gets under my skin.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I heard around town that she was being considered for a state senate seat. Man, I wished she’d get it.”
“I didn’t know that.”
Chase glanced across the room, and saw her talking to Dawson Billings, a hotshot businessman who’d also been invited to meetings and given him a hard time on the brownouts. Hmm. The guy stood pretty close, touched her arm. Holy cow, did the mayor have a boyfriend? Not that people their age shouldn’t date. Chase had been seeing a woman on and off for a couple of years, though his grandkids had pretty much ended that relationship.
But when Vanessa noticed Chase talking to Cook, she approached them. “Lawrence, would you like a private meeting with me today?”
He was clearly taken aback. “Why?”
“I meant what I said about our budget. But I researched some grant money that might be available. We could afford to spend some funds on your project, and if you could get grants, we might be able to swing the whole thing.”
Now that was progress and real outreach on her part.
“Our city shouldn’t depend on grants and fund raisers to provide for our kids.”
Her face closed down. And her spine stiffened. “Fine.” When Cook stormed away, she stayed remote and said to Chase, “Are you ready for the next meeting?”
He checked his watch. “Yeah, the three groups from Truck 8 should all be there in ten minutes.” Most of the town officials were housed at city hall. His office was a couple of floors up from hers. “Would you like to ride over with me?”
“No. I’ll take my car.”
“What happened to our truce?”
“I’m trying to soften my attitude toward you and the others. But I don’t want to appear to favor the fire department.”
He practically snorted. “No worries on that one, Madam Mayor.” He didn’t need her attitude, either. “I’ll see you at the firehouse.”
Not knowing exactly why she pissed him off with the refusal to go in his car—they were both coming back here—he tried to blank his mind of the woman as he drove down the street. Instead, he thought about his granddaughter Kassie. She’d been sad this morning, and he didn’t know why. Her parent/teen journal entry from last night had said, “I DON’T WANT TO TALK TONIGHT.”
One step forward, one back. Delaney Shaw, who’d had frequent counseling sessions with Kassie the past seven months, had suggested this method of communication. The teen would write in the notebook at night about how she was feeling and in the morning, the parent would read it and respond. The theory was that sometimes children couldn’t vocalize their state of mind face-to-face, but could put their thoughts down on paper. It had opened dialogue between Chase and Kassie. Not this morning, though. And he was worried about how troubled she was. He’d already lost his son, he couldn’t... He cut off that thought, too. He’d have to work harder with her.
He arrived at Truck 8 before the mayor did. He liked this small, compact firehouse that had a lot of open spaces, and was comfortable and unassuming. When he entered the hallway, he was hit by the strong scent of dough and coffee. In the kitchen, he found all shifts present. The captain of the house, Patrick Green, nodded. “Hey, Chief. Want coffee?”
“I can get it. Thanks, Pat.”
Chase poured himself a mugful and sat. From the end of the table, Joe Santori waved. “Thanks for the pastries. It kinda takes the sting out.”
“Like hell.” Bull Warren fisted his hand on the table. “This is fucking stupid.”
Chase raised a brow at the craggy-faced man with shoulders like a boxer, though he knew none of the guys were happy about what would probably turn into an interrogation.
The cap said, “Careful, Warren. Our mayor called a meeting and we need to be respectful.”
As if on cue, Vanessa entered the room. “Good morning, everyone.” He’d noticed earlier that she was all buttoned up tight today in a sage green suit. Then and now, he refused to notice what the color did to her eyes. And she wore black heels.
That, on anybody else, he’d find sexy. As soon as he had the thought, he banished it.
Chase stood. “Can I get you coffee?”
“No thanks.”
A place was left for her at the head of the long rectangular table. He got up and walked over, and when she reached the open spot, he pulled out the chair. She frowned but sat, facing the group. From Chase’s viewpoint, they looked like a bunch of pissed-off gangsters.
“First, I know my questions might be hard for you today, so let me say that you’ve done a good job installing alarms outside of bedrooms and on all levels of elders’ homes.” Building codes now required the additions on all new construction, but the fire department had made sure the older structures had the alarms as well.
Several firefighters listened to her acknowledgment without responding. This wasn’t going to be easy for them or the mayor.
“It’s the testing of the alarms every month and replacing batteries over ten years old that I’m concerned about. Some follow-up is needed now.
“In case you don’t know, my parents were gravely injured in the fire that broke out at their home. I’m here to review how this station house instituted these protocols every month.”
Captain Green handed her a clipboard, which usually hung prominently in the office. “As you’ll see, Ms. Jordan, there’s a thorough record for the last six months. This month is on top.”
She scanned the list. “Firefighter Warren was the last to check the devices.” She looked up and Bull raised his hand. “It says here you checked them at ten o’clock on April 13th. Who else was with you?”
Warren gave her the stink eye. “We have to take everybody in the truck when we do this.”
An odd response, Chase thought. His mother would have said, his answer was a suspicious rattle from a snake.
“I’m aware of that practice. Who went inside with you?”
He lifted a beefy chin. “Nobody.”
Frowning at Warren, she cocked her head. “I thought we decided you’d go in twos.”
“I went alone.”
A deeper frown, marring her brow. “Which of you is his officer?”
Green leaned forward. “I am.”
“You allowed him to break with protocol?”
The captain seemed torn, signaling he didn’t like what he was about to confess. “I was off for a funeral that day. We had a substitute officer who might not have known our drill.”
“Who took your place?”
“Um, Lt. Dylan O’Roarke.”
She removed a pad from her bag and scribbled on it.
Warren’s face flushed and his big hands fisted. “I checked the damn things. They all worked.”
“Warren, watch your mouth.” This from Chase.
Vanessa gave Chase a warning look. Don’t protect me, it signaled. She focused in on the surly firefighter. “I realize checking the alarms that frequently for fifteen percent of the population is a lot of work. But by my count, those alarms have already saved three people’s lives and probably kept a lot more from being injured.” She checked the clipboard again. “So, Firefighter Grant. You were on the month before Firefighter Warren. Were the alarms working then?”
Joe said, �
�Yes, ma’am, they were. I went inside with her.”
And so it went, back a few months, until the meeting finally ended. “Thank you all for coming in.” Those off shift had gotten overtime so it wasn’t much of an imposition. And the line guys were taken out of service for an hour.
They filed out.
As he passed her, Trevor Tully said, “Goodbye, Mizz Mayor. Great meeting you.”
A few more nodded to her, but out of the fifteen guys, half ignored her. The disrespectful conduct would have to be addressed.
When everyone had exited, Chase once again crossed to her. “I’ll walk you out, Mayor Jordan. I want a word with you.”
Not seeming flustered at all, she said, “Fine.”
They left the firehouse, her in front of him. When they reached her car—déjà vu of the night she morphed into the real person she hadn’t been just now—she turned to him. Those green eyes were startling in the sunlight. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
“Two things. First, how are your parents? I know they were scheduled to go home today.”
She bristled. “How do you know that? The hospital isn’t supposed to give out information, even to you.”
“Holly told Santori.”
“When would she see him to do that?”
“Apparently, they live next door to each other.”
“Ah.” She averted her gaze. Now she was flustered. “I’ve never seen her place.”
“Do you want to?”
“Of course.”
“Did you tell her that?”
“No, I can’t bear the rejection.”
Placing his hand on her arm, he said, “Vanessa, you have to tell her what you want from her.”
“And how do you know that?”
“I have a fourteen-year-old living in my house. I’ve been tryin’ like the dickens for nine months to communicate with her.”
“Is it working?”
“Well, she doesn’t dress in all black anymore, lips and fingernails included.”
Her smile wasn’t forced.
