by Kathryn Shay
“Uh-huh.”
How to describe Celine? “She was nice.” Unless she went off her meds, which happened often. “She was sick some, in the real sense of the word.”
“How?”
He’d promised himself he wouldn’t lie to her for the hard discussions. So he crossed to the bed and sat on the edge. “Grandma was bipolar. That’s a condition where a person has high and low moods all the time, so they need to be controlled by medication.”
“Holy shit! Could I have inherited that? Oh, wait, no, you adopted my dad.”
“That’s right. And try not to curse, honey. Anyway, we have the medical records of your dad’s birth parents, which you can see any time. No history of mental illness in his ancestry or yours.”
“Okay.” For a fourteen-year-old, her gaze was shrewd. “Is that why you guys didn’t have any babies?”
It was why he wouldn’t have any. And he’d lied all his life to Celine about the vasectomy he’d gotten early in their lives. Now that he wouldn’t share with his granddaughter. “Yes.”
“Didn’t you want any of your own?”
“Scott was my own, Kass.”
A rare smile. “Cool.”
“Could you do me a favor and write something in our journal tonight? For me?”
“Yeah. Maybe I’ll write about mothers and fathers.”
“And their children.” He grinned. She could be such a doll. “I need to say goodbye to Colette.”
“You know I can stay with her alone.”
“Don’t you like when Aunt Melinda’s here?”
“Yeah, I do. But I’m old enough to take care of Colette. Besides, I like being with her. We’re all we have left.”
Her comment pierced his heart but he hid his reaction, leaned over and grasped her sneakered foot. “No, Kassandra, that’s not true. You both have me.”
“For now.”
“For now is all we have, babes.”
She giggled, as he hoped she would. “Babes?”
“It fits you.” He stood. “I have to leave. Have fun with Melinda and Colette.”
“’Night, Grandpa.”
He walked out, leaving her on the bed. To show he trusted her in his private domain.
Colette was as sunny as Kassie was brooding. Her grayish eyes lit up when he came to the door. “Hey, Grandpa. You look spiffy.”
“How does a seven-year-old know the word spiffy?”
“Our teacher says it. He’s old, like you.”
He refrained from comment on the old notion and sat on the bed where she’d been playing with her iPad. They talked for a few minutes. He headed downstairs when he heard Mel call out, “I’m here guys.” She had her own keys.
He found her in the foyer, hanging up her coat. “Hi, kiddo.”
“Only you would call a forty-year-old woman kiddo.”
“You’ll always be that to me.”
“How are the girls?”
“Kassie says she’s too old for a babysitter on nights like this. That she can stay with Colette.”
“She could. I’ve told you before you’re over-protective. I love seeing them, but I’m just sayin’.”
“Okay, I hear you. Not on overnights, though.”
“Gotcha.”
“Thanks again for helping me out. I don’t know what I would do without you. I hope I’m not interfering with your life too much.”
“Nah. Sometimes you forget you paid for my college and grad school.” She socked his arm. “Besides, I get to be a mother, and since I don’t have any kids, the girls fill that need. I love them like they’re my own.”
“That’s sweet.”
As he reached his car and got on his way, he thought about his sister, how she’d never married, never had kids but lived a full life as a computer tech whiz. Then he turned his mind to the upcoming dinner. Bob Zeleny hadn’t told him the findings of his report yet because they were incomplete, but he did promise an update.
Chase hoped to God his guys hadn’t been negligent. Bull Warren’s comment still worried him, like none of the other crew did. Probably because he’d heard that Warren complained all the time that he had two ex-wives he was paying alimony and the man liked to gamble. Could Warren have screwed up with all that on his mind? Hell, he shouldn’t have, because they all knew who the mayor’s parents were and how important checking their house was.
He arrived at Black and Blue ten minutes early. The atmosphere here was swank with its white tablecloths, black napkins, modern art on the wall, and interesting lighting. It was also way too fancy a restaurant to have the department pay for, as the three of them could have met anywhere, so he was footing the bill.
What a ridiculous thing to do. For a ridiculous reason: he’d wanted to spend more time with Vanessa Jordan and do it in style.
Chase gave his name to the hostess, who told him Vanessa was already here. As he got closer, he noticed that her short sassy hair, which was always straight, was fluffier and the blond in it seemed lighter. She also wore a dress. Something soft and feminine-looking in a sage green. Usually she took to suits.
“Hello, Vanessa.”
Looking up, she nodded. “Chase.” Purposefully, she gestured around the restaurant. “Fancy place you chose.”
Waiting until the hostess left, Chase sat down. “Before you say anything about the cost, I’m paying for the dinner. I felt like eating somewhere nice tonight.”
“It’s your dime.”
Irked, he lasered her with a look. “That it is.” His tone was curt.
After a moment, she said, “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I was so short. This is a lovely gesture, Chase.”
“Thanks.” Now he saw she had makeup on—green stuff on her eyelids and lipstick—the latter making her mouth lush and full.
A waiter appeared at their table. “Can I get you something from the bar?”
Vanessa said, “I’ll have a Manhattan.”
Chase ordered a scotch.
“I’ll only have one,” she said when the man left. “Since I’m driving.”
“I never have more than one when I drive, either.” He situated his napkin on his lap and when he looked up, he found her studying him. “Something wrong?”
“No. I was thinking that I don’t see you in casual clothes much.”
“Likewise. Pretty dress.”
“You look good.”
“Colette told me I look spiffy.”
“Which grandchild is that?”
“The seven-year-old. She’s a doll.”
“Hi, all.” The fire marshal had come to the table. A burly man—the stereotypical image of a firefighter—he wore a suit and tie dressier than his normal work clothes.
Chase found himself foolishly unhappy that the guy had arrived so soon. “Hey, Bob.”
“Hello, Bob.”
He dropped down into the empty seat. “Pre-ty fancy place, Chief.”
“It’s on my dime, so to speak.” He lifted a brow at the mayor. She gave him a sideways glance.
“Hell, then I’m having lobster tail.”
“Feel free.”
When their drinks came, and Zeleny ordered one, Chase said, “Let’s update now, then we can enjoy our dinner.”
Zeleny took out his phone and called up the information. “The forensics on the fire alarms are back from the special lab in Syracuse. They couldn’t find anything more than we did. There’s no way to tell if they were triggered or not. How much juice was left in the batteries couldn’t be determined.”
“The alarms could have been altered manually.” This from Chase.
Vanessa said, “I suppose my parents could have taken the batteries out if they burned something in the kitchen.”
Zeleny sat back in his chair. “I interviewed your parents, Vanessa. They said they didn’t disable them.”
“You interviewed them without my permission? Without me there?”
Zeleny didn’t pitch a fit, bless his heart. But his jaw tightened. “I’m an officer of the l
aw. That’s within my jurisdiction.”
The mayor let out a heavy breath. “I’m sorry. This is a touchy situation for me.”
His face softened. Vanessa wasn’t usually so conciliatory. Maybe their truce did extend to others. Bob said, “Besides, in my experience, even if your parents took the battery out in the kitchen because they were cooking and that alarm went off, the other two alarms by the bedrooms would’ve functioned properly.”
“Maybe someone else disabled all of them.”
Chase already knew she thought this, had grilled Truck 8 firefighters, but it stuck in his craw. “I trust my men and women. They said they did what they were supposed to and have a record of it. But if you’re implying they sabotaged your parents’ place, that’s a total bust.”
“Truthfully, I don’t know what to think, Chase.” The emotion in her tone eased his temper.
He turned to Zeleny. “What about the cause of the fire?”
“Nothing conclusive yet.”
“It’s been ten days,” Vanessa said. “How can you not have figured out the cause yet?”
“First of all, this is a process. We revisit the scene. Send in new teams. But the causes of a fire are sometimes unsolved.”
“All right. We’ll wait for the final report.”
Zeleny put down his phone and grabbed his menu. “I’m starved.” He went first and picked the lobster tail, baked potato and asparagus.
Vanessa gave Chase a sly look over her menu. “I’ll have the same.”
“Hell, make that three.” He laughed. She laughed and Zeleny smiled.
They’d just finished eating when Zeleny’s phone, still on the table, buzzed. “Sorry about taking this call, but I’m alerted when there’s a suspicious fire. I have to check.” He clicked on. “Bob Zeleny. Oh, yeah, Marci. I know he’s out of...okay, stop crying...uh-huh. All right I’m coming over.” He disconnected but he didn’t look upset. “My son’s out of town on business. My daughter-in-law has a new baby who’s got a fever. First kid. She called the doc and they told her what to do, but she’s upset.”
“It’s scary when an infant gets sick for the first time.” The mayor’s voice was soft.
“I guess. I’m heading over. I’ve had my share of sick kids so I’ll calm her down.”
“You’re a good grandpa,” Chase told him as he got up.
“I gotta say this kid has me wrapped around her tiny finger.” He got up and started away, but turned back. “Thanks for dinner, Chase.”
“That’s nice of him to go,” Vanessa commented. “Not all men are helpful with babies.”
Her skin looked soft in the dim light. He had the urge to run his knuckles down her cheek. And his hand over...other places. Holy hell!
“Were you a good father before your wife died, Chase?”
“I had to be. My wife had issues. I was Scott’s primary caregiver.”
“Oh. Was something wrong?”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to talk about Celine.” He wanted to keep the conversation light, and enjoy the woman’s company.
“What do you want to talk about?”
He pretended to recoil. “Dessert, of course.”
“I’m pretty full.”
“You’re joshin’ me, right? This place has the best pecan pie in Rockford. It’s a staple of Southern cuisine. The pie here ranks right up there with my mama’s.”
“Well, then, I guess I’ll have to try some.”
* * *
The next morning, Vanessa picked up the paper that her assistant had left on her desk. She read the headline then dropped it back down as if she’d been scorched. “Son of a bitch.”
The front page featured a picture of her and Chase Talbot. They leaned into each other, each holding a fork, sharing a dessert. The restaurant had only one piece of pecan pie left, a fact which was going to cause her trouble. A lot of trouble. So was the fact that the chief gazed into her eyes and vice versa. She recalled details now: how blue his were, even in the subtle light, how he had a nick on his neck from shaving, and how he lacked wrinkles common to their age. She’d have been upset at his absorption in her if she hadn’t had the same expression on her face. As an objective observer, she and Chase looked like they were...together . The caption implied they were. Fighting again, or cozying up? You decide.
She snapped up the paper again to see if there was an article. None. Huh!
Unable to tear her gaze from the photo, she remembered how well he wore the black outfit over which he put a beautiful taupe sports coat. She tried all night not to notice the long, lean lines of his body, his sculpted features. But she did.
After studying her picture, she asked herself why she wore a dress that evening. She never did for work things. It was the pretty sage green one, with modest cut-outs at the top. But it seemed sexy, given the atmosphere of the place and their proximity.
Vanessa collapsed into her chair. Should something be done about the implication of the photo? She pressed the intercom on the phone. “Betsy, could you come in here, please?”
“Yes, ma’am.” The door opened in seconds, and Betsy Lucas strode inside. A slender woman with neat black hair skimming her chin, she looked at Vanessa with clear, dark eyes. Cold ones, Vanessa always thought. But she’d been a good assistant.
“Close the door, please.”
Betsy approached the desk and sat down in front of it.
Vanessa rapped her knuckles on the Rockford Sentinel. “Did you see this when you brought the paper in?”
“Yes.”
“The circumstances were not what this makes them look like.”
“I’m sure they weren’t. The fact that you two fight all the time is common knowledge.” Her voice held an odd tone.
“But?”
“Honestly?”
“Of course.”
“That photo makes it look like you made up.”
“Damn it. That’s what I think, too. We went to dinner with Bob Zeleny and he left early. There was only one piece of pie left.” Briefly, she closed her eyes at her stupidity. “What can I do about it now?”
“You have two choices. Make a comment, but the downside of that is a defense could feed the flames. Or do nothing. Whichever you choose, you need to consult with Chief Talbot. You should be on the same page.”
“Our statements will look coordinated.”
“Maybe they should be in sync.”
Vanessa thought for a moment. “I could call the editor. Have them print a retraction.”
“The caption doesn’t accuse you of anything.”
“Of cozying up it does.”
“Not really. That’s phrased as a question.”
“I’ll have to think about this.” She took a long look at the woman. “Thanks for being my sounding board. Okay, what’s my first appointment?”
“A meeting with the Junior League president. You’re speaking at their luncheon next month.”
She rolled her eyes. Some of the minutia of being mayor drove her crazy. “All right, let me know when she’s here.”
When Betsy got to the door, she turned around. “You know, Madam Mayor, I could be your sounding board more. If you’d let me.”
“Don’t you have enough work to do?”
Betsy’s face closed down and she left. Hell, Vanessa didn’t mean to insult her. She didn’t know Betsy very well, though she’d worked with her for a year after her first assistant moved out of the city. She and Betsy never exchanged more than pleasantries, which was true for the rest of her staff.
On impulse, Vanessa got up and walked out to the reception area. “Betsy, that wasn’t a criticism. What I meant in there was I didn’t want to overburden you. You do a wonderful job for me.”
“Do I?”
“Don’t I tell you that?”
Betsy lifted her chin. “Not much.”
Hell. “I guess I was thinking the raises were enough.”
“They’ve been very generous.”
“But?” she asked again.
“For a long time, I’ve been trying to get you to use me in more critical ways. In your decision-making. And I asked about filling the empty chief of staff position.”
“Abigail’s maternity leave is only for a few months. I can do without a chief of staff that long.”
“So you said.”
Best to end this. She was digging herself in deeper. “Let me say clearly then that I’d like to have you as a sounding board. I should get others’ opinions more. And I’m sorry if I offended you. No, that I offended you by anything I’ve done or haven’t done with you.”
“Thank you, Madam Mayor.”
“Make sure you think about what I should do with the newspaper, too.”
“I will.”
* * *
Chase liked teaching, and the new recruits seemed anxious to learn. Making the atmosphere in the classroom even more pleasant was the warm May breeze that floated through the windows.
“So I’ve given you the department’s position about following orders, when to make your own decision in a critical situation, and other tidbits I’ve learned about dealing with authority. You can ask questions now.”
Not one single hand went up. Reed had told him that this was the most reticent recruit class they’d ever had despite their dedication to the job.
Chase perched his hip on the edge of the front desk and folded his arms over his chest. “All right, then. Use the pencil and paper in front of you and write down questions anonymously. I’ll read and answer them. I guarantee you no one will get in trouble.”
Since most faces seemed relieved, he added, “But let me tell you one thing. We’re all here to make you excellent firefighters and we won’t punish you for asking hard questions. Now go ahead and do the task.”
While they were writing, Reed Macauley came to the doorway. “Got a minute?” he asked softly.
“Yeah.” Chase crossed the room and stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind him. Reed looked ten years younger these days since he’d married Delaney. He handed Chase a paper. “Take a look.”
Chase dropped his gaze. Then lifted it. “She’s gonna be madder than a wet hen over this.”
The department psychologist chuckled. “I think it’s a bit more complicated than that.”
“Yeah, I guess.” He explained what happened last night, with some guilt for concealing the feelings he had about the dinner. About being with the mayor.
