Christmas Sparks (Stonewater Stories Book 1)

by Ginny Frost

  “I, ah…” Ryan scrubbed his hair. “That was unexpected,” he said finally.

  “Tell me about it.” She snickered. Sex in a B&B, with her ex-husband coming back any minute. She sat up straighter. “Oh shit.” She jumped up, searching for her robe.

  “What’s wrong? Did I…?” The question trailed off as his brow furrowed.

  “Jill and Mikey will be back soon.” She gave him a look, hoping he’d understand her family couldn’t find her with some man in her room. Especially if Earl brought the kids up. “Hurry.”

  Ryan seemed to catch her drift and searched for his missing pants. “Uh, I didn’t think about… I’m sorry.”

  She tossed a shoe at him. “Don’t be sorry. Be dressed.” She rushed into the bathroom to clean up, hoping Ryan would pick up the slack. Exiting the room in record time, she found him hunched over the bed, dressed, adjusting the covers. More points in his favor. She blinked at him for a second, an image of him with her children by their Christmas tree. A buzz burned in her chest, and she forgot how to speak.

  She considered throwing some clothes on as a knock sounded at the door. “Open up, Mom.” Margaret turned to Ryan, the breath caught in her throat. She waved her hands frantically, trying to tell him to be causal, businesslike, aloof, responsible. He merely blinked at her and grabbed his clipboard. Where did that come from?

  Dismissing the detail, she cinched her robe and called out. “Just a minute.” She almost added, “Keep your panties on,” when she realized she wasn’t wearing any. Fluttering her hands at Ryan again, she pulled in a deep breath. It was no one else’s business but her own. Hell, Jill would probably give her a fist bump over the conquest of the fireman.

  Poised and ready, she opened the door.

  ***

  Ryan hung back, standing next to the door, almost in eyesight, trying not to hide. He screwed his face up into his best “I have bad news for you, ma’am” expression and waited for the onslaught.

  The boy rushed inside, hitting Daisy’s thighs at a hundred miles per hour. She grunted with the blow, but took it like a lineman. Ryan suppressed a smile. The daughter strolled in, gaze glued to her phone. She easily detoured around her mother and brother, throwing herself down on the bed. Then the ex walked in.

  Ryan swallowed and tried to bury his guilt. He didn’t feel a bit bad about Earl. The ass let Daisy go. The kids were another story. Ryan shook his head as Earl marched up to her. The man was already talking as he entered, as if they’d been conversing in the hall.

  “You see what I’m getting at, right, Margaret? Christmas, my place. I told you…” His words dried to dust as he locked gazes with Ryan.

  Earl’s brow furrowed, and his lips curled away from his teeth. “What the fuck is he doing here?” Earl didn’t wait for answers. He took a giant stride toward Ryan, his fist cocking back as he moved.

  Having older brothers paid off. Ryan ducked the first swing easily and caught the second in his free hand. “Mr. Porter? Your wife and I were discussing my inspection of the fire damage.” He said it that way on purpose to appear innocent. He also waved the clipboard, a handy prop when establishing authority.

  Earl blinked, tugging his fist back out of Ryan’s grip. “Oh, yeah,” he mumbled. No apology for trying to clock Ryan. “I… you two in the room alone… She’s in a robe, and…”

  “Jesus, Earl. Think for once? To say such things right in front of the kids.” She tsked, turning to Ryan, a slight glare in her gaze. “And it’s ex-wife, mister.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Ryan said, with a dip of his head. Apparently, he nailed the deadpan because Daisy put a hand over her mouth, probably covering a grin. He glanced away from her, not able to look at her without serious emotion pouring from his expression.

  “Well?” Earl tapped his foot as if Ryan had kept him waiting for hours.

  He turned the clipboard to face the man but held on to it. The explanation of damages was for Daisy’s insurance, not his.

  “You can see here,” Ryan said, “the damage was due to two factors—faulty wiring on the sconces, and the extra wiring added for the additional electronics. I assume a TV used to hang over the mantel.”

  Margaret snorted at the same time as Earl launched into a description of an oversized screen with every bell and whistle available. No wonder Daisy kicked him out.

  Ryan held a hand up to stop the outpouring of description.

  “Okay. I see why they ran the extra electrical. But the wires were not insulated correctly, and the second point… the fireplace. Ventless fireplaces cause a lot of moisture. Exposed wires, moisture, and then fire.” He tapped the diagram of their living room as he explained. “In addition, the gas line extension caused a small explosion. The main line didn’t go up, and the damage was minimal.” His first, and hopefully, last gas explosion.

  Earl looked at him blankly. “Wha? Say again?”

  Daisy dashed over, giving the man a slight hip check. “Let me see,” she said to Ryan. Her tight lips and flashing eyes, telling him not to say any more to Earl. “Oh.” She scanned the paperwork. “Will the insurance cover the damage?”

  Ryan’s skin flashed cold.

  Time to spill.

  He swallowed. “I believe so, ma’am. Looks like your installer is at fault.” Slowly, he turned the pages of the inspection to the photos. He tapped on the third pic, the one with his father’s idiosyncratic Sharpie notes on the inside of the wall by the wiring.

  His father always jotted on the walls, the pipes—sizes, line ends, information to jog his memory later if he needed to do a repair. Or sometimes notes written for the homeowner to reference if they dug into the wall.

  Most people who hired Dad appreciated these hidden notes, telling them the destination of the wire or the size of the pipe. But it also dammed his father as the culprit in the fire.

  He didn’t mean to share so much, especially in front of Earl.

  “So, your dad fucked it up, then?” Earl snorted. “Guess I’ll be suing his ass for all he’s worth. Thanks for telling me, Kramer.”

  With that, Earl turned and left, no goodbyes or hugs for his kids, only a snort of laughter and some mumbling.

  Ryan gazed down at Daisy, who looked back up at him, her brown eyes melting with sympathy.

  “I’m sorry, Ryan. But don’t worry. It’s my house. Earl has no say in anything.” She patted his arm and the guilt bit deeper.

  “No, Daisy. If Kramer and Sons are at fault, then they’ll make up for it. I’ll break the news to my dad. It’s the right way to do business. I’m not covering anything up.” His last words came out harsher than he meant.

  But Daisy didn’t know everything he’d been through in Albany, as an assistant building inspector for a corrupt man. His boss insisted Ryan cover for certain contractors or bury the insurance claim for another. Thank God, the mayor pulled Ryan out before the pressure forced him to do something illegal. The guys who skimmed and cheated received a fine and were fired. Two faced an upcoming trial. Retreating home became a better option than hanging around in the midst of a scandal.

  He glanced down at the papers. “I’m going to talk to my dad before I file. As a courtesy, because he’s family. But I’m filing the report as is, with Kramer and Sons' faulty work as the cause of the fire.”

  “Oh, Ryan.” Daisy wrapped her arms around him, and he accepted her embrace. They must have held on a little too long, because Jill interjected with “God, get a room.” And they broke apart.

  Chapter Eight

  Ryan took a deep breath as he shut off the truck. He’d parked right in front of Kramer and Sons. Even with the early hour, Dad would be there. Ryan was ready for a quick getaway but also displayed his presence without fear. He’d throw the bad news at Dad and then submit the paperwork to the insurance and town offices. He only had to get out of the truck.

  Sighing, he slumped in his seat. Can Dad afford to pay for such damages? It might start a domino effect, with other clients launching insurance claims against
him. Would Ryan receive requests to inspect his father’s work all over town? It was an eventuality that might sever any good feelings left between him and his family. At this point, coming home sounded like a terrible idea.

  The rap of knuckles on his window rocked him out of his thoughts. His dad stood next to the truck, an enigmatic smile on his face. “’Morning, son,” he mouthed.

  Ryan exited the vehicle and hovered near his father. Words failed him. But as always, David Kramer knew the score.

  He clapped Ryan on the back gently, not like his asshole brother’s usual overpowered smack. “Come on inside, son. Let’s get it over with.”

  “Dad, I…” The thought remained unfinished. His chin dropped as his chest tightened.

  “If you had good news, you wouldn’t be sitting out here. I can take it, son. Come on in.” He tilted his head toward the back entrance and then walked ahead in his slow, methodical manner.

  For the first time, Ryan sensed the weight of years on his father’s shoulders. The man should be skating into retirement, not cleaning up messes left by his children.

  He trudged behind his father, entering the back of the building, in the direction of the offices. Dad held the door to the clutter-filled space. Everything was labeled in black Sharpie. Ryan sighed at the damning habit. It helped when completing a project or repairing some earlier work. But this time, it sealed a probable lawsuit. Hopefully, Daisy would be kind and not bankrupt the place.

  Ryan threw himself in one of the two metal chairs. His father closed the door. “Let’s hear it,” he said plainly. Same old Dad.

  “Do you want Ted and Brett in on it, too?” Ryan asked, waving at the closed door. Ted meant complications, heated words, and accusations. He was so angry lately, but the man probably planned to take over the business at some point.

  Dad broke into his thoughts. “It’s still Kramer and Sons. He’s a son. While I’m still head honcho, I’ll deal with the building inspector.” Not a drop of contempt in his voice, only his same plain, direct speech. Upstate through and through.

  “The Porter place.” Ryan fiddled with the clipboard.

  His father held his hand out for the documents, and Ryan turned them over without a thought. His dad was honest as the day was long. Perhaps not the best contractor in the universe but a good guy. Ted was an angry mess lately. Ryan could hide the information from his brother until he filed the official report.

  “Dad, it’s the unvented fireplace, in combo with the wiring.” Ryan scanned his father’s face for a reaction. The man flipped through the report until he landed on the pages with the photos.

  “Wiring?” he asked, holding up the clipboard. Ryan nodded, his heart sinking to his toes. “Huh.” His dad pulled out a pair of half-moon glasses to inspect the photo. “It’s my handwriting.” He scanned the pictures, over the glasses and then through them. “And there’s the date.” He tapped the pic as he handed the clipboard back to Ryan.

  He glanced at the photo, the date from last winter scrawled next to the wire’s purpose in small, tight letters and numbers. “Yep,” Ryan agreed.

  “Yeah,” Dad said, folding his arms. “The same day that idiot, Earl Porter, fired us. I’d labeled the stuff right before he stormed in, pissed off about the cost, the work, and the rush. He and your brothers were snapping at each other all the time. I told him if he wanted it done right, I needed a couple more weeks. The guy lost it. Tossed me and your brothers both out the door with our tools. I came right back here and wrote up a cancellation of contract, then got it notarized. Mailed it certified to the asshole. I wasn’t going to take the fall for his crap. Not then, and not now.”

  Again, he said everything without a hint of inflection. All matter-of-fact.

  Ryan blinked. The weight on his shoulders lifted. If his dad’s company wasn’t responsible… “Do you still have a copy of the cancelled contract?”

  “’Course, I do. I been doing this for how long? I know how to keep everything tidied up. Your brothers sure as hell don’t. That’s why I’m hanging on. I leave, and those two jokers will have the place razed by Sunday.”

  Dad inspected the five filing cabinets in the room. Seeming to pick one at random, he sorted through the files. “Used to have a girl to file until Brett scared her away, flirtin’ too much. The boy ain’t never gonna learn.”

  Ryan swallowed hard. The two other offices held more file cabinets. Finding the right papers quickly seemed an impossibility. Ryan slapped his forehead hard. “Dammit, I told Daisy about the report in front of Earl. He’s probably spent the day getting rid of evidence and making sure you take the fall for it.”

  “I’d like to see him try,” Dad said evenly as he pulled a folder from the cabinet. “There ya go. All legal and pressing. I got the copy of the notarized stuff and a thing from the post office with the certified mail stuff. That all ya need?”

  Ryan gaped at the folder, skimming through the contents. Canceled contracts, receipt of certified mail, phone log of calls to Earl and the permit board. Filed and in order. His father’s diligence impressed him. Using the information, he could lay blame on the right person. Earl’s word against Dad’s, but with his brothers and the documentation as a backup, Kramer and Sons should be in the clear.

  “It’s perfect, Dad.

  Chapter Nine

  Margaret fidgeted with her purse as she sat outside the Building Inspector’s office in town hall. Nothing made you feel like a kindergartner sent to the principal’s office like sitting in a chair in a hallway. She’d wiggled out of a staff meeting to be here and forced Jill to watch her brother.

  Ryan left a message at the Inn, asking for a meeting. Kinda odd. No personal phone call or contact. He’d even referred to himself as Mr. Kramer.

  Not good.

  She hadn’t slept with him to get a good report. Other people might perceive it that way. That afternoon was only opportunity knocking. She liked Ryan, his heroism, his bravery, his cute butt. Hopefully, no one at the Inn heard their lovemaking.

  Had Ryan been a one-off and now it was all business? God, she hoped not, but as she considered the cold tone in his message, her heart sank.

  Earl wandered down the hall and threw himself in the chair next to her. “Good thing I stayed in town to help,” he said, arrogance pouring through his words. “The Kramer idiot called me in, too. Don’t he know it ain’t my house anymore?”

  Margaret said nothing. She stared straight ahead, avoiding eye contact with her ex. If he guessed about the tryst, even after Ryan had been so smooth at the Inn… She didn’t want to think about it.

  “I’m sure I don’t know.” Her words sounded stiff, but Earl worked her last nerve on a good day. Dealing with him during the disaster literally drove her into the arms of another man. Unconsciously, she crossed her legs. Earl didn’t need to know anything about anything. Why the hell was he even invited to this?

  After another minute, Ryan came down the hall, his arms full of paperwork. He nodded to both of them in a quick, curious fashion, and Margaret’s heart hit her shoes.

  A one-off after all.

  Her first affair since she booted Earl out, her first since the divorce finalized. And it had come to nothing. Her stomach dropped. Somehow, their wild passion didn’t last a lifetime. Biting her lip, she followed Ryan.

  Earl bumped into her as she tried to enter the room. He shot her an obnoxious look. She’d forgotten he knew nothing about common courtesy or manners. By the end of her marriage, she’d questioned his upbringing. He pushed in front of her, taking the one other chair.

  Margaret smirked, knowing Ryan could see her expression plainly. Maybe he’d rethink inviting the man here. She walked into the tidy office with binders, scrolls of blueprints, and filing cabinets. Ryan stood by his desk. Several folders lay on the blotter. He glanced up and frowned. Standing, he pulled his chair out from behind his desk and offered it to Margaret.

  Okay, one point for him.

  He moved back behind the desk, looking awkward for
a second. He glanced from Margaret to Earl, then back to her again. She cocked her head expectantly. Ryan’s whole demeanor changed. The tough, sure firefighter appeared in his stance, in his expression.

  “Ms. Porter, Mr. Porter. I wanted to inform you of my final report for your insurance company. The inspection of 22 Cardinal Drive shows the structure is sound. I recommend repairs to the damaged wall in the living room before you occupy the building again. Also, keep the electricity shut off to that portion of the house until repairs are completed.”

  Earl broke in. “When do we get our money?” He leaned forward, his elbow on his knee, his chin in his hand.

  The corner of Ryan’s mouth curled up. “You’re here as a courtesy, Mr. Porter. And to be informed of the situation. Now…” He shuffled papers on the desk, pulling a large report from the pile. He handed it to Margaret without a glance at Earl.

  She pursed her lips as she accepted the report. Something smelled fishy here.

  “The cause of the fire comes down to faulty wiring…”

  Ryan didn’t even finish saying the last word before Earl bounced to his feet, yahooing like some yocal.

  Margaret rolled her eyes, not caring if her ex saw.

  “When’s your daddy writin’ me a check, then?” Earl grinned like an idiot, and Margaret again questioned her choice to procreate with the man.

  “Ms. Porter, here you see that the wiring for the additional outlets and lights are incorrectly insulated. The new unvented fireplace created dampness in the room and walls, as they do. The brand you purchased is among the worst for moisture build-up.” He glanced over at Earl, who scowled. Ryan remained professional.

  Margaret studied the complicated report. She’d have to take Ryan’s word for now, until she looked at it herself. Maybe even have a lawyer peruse it.

  Ryan flipped to the pictures. “Here is where the contractor left off.” He pointed to the Sharpie date, December 12, written on the inside of the wall. “Mr. David Kramer informed me December 12th was his last day on the job. Mr. Porter fired him before he finished wiring the new outlets and sconces for the fireplace.”