Fire Mountain

by Vickie McKeehan

  “Daddy says you’re only the second female mayor the town has ever had after grandma,” Allie bellowed, looking up at her aunt. “When I grow up, I plan to be number three.”

  Gemma looked down at her eager, brown-haired niece. “Of course, you will. It’s a Coyote tradition.”

  “I want to be a fire chief,” Daniel chimed in.

  “Another worthy goal. Set your sights on Tully Beacham’s job.”

  Van draped an arm around his sister’s shoulder. “So, does this mean I come to you with my parking tickets and you get rid of them?”

  “No,” Gemma said with a laugh, drilling a finger into his side. “I expect you to pay them all on time or I’ll have you thrown into the stockade.”

  “Stockade?” Van grumbled and ruffled his sister’s hair like an older brother might do. “That’s what I thought you’d say.”

  Lianne swooped in between the two and wrapped her boss up in a hug. “I know the mayor. Can you believe it’s really happening?”

  “I can now,” Gemma admitted, glancing around at all her supporters. “Now it feels real for the first time. How on earth did you pull enough strings to even get this outcome?”

  “I gave away quite a bit of chocolate. Chocolate for votes,” Lianne confessed. “I wasn’t even convinced they’d follow through with a vote for you, though.”

  “Is that even legal?” Gemma questioned.

  Standing behind Lianne was Luke Bonner who threw an arm around Gemma. “I’m not sure anyone cares. The town has some new blood. I think they’re happy about the way things turned out. They’re all willing to give you a chance.”

  “That’s my feelings exactly,” Zeb advised. “I’m glad you won. Maybe you can clean this town up so the crap that happens here will stop trickling over to the Rez. Make my job a lot easier.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Gemma promised and meant it.

  Her friends on the police force got in line to shake her hand. First, it was Payce, then Dale and then Jimmy Fox. But it was Jimmy who wanted to know, “Is this an end to the band playing at Greendeer’s on Saturday nights? Will the mayor still perform?”

  “No way I’m leaving Fortitude,” Gemma assured him. “You won’t get rid of me that easily. The mayor’s entitled to have one night of fun, right?”

  “We were hoping you’d feel that way,” Dale admitted with a grin. “Although we had been auditioning new talent while you were gone.”

  “You did not,” Gemma fired back. “Don’t make me hurt you on the steps of City Hall.”

  Vince Ballard, the owner of Wind River Vineyard, handed Gemma a bottle of his finest red. “For an intimate celebration later. Drink that, and you’ll swear you’ve taken a trip to Tuscany’s rolling hills and lush valley. I promise.”

  “That good, huh?”

  “I’ve been working on this blend for five years, my pride and joy. And yes, it’s that good. Your grandmother swears by it.”

  “Paloma does love her wine.”

  “So did Marissa. You come from good stock, Gemma. Make sure you keep that in mind and do right by the town.”

  “You should put out brochures about how you grow the best wine here instead of those other vineyards in Napa,” Gemma suggested.

  “Maybe I will.”

  Luke’s nurse, Ginny Sue, handed her an oversized gift bag. Gemma peered inside and pulled out a handmade blanket done in pale blue and smoky gray. She held it up to her face, rubbing her cheeks with the soft yarn. “Thank you. It’s so beautiful. I’m keeping this in my office to use whenever I stay late.”

  “Fleet used to leave at five o’clock sharp,” Harry Ashcomb piped up. “Sometimes earlier if he had to dash out to protect his investments.”

  “But I’m not Fleet,” Gemma fired back. She held out her right hand to the pharmacist. “Are we okay? I heard about your last-minute surge in the polls.”

  “At least I showed interest in the job,” Harry said, shaking her hand. “It’s good to see you taking your win seriously.”

  “You can bet that I will,” Gemma vowed. “In fact, I have an announcement to make.” Looking around for Lando, she reached for her husband’s hand. “First thing tomorrow I plan to put in for federal funds and widen the Wolf Creek Bridge.”

  There were a lot of oohs and aahs from the crowd. But it was Harry Ashcomb who applauded first. “Now that’s what a mayor does. We need to fix that broken-down bridge and bring it into the twenty-first century. If you can get that done, I’ll vote for you myself.”

  Gemma cut her eyes to Paloma’s and grinned. “Woman, you do know your town.”

  Paloma bumped her granddaughter’s shoulder. “It’s your town now. Take care of it properly.”

  That seemed to be a theme. Most of the well-wishers wanted to make sure Gemma would look out for the town, put it first, and make improvements to help with their everyday lives.

  Had this been her destiny all along?

  Before she could figure that out, plump drops of rain began to splatter the concrete. After pumping hands all this time and sending people on their way with hugs, the downpour drove everyone off the steps and back to their cars in a flurry.

  Lando scanned who was left and encouraged everyone to follow them to Captain Jack’s. “Great night for free beer and food.”

  “Nova will drop grandmother by in the car,” Van promised as Gemma helped Paloma into the passenger seat of the minivan.

  “See you there,” Gemma told her brother, resting a hand on his. “Thanks for coming. It means a lot to me.”

  “Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” Van returned with a kiss to her cheek. “You’re my only sister. What else should big brothers do but look out for little sisters? I wish I could’ve done something to save Silby.”

  “Me, too. I wish a lot of things had gone differently back then.”

  “You’re both getting drenched,” Paloma pointed out. “And it’s past my suppertime. I want some of that free food Lydia’s giving away.”

  Gemma grinned at her grandmother. “Yes, ma’am. See you there.” She turned to Lando, looping her arm through his. “Show me this new floor before we head off to the pub. Besides, you need to distract me from my excitement by telling me why you were so late getting here. You barely made it.”

  Lando let out a sigh. “You’re my boss now so I guess I’d better come clean.”

  “You better believe that it’s more of a crime to lie to your wife than lie to your superior.”

  “No intentions of lying to either one.”

  With her free hand, she patted his arm. “That’s good because I’d hate to have to put you on report within the first hour.”

  Arm and arm, they walked down the hallway to the mayor’s office where the workers were almost finished putting down a new floor.

  Henry Leeds, the building manager, met them at the doorway. The man in his fifties had gray hair at the temples and wore a pair of stained overalls. “We didn’t have the hickory on hand that you asked for, the stuff that matches what’s laid in the rest of the building, so we had to go with the bronzed acacia. It’s a close enough match. Chief said it didn’t matter anyway.”

  “He’s right, it doesn’t,” Gemma replied, eager to get a glimpse of the new floor. She sniffed the air. “Will it get out that god-awful smell?”

  “You’ll know by morning,” Henry assured her. “Sorry I didn’t notice the odor before. But I didn’t come down here once Fleet cleared out. Looks like the cleaning crew didn’t either.”

  “It’s not your fault or theirs,” Lando said. “No need to come down this way to take care of what they thought was an empty office. No need to empty the trash from a guy who’d moved on.”

  Henry wasn’t satisfied with that. “Still…I should’ve checked out the mayor’s space before the missus showed up, made sure it was spick-and-span. Would’ve avoided this whole smelly situation.”

  “It’s done and over with,” Gemma told him. “Thanks for putting a rush on it. We’ve got to ge
t on to supper. You’re welcome to come, you and the crew, to join us down at Captain Jacks—free food and beer.”

  Henry’s lips curved in a grin. “The guys would like that.”

  “Great. See you there,” Gemma called out as she turned to go.

  She and Lando made a mad dash down the street in the rain, running toward the restaurant, stepping inside just as a boom of thunder crackled overhead.

  The bar was packed. But people made room for them by squeezing together in a snug band of support. When the group spotted Gemma, they sent up a series of cheers.

  David Border, the new bank president, lifted a glass of ale and shouted, “We’re expecting big things from you. Don’t let us down.”

  Lucien Thorne, the owner of a commercial fishing boat, raised his glass and bellowed, “I’ll be seeing you first thing tomorrow morning to renew my license. Fleet threatened to ruin my business if I didn’t donate to his campaign.”

  “That’s terrible,” Gemma noted. “And illegal. Why didn’t you come forward?”

  “Didn’t I just say he threatened to close me down?” Lucien snapped.

  “That’s nothing,” Joe Don Bowden tossed back. “Fleet told me if I didn’t give him five grand he’d shut down my hot dog stand at the pier for good. I don’t have that kind of money.”

  Lucien looked over at Joe Don in disgust. “How is that any different than what I just said? Fleet was a greedy politician. I hope you’re not like that, Gemma. Mayor Bonner.”

  “I’m not like that,” she stated, even though she wondered if Lucien had gutted some of his catch and left it to rot in that trash can for Fleet instead of her. “I didn’t run much of a campaign, remember? Vote for me, don’t vote for me, I don’t care. We’re all still living in the same town. We’re all still neighbors.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Ellen Emberley said, hoisting her own glass. The sunny blonde ran the garden center next to Captain Jack’s called The Crazy Daisy. She had inherited her green thumb from her gardener father and would often help anyone bring their wilted or dead plants back from the grave. “Marissa Sarrazin knew a thing or two about growing gardenias, fiddle leaf fig, too. Couldn’t grow orchids worth a damn, but then that’s Enid Lloyd’s specialty. You haven’t been to the nursery since last spring. You aren’t letting every plant Marissa ever planted die, are you?”

  “No.” Gemma sent out a nervous laugh. “Why do you say things like that? Two weeks ago you were right there at the wedding. In Marissa’s garden. Didn’t you see how beautiful her flowers were then?”

  “Hmm. So Shaun worked out?”

  Gemma rolled her eyes remembering how she’d panicked at seeing Marissa’s garden wither over the summer months and realizing it wouldn’t look good in the wedding photographs. “You know he did. You’re just fishing for a compliment. Shaun knows what a difference he made to the garden. Maybe because he knows as much as you do about bringing dead plants back to life. He brought the azaleas back and the baby roses.”

  “I heard he did more than that,” Ellen muttered over her glass. “I heard he performed a miracle just getting rid of the fungus you’d let take over Marissa’s ferns.”

  Gemma winced, knowing it was true. She liked Ellen just fine, but sometimes the woman could be a pain, especially if Ellen learned one of her precious plants had died unnecessarily in the field. Hence, the reason she’d hired Ellen’s younger brother, Shaun. “Ferns are hard to grow. Shaun said so himself. And yes, he was a miracle worker. Satisfied now? Not everyone has a green thumb like the Emberley clan. But I’m working on my gardening skills.”

  Ellen’s lips finally curved up. “I like dragging failed gardeners into the spotlight. The attention makes them want to do better.”

  “More like shaming them,” Gemma pointed out.

  “It’s all in how you look at it. You can’t argue about last spring. By the time you got around to it, Marissa’s geraniums were all dead, and her hydrangeas were dropping petals all over the place.”

  “And you know I asked for your expertise as soon as I got a spare moment to devote to her garden. Gram died suddenly for chrissake. There was a long list of things to take care of before the flowers.”

  “I suppose that’s true. I rang up the order for the replacements myself and watched you load every single one in your car.” Ellen’s eyes danced with mischief. “You were so upset I thought you might cry.”

  “Then I don’t know why you’re haranguing me about it. You made several hundred dollars off my grandmother’s misfortune.”

  “Which is why I encouraged you to take care of them before you drove out of the parking lot.”

  “I will. I do. People do have jobs to go to, you know?” Gemma pointed out again. “Not all of us can garden full-time.”

  Lianne took off her jacket and draped it on the back of the barstool before squeezing in between the two women. “On the other hand, my fall garden’s coming along nicely, thanks to Enid.”

  “Enid Lloyd,” Ellen murmured. “Now there’s a woman who takes her flowers seriously.”

  “Not just flowers. Enid grows the best cherry tomatoes and butter lettuce around. She’s been willing to give me pointers.” Sensing Gemma wanted to change the subject, Lianne found an opening. “I think we should go ahead and open up that bookstore your grandmother and Collette planned. Complete with the wine-tasting room in the back.”

  Gemma had needed another topic, but she frowned at Lianne’s idea. “You don’t have enough going on without adding to it? Remodeling that space next-door to the shop would be a nightmare, a headache twenty-four seven. And you have a wedding to plan.”

  “I’m not saying it would be a piece of cake, but I think I could juggle the chocolate shop and oversee the renovations,” Lianne suggested right before she picked up a slice of carrot from the tray Lydia set down in front of her. Dragging the carrot stick through a bowl of ranch dressing, Lianne went on, “I think the town needs a bookstore and that spot is perfect.”

  Paloma, who’d been listening from her perch a few barstools away, coughed out a raspy reply. “For what it’s worth, I think the girl is onto something. Get the smell of death out of that place once and for all. Give it new life. Marissa would’ve wanted it that way. Not to mention, Roland Swinton would want that building to have meaning. If it can’t be a pizza place, then make it somewhere people would be able to gather and enjoy themselves.”

  “It seems I’ve been outvoted,” Gemma conceded. “I just feel guilty piling all the duties at the shop onto Lianne.”

  “It’s partly my fault, isn’t it?” Lianne admitted. “I’m the one who got this brilliant idea you’d make a good mayor.”

  “While I appreciate that, you just keep telling yourself you got me into this, especially when you’re up at five o’clock in the morning mixing chocolate. Think about it then and remember how you and Leia put me on the ballot. For the record, had you asked me ahead of time, I would’ve vetoed the entire thing. But you should know I’m planning to help you out at the shop in the afternoons once I get settled into a routine. My plan is to show up early at the office, get things rolling there, then shift to the shop after lunch, put on my chocolatier hat and do my thing there. Which means I could help with the renovations.”

  Paloma pulled her granddaughter in closer and whispered, “Don’t let it get out you’re a part-time mayor. You’ve got to prove yourself first before you do anything else.”

  “Oh, I intend to,” Gemma vowed. “But I won’t stand around and let the shop go downhill, either. Not that it would fail under Lianne’s management,” she added quickly.

  “I’ve no doubt that’s your intentions, but still you need to focus on the job at hand. I just wish Michael had been here to see what happened tonight,” Paloma said, her voice tinged with sadness. “He could never have imagined that his very own daughter would be in charge of the town.”

  Gemma saw the tears form in Paloma’s eyes and skirted the bar to put her arms around Paloma’s shoulders. “I wi
sh that, too. But unless there’s a time machine around here somewhere, we’ll have to settle for knowing his spirit still lives inside us. Don’t be sad tonight, okay? I don’t like seeing you so down. Is everything all right? Your health?”

  “I’m fine. I’m entitled to get weepy every now and again without anyone questioning whether or not I’ll kick the bucket soon.”

  Gemma handed her a fistful of paper napkins from the bar to dry her eyes. “While I’m looking forward to your stellar advice, I refuse to dump responsibilities entirely onto Lianne. At some point, I still have to make sure the shop continues in the black.”

  “Just don’t spread yourself too thin,” Lianne warned. “Paloma’s right. You’ll be under the microscope for the first few months, people securitizing the job you’re doing. Which means we could wait until spring to start the remodeling.”

  “How long would it take to get the place in shape?” Gemma asked, sipping on her beer.

  “I’m told eight weeks.”

  “You’ve checked out the contractor?”

  Lianne cut her eyes to meet Gemma’s. “You won’t like it. Billy Gafford is the contractor who gave me a quote.”

  “What? Couldn’t we find someone less grumpy and more…I don’t know…people-friendly? What about Adam Greendeer’s brother, Becker?”

  “Booked solid until next June. Look, Luke says Billy’s gotten better these past few months, less crabby. He won’t go into detail or share why he believes that—something about doctor-patient privilege—but Luke recommended Billy for the job.”

  “I don’t believe what I’m hearing. The first time I ever met Billy he was scary, the least sociable person I’d encountered here. Now Luke wants to give him a job?”

  Lianne shook her head. “Billy started his own business recently, and Luke treated him for…something.” She leaned closer and whispered, “The medication makes Billy less volatile.”

  “That’s just great. What if he misses a dose while he’s at work? What if we question his craftsmanship?” Gemma let out a sigh. “I suppose everyone deserves a second chance. But jeez, does it have to be Billy Gafford?”