Burned by Lovel (Firefighters 0f Long Valley Book 4)

by Erin Wright

  “There you are,” her mom said in the doorway of the kitchen, dirt and dust and more than a few cobwebs strung across her.

  Penny swallowed the bite – talking with her mouth full was not allowed in her mom’s house – and said, “Mom, you look like a homeless orphan off the street. What on earth were you doing up there?”

  Her mom shrugged and headed for the fridge for a big glass of milk. “Just rearranging and cleaning. It was getting awfully dirty up there, you know.”

  “It’s an attic. That’s what attics do,” Penny pointed out and then took a large bite of the sandwich. Food. It was heaven to her aching stomach.

  “Yes, well, not my attic,” her mom sniffed as she poured out a glass of milk. “Want one?” She held the jug out towards Penny and she nodded. Her mom grabbed another glass from the cupboard and poured her some. “How was work today?”

  “Mind numbing. My brain feels cooked.” She leaned against the counter as she sipped the delicious milk. It was the one thing she could never drink too much of. She’d give up alcohol, water, soda, and every other form of liquid before she gave up milk. “It’s budget season for both Franklin and Sawyer, and somehow, I’ve gotten the reputation that this is my schtick, so everyone happily dumps it in my lap. I’ve pointed out numerous times that I went to school for graphic arts, not accounting, but because I don’t faint dead away at the sight of a spreadsheet, everyone thinks I’m some sort of financial genius.”

  “You’ve always been good at numbers, dear,” her mom said mildly as she washed up in the sink. At least she was now clean up to her elbows, although her hair and clothes were going to need a lot more help. “You got that from your father, of course. After he passed, having to do the household bank account…” She sighed and shook her head. “That was a disaster, waiting to happen.”

  That was a disaster that had happened, but Penny said nothing. It was typical for her mom to ignore what was, and instead focus on what she wanted to believe, and Penny had long ago resigned herself to that truthitude.

  As a kid, she’d just assumed that her mother knew what she was doing. What kid wouldn’t? It wasn’t until high school, when she started spotting LAST NOTICE in bright red ink across multiple bills in the mail that she started to ask questions. It’d taken her years to help her mom dig her way out of that mountain of debt. She’d come within a hair breadths of losing the house; she had lost her new car.

  Yup, that’d been a verifiable, horrendous, overwhelming mess of a disaster all right. Penny wondered for a moment what it would be like to have a mother who was more like a mother and less like an unreliable 16-year-old friend, but then shrugged the thought away. Her mother was who she was, and no amount of wishing would change her. If wishing could change her mom, Wanda Roth would’ve had a personality transplant a long time ago.

  “When are you going to bring that boy of yours over so I can meet him?” Mom asked, leaning against the opposite counter as she finished off the last of her glass of milk. “The talk around town is that he’s quite the looker.”

  “You know he is,” Penny pointed out with a none-too-subtle roll of the eyes. “You’ve liked the pics I’ve posted of the two of us on Facebook. You’ve commented on those pics. You can’t pretend you didn’t see them.”

  “But, that’s only his face,” her mom protested. “For all I know, he’s missing a leg and three fingers from a car bomb explosion.”

  “Car bomb…?” Penny didn’t know whether to laugh or cry over that one. “He’s never been in the military, Mom. I promise you, he’s in possession of all of his body parts.”

  “Well, I just won’t know that for sure until I meet him,” Mom said firmly. “Tomorrow afternoon? He can come over and we can watch the baseball game together. But,” she held up a warning finger, “if he’s a Yankees fan, well then, he can go back home and we can pretend like this never happened. You’ll just have to start all over again.”

  “I’ll be sure to inform him of that,” Penny said dryly.

  “Oh, don’t tell him!” her mom said seriously. “He might pretend to be a Dodgers fan just to make a good impression. You can’t let him know what’s riding on this.”

  “Yes, Mom,” Penny agreed dutifully, trying not to laugh. She loved her mom dearly, but there were days that her baseball obsession was a little out of control. She didn’t even know if Troy watched baseball. It wasn’t nearly as big in Idaho as, say, football was. It was a uniquely Wanda Roth obsession, as far as Penny could tell. “I’m going to head out, now that I’ve eaten all your food and drunk all your milk.” She went to press a kiss to her mom’s cheek but made it an air kiss instead when she spotted the cobweb clinging to her mom’s cheekbone. “I’ll talk to Troy about tomorrow, promise.”

  “Tell him I make great tailgating food,” Mom said, trailing her as they walked to the door. “No need to go to a baseball stadium – the beer is cold and the snacks are awesome here.”

  “I’ll tell him all about it,” Penny promised.

  “But not which team to cheer for,” her mom reminded her.

  “I would never dream of it,” Penny said solemnly, and closed the door behind her before she let the grin break out across her face. Her mom was something else. The important part was that she looked healthy. Other than the dusting of…well, dust across her face and hair, she had a healthy glow, a spring in her step, a sparkle in her eye. At least for today, she was still okay. Penny felt the weight ease off her chest.

  Someday, she was going to stop worrying and hovering over her mom. Today wasn’t that day, and honestly, tomorrow wasn’t looking good, either.

  She drove across town to the slums of Franklin – luckily, in a small town in Idaho, “slums” was a relative term and her neighborhood was certainly nothing like what a soul would find in the slums of Chicago or something – and pulled up in front of her rundown apartment complex. Before she even got out of the car, she pulled out her cell phone and texted Troy. She knew better than to call him; unless she was on fire, she knew Troy would only want to text.

  I’m off work. Got any plans for tonight?

  She stepped out of her car and swung her purse over her shoulder. First order of business – change into a shorter pair of heels. Her feet had had enough of the three inchers for the day.

  Wanted to show you something. Wear comfy shoes; no skirt. Be there in 20.

  She laughed a little at that. No skirt? she texted back. All right, but I’m going to scandalize the neighbors.

  She unlocked her front door and began slipping out of her work clothes. There was a long pause with no answer from Troy, and then just an emoji showed up on her lock screen: