Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 3 (80 page)

“Would you like to come in?” Nate asked, again clasping her elbow as though he feared she might crumple onto the pavement.

Without answering, she accompanied him up the walkway to the steps.

“I do my best to keep the place neat, but you have to
remember I'm a guy and housekeeping is low on my priority list.”

“I'll remember,” she said, managing a glimmer of a smile.

The house wasn't in bad shape. A few newspapers and magazines were scattered about but the sink was empty of dirty dishes and the living room free of clutter. The furniture, large and dark, wasn't anything she would've purchased, but it would suffice.

“Let me show you the extra bedroom,” Nate said, steering her down the long hallway. He chuckled.

“What?” she asked, curious about what he found so amusing.

“I promised there'd be nothing romantic between us, and the first thing I do is take you to the bedroom.” He shook his head. “Sorry, the irony was too much for me.”

Rachel laughed softly. “I guess it does sound rather…compromising.”

The room he showed her was pretty basic. It might have been a hotel room for all the personality it revealed. A bed, a dresser and a nightstand were the only furniture. There wasn't a picture on the wall or any indication that someone else had once occupied the room. The bedspread looked worn and was probably one Bob had purchased years before.

“Like I said, it's nothing fancy.”

“Where's your bedroom?” she asked, noting the number of doors leading off the hallway.

“Upstairs. Both of the other bedrooms are.”

That meant it wasn't likely they'd run into each other in the middle of the night, which made her feel a little less guilty about the prospect of deceiving her husband.

“So,” he said, leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed, “what do you think?”

“I…” She paused. Again, she imagined what Bruce would say if he found out where she was living. That would definitely complicate an already complicated situation. But then, as Nate had said, she didn't need to tell Bruce the whole truth—at least, not right away. He only had to be told one thing: that she was safe.

“You really are a good friend, aren't you?” She meant that. She believed in his genuineness, even though he'd been hurt by her choice of Bruce over him.

He grinned. “Anything for you, Rachel, you know that.”

“All right, I'll do it. You've got yourself a housemate—but on one condition.”

“Sure.”

She met his eyes. “You can't tell anyone I'm living here.
No one,
okay?”

Frowning, Nate rubbed his chin. “Since it's Bob's house I can't keep it a secret from him, and I feel I should say something to Emily, but I can ask them not to mention it to anyone else.”

“Fine, you can tell Bob and Emily, as long as they're willing to be discreet.”

“I'll make that clear. But who do you expect me—or them—to tell?” he asked.

“Your friends. Or their friends. You'd be amazed at how quickly word gets around in Cedar Cove. You might casually mention it to one of your navy buddies and that person might know Bruce and an hour later my husband will show up on the doorstep. Bruce isn't an aggressive or violent man, but he wouldn't take kindly to the two of us sharing a house.”

“Okay, deal.” Nate extended his hand.

“I'll keep my end of the bargain, as well,” she prom
ised, shaking his hand. “I'll do my best to be a good housemate. I'll pay my rent on time and—”

“I wasn't worried about it, Rachel,” he broke in. “I guess you can't tell Teri, can you?”

Now, that was going to be painful. Rachel told Teri everything. She was her closest friend and had been for years. But Nate was right; she couldn't leak a word of this to anyone, not even Teri. Bruce would certainly ask her, and Rachel couldn't risk the chance that Teri would accidentally divulge the information. What she didn't know, she couldn't share.

“No, I don't think I will,” she said. Hard as that would be, it was necessary.

Two

W
hen the alarm rang at the Cedar Cove firehouse, Mack and his fellow firefighters jumped into action. The address was relayed as he leaped onto the fire truck, and the familiarity of it struck him immediately, although he didn't have time to think about it. Not until the truck, lights flashing and sirens blaring, turned onto Eagle Crest Avenue did he realize the house belonged to Ben and Charlotte Rhodes. Mack had visited there often, taking his daughter, Noelle, to see her grandparents. The smoke billowing out of the house came from the back, where the kitchen was located.

Mack and the two other firefighters pulled out the hose, all of them supporting it, and raced toward the house. The fire engine carried five hundred gallons of water, which enabled them to get water onto the fire without the delay of hooking up to a hydrant. A second truck would arrive within minutes and those firefighters would engage the closest hydrant.

Mack's heart pounded as he ran toward the rear of the house carrying the bulky hose. Already he could hear the second siren in the distance.

Ben and Charlotte, plus several of their neighbors,
stood out on the sidewalk staring at the scene. Charlotte wore the horrified look of a woman who couldn't believe what was happening. Ben stood next to her, his arm protectively around her shoulders. He seemed equally shaken.

Because he was busy working on the fire, Mack didn't get a chance to talk to the elderly couple until the blaze was extinguished, which took only minutes. Thankfully the damage seemed to be confined to the kitchen.

The fire squad commander spoke to Ben while Charlotte wrung her hands. She seemed so distraught and anxious that Mack approached, hoping to reassure them all was well.

“Oh, Mack, I'm so grateful you're here,” Charlotte said, her eyes brimming with tears, which threatened to spill at any moment.

“Everything's fine,” he told her in a soothing voice. “The fire's out.”

“This is all my fault,” she cried. “I'm sure I must have done something. Oh, why wasn't I more careful? I get so easily distracted these days….”

“The cause of the fire hasn't been determined,” Mack said, trying to be diplomatic, although he suspected she was right. “Any number of things could be the cause.” With a house of this age, electrical problems weren't uncommon.

“But
I
was the one in the kitchen,” Charlotte said in a small voice.

“It could've been an electrical short,” Mack said, hoping to calm her. He'd just finished speaking when a car pulled up on the other side of the street and Olivia Griffin got out. She wore a suit and heels and had obviously just left the courthouse, where she was a judge.

“Mom, Mom!” she called as she dashed across the street, barely watching for oncoming traffic.

Charlotte turned and hurried toward her daughter. They hugged fiercely for a minute, clinging to each other.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, yes,” Charlotte assured her, tears slipping down her pale cheeks.

“What about Harry?”

Mack hadn't seen the family cat and he'd been too busy to remember Charlotte and Ben's pet.

“Ben got him out of the house,” Charlotte explained. She glanced around as if unsure where he was currently hiding. “Oh, poor Harry, he must be terrified. He doesn't usually go outside, you know….” Her voice faded.

Mack's experience with the cat was limited. Whenever he, Mary Jo and Noelle visited, Harry made it clear that he was willing to tolerate them, but no more than that. After accepting the respectful greetings he considered his due, he generally ignored them all and retreated to his accustomed place on the back of the sofa. His other favorite perch was the windowsill overlooking the front yard. Harry was probably hiding somewhere, under the porch or maybe in some bushes. If the cat didn't show up soon, he'd help with the search.

The squad commander seemed to be finished speaking to Ben, who now joined the circle. “Mack,” the older man said, looking flustered. His white hair, normally carefully groomed, was in disarray, as if he'd rammed his fingers through it repeatedly. “Thank you,” he said, his voice husky, “for looking after Charlotte.”

Mack didn't feel he'd done anything out of the ordinary.

“Mack, what about the damage to the house?” Olivia asked him.

“That's being assessed,” he replied, “but there doesn't appear to be any damage to rooms other than the kitchen.”

“I'm so grateful you got here when you did,” Charlotte murmured.

“Mom. Ben.” Will Jefferson, her son, hoofed it up the last part of the steep street and across the lawn. Apparently he'd run from the Harbor Street Art Gallery, where he lived and worked. It was only a few blocks away, but unfortunately they were all straight uphill.

“Everything's okay,” Olivia told him. “Mom, Ben and Harry got out in time.”

“Thank God.” Will leaned over and placed his hands on his knees, wheezing as he attempted to catch his breath. “I didn't know what to think when you called,” he said to Olivia.

“Mrs. Johnson left me a message at the courthouse,” Olivia told their mother, “and then I phoned Will.”

“I hope I didn't upset you too much,” the next-door neighbor said, her brow furrowed. She stood a few feet away. “I saw the fire and phoned it in, but Ben had already taken care of that. Then I thought if it was my house I'd want my children to know what was going on, so I called the courthouse. I do hope that was the right thing to do.”

“It certainly was,” Olivia said fervently. “Don't ever hesitate to contact me in regard to Mom and Ben. About
anything,
” she emphasized.

“Me, too,” Will chimed in.

“Oh, yes,” Charlotte echoed, reaching for her daughter's arm. “I feel much better now that my children are here.”

“What happened?” Will asked, still a little breathless. He glanced from Ben to Mack and back to Ben.

“I'm not sure,” Ben said, turning to Charlotte.

“I made lunch the way I always do—chicken noodle soup, which was on simmer—and then Ben and I sat down. We were reading when Ben said he smelled smoke.”

Ben nodded in agreement.

“I didn't smell anything, so I didn't worry about it. My new cooking magazine arrived today and they had twenty-eight recipes on how to use zucchini and I was absorbed in that. Then all of a sudden Ben threw down his book and let out a yell.”

“Yes,” Ben said, picking up the tale. “I saw flames.”

“Thank goodness Ben can deal with a crisis because I panicked. My first thought was that we needed to put out the fire ourselves, but by then the kitchen drapes were in flames, and it was…just too much.”

Mack cringed since trying to handle the fire themselves was one of the biggest mistakes homeowners made.

“One look told me it was already more than either of us could deal with,” Ben continued, “so I got Charlotte and Harry out of the house and used my cell phone to call 9-1-1.”

Mack was grateful that Ben had remained calm. Too many people stayed inside the home to contact 9-1-1, putting themselves at greater risk. “You did the best possible thing,” he said. “The first action to take is
always
to get everyone out of the house, then call the fire department.”

“What happens next?” Olivia asked, directing the question to Mack.

“The fire department will investigate the cause,” he told them.

“When will the investigator get here?” Ben asked, standing close to Charlotte.

“Usually within a couple of hours,” Mack told them.

“What about the Crock-Pot?” Charlotte said suddenly, clutching Ben's arm. “I had tonight's dinner in it. Should we try to find it in this mess?”

“Mom, I think dinner is the least of your problems,” Will inserted. “I'd assume the Crock-Pot's a lost cause.”

Mack couldn't remember seeing it, but his attention had been focused on putting out the fire.

“What can you tell me about dealing with the insurance people?” Ben asked, looking at Mack. “Will they get in touch with us or will I need to call them?”

“You'll need to notify them.”

“The contact information is inside the house,” Ben muttered.

“Do you have the same carrier as you do for your car insurance?”

“Yes.”

“Then the phone number should be on your insurance card.” Washington state law required carrying proof of insurance when driving, so either Ben had the insurance card in his wallet or in the car's glove compartment.

“Of course.” Ben grimaced. “I guess I'm more rattled than I thought.”

“It's understandable,” Mack said. He glanced over his shoulder to be sure he wasn't needed elsewhere and noticed that Andrew McHale, the fire investigator, had arrived. Before he could point him out, Andrew disappeared around the back of the house.

“How long will it be before we can go back in the house?” Charlotte asked. “I do hope everyone will be gone by five—that's when Ben likes to watch
Judge Judy.
”

“Mom,” Olivia said, gently patting her mother's hand. “You won't be able to go back in the house. The kitchen's
going to need a complete overhaul. It might be several weeks before the house is livable again.”

“We can't go back in the house?” she asked in confusion. “For several weeks? Why not?”

Mack realized that Charlotte hadn't taken in what Olivia was saying.

“The kitchen's been destroyed,” Will said, speaking slowly and clearly.

“I know that, dear, but the
rest
of the house is fine.”

“Still, you can't live there until the damage to the kitchen has been repaired.”

“But…” Charlotte turned to Ben as if asking him to plead her case.