Home Fires (5 page)

And the neighborhood gossips were already at it, fast and furious. Rose took in the gathering crowd of curious onlookers drawn by the sirens and lure of possible danger. News traveled fast in this town. Even her mother, stuck in her hospital bed, probably would know the full scoop within the hour. Rose cringed at the thought of the maternal recriminations sure to follow.

Somewhere in the crowd a dog barked, whining and straining against his owner’s leash. The animal’s yelp brought a rush of fear surging through Rose’s heart. Bozo! Her mother’s aging Red Persian was strictly an indoor cat and still inside, trapped. Anxiously she scanned the second and third stories of their hundred-year-old house. Who knew where that damn cat could be hiding? No access through the kitchen. She gave the front porch a wary eye. There’d be less smoke—hopefully no smoke—if she went in that way. She had to try. Her mother would be frantic if anything happened to her precious Bozo. Rose swallowed down a cold taste of fear and started toward the front steps.

“Whoa!” A strong arm yanked her away from the house. The rumble of a deep male voice held her captive. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Rose looked up into familiar blue eyes. Dressed in full turnout gear of dirty yellow fire coat and pants with big black scuffed boots on his feet, he looked more like a battle-scarred veteran than the conquering hero. His eyes were like magnets, pulling her in, holding her close. For a moment she forgot her purpose. Why
had
she been headed into the house?

“My mother’s cat.” Sanity returned, quickly as it had departed. “He’s inside the house.”

“You stay where you are. We’ll find the cat.” Turning, he headed for the back porch and took the steps two at a time. He yanked open the kitchen door. Smoke rolled out the entrance as he disappeared inside.

“Cecilia Rose? What’s going on?” The Judge stomped across the side lawn, still in his black suit. “What happened?”

What
had
happened? Rose cringed at the memory of the screeching alarm and her hasty exit out the back door. She shuddered in the Judge’s arms as thoughts of the smoke-filled kitchen clouded her mind. Smoke was a swirling monster, worse than any flames. She hated smoke—blinding, choking, suffocating. No wonder she’d panicked and forgotten Bozo.

The fireman reappeared moments later on the back porch. His hands, clad in thick gloves, held the charred remains of the tea kettle melted fast to the element.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to replace this,” he said as he clomped down the steps. “It’s not much good to you now.”

“I was boiling some water.” She cringed. The truth sounded lame. “I wanted a cup of tea. Then I sat down and… I guess I fell asleep.”

“Better get yourself a whistling tea kettle. It’s better than hearing a smoke alarm.” His stern warning was curt but his eyes were framed by wrinkles of well-grooved laugh lines.

Was he making fun of her? Rose felt the blush climbing her cheeks. But if he was teasing, she had only herself to blame. Her forgetfulness had given him license to do exactly that.

She flashed him a quick smile. “Thank you for coming to my rescue again. I can’t believe I did something so stupid.”

Better that she said it first, leveled at herself, than to have him thinking it, silently or aloud.

“About the cat…” His eyes were intense as he looked at her.

Oh, God, Bozo was dead. She swallowed down a rush of panic. How would she explain his unfortunate demise to her mother?

I was too scared to think. I ran from the smoke.

“I did my best, but I couldn’t catch him. That cat wants nothing to do with me. He’s running all over the house meowing something fierce—I think he’s telling me to get lost.”

Rose gave a weak, shaky laugh. Bozo was safe. Thanks to the fireman, they had all survived.

The Judge’s arm tightened around her shoulders. “You’ll stay next door with me tonight, my dear. Give the house a chance to air out.”

“What about Bozo?” Rose hesitated. The Judge had a long-running feud with their cat.

“He’ll be all right. The fire’s out and we opened up the kitchen windows,” the fireman said. “You should go through the house and open the rest of the windows. Things will be aired out by morning.”

A quick pressure on her arm caught Rose’s attention.

“Stay right where you are, my dear,” the Judge said. “I’m going back to my house to change, but I’ll be back in a few minutes. Then I intend to take the two of us out to dinner.”

“Call if you have any more problems,” the fireman said as the Judge disappeared across the lush green lawn. “You have my number.”

Rose frowned. She didn’t remember exchanging phone numbers with him. “I think you’re mistaken. I don’t know how to reach you.”

“Sure you do.” He pulled off the scuffed white helmet and ran a hand through his hair, eyes sparkling bright. “911.”

“Wait,” she called out to the tall, receding figure as he headed for the fire truck. “In case I do call, who do I ask for? I don’t even know your name.”

“The name’s Mike,” he said. He stashed his gear in the truck and opened the driver’s door. “Michael John Gallagher.”

CHAPTER THREE

WEATHER WISE

____________________________________

The James Bay Journal

____________________________________

WEATHER ADVISORY:
Hot, dry conditions throughout our area have prompted the Department of Natural Resources to issue an advisory for extreme fire danger. The threat of potential grass fires will continue until the current drought is relieved. The efforts of all James Bay citizens are needed to keep our community safe. Be vigilant and help prevent fires!

____________________________________

Chuck’s Tavern and Grill was hot and crowded. Some faces were familiar, others not.

“Guess I’ve been away too long. I hardly recognize anybody in town anymore.” Rose gave the Judge a weary smile as the waitress disappeared with their menus. James Bay in the summertime had its share of pleasures as well as drawbacks. For the ten blissful, beautiful weeks comprising most of June, July, and August, locals surrendered control of their town, as well as the restaurants, shops, and beaches.

“You already know the people who count.” The Judge took a careful sip of his beer. His suit and tie from earlier were gone and his ample girth now sported an open-collared shirt paired with a navy blue blazer and slacks.

“I thought you were a martini man,” she said with a thoughtful nod toward his frosted glass.

“It’s true I love my martinis.” The Judge took another sip of his drink. “But there’s quite a bit about me you don’t know, my dear. And now you’re all grown up, I suppose it’s time I let you in on some of my little secrets.”

Rose smiled. “Secrets? Since when do you have secrets?”

“Don’t we all?” The Judge matched her smile with a beguiling one of his own. “As for me, I enjoy a good beer now and then, especially on a hot day like this.”

She chuckled softly. “You drink beer instead of martinis? Some secret.”

His smile broadened as he leaned forward across the table. “Here’s another for you, then. When you’re dining at Chuck’s Tavern, always order a beer. Creating a perfect martini is a true work of art. Unfortunately, our friend Chuck never attended that particular art school.” He raised his glass in deference to Chuck, short sleeved and crew cut, hard at work behind the bar.

Rose followed his toast with a smile. Chuck’s Tavern and Grill was a local establishment forged in the hearts of locals and resorters alike. Its Friday night all-you-can-eat fish fries bordered on legendary. She sat back in her chair and sipped her ice water, stifling a yawn. A nice quiet dinner, then home to bed for some much needed sleep were the only items on her evening agenda. It had been a long day, first with the anxious wait through her mother’s surgery, only to be followed by that unfortunate mishap in the kitchen. And while it hadn’t been a fully engulfed fire, the downstairs rooms in her mother’s house still reeked of smoke.

Thinking of the kitchen fire turned her thoughts to something—and someone—else. How ironic was it that the fireman with those magnetic blue eyes should have the identical name as her own father… right down to sharing the middle name of
John
. Then again,
Gallagher
was a common enough last name, at least up north. Rose settled deeper in her seat. A mere coincidence, that’s all it was. An unsettling coincidence.

A smile curled around her lips. What would Michael John Gallagher have to say about the coincidence when he found out?

“Maybe I haven’t changed, but you certainly have,” the Judge said. “You are a far cry from that little girl with dirty knees and pigtails I remember scuffling around in my backyard.”

Rose ignored the slight tug at her heart. “That little girl is long gone. She grew up and went to law school.”

“Speaking of law, how are things at the firm?”

“Firmly in place,” she replied in a slaphappy voice, mimicking how she felt. Slaphappy, punchy, and sleepy, too. She struggled to keep her eyelids from drooping.

“You’ve done us all proud, my dear. If your father was still alive, I know he would be extremely pleased.”

Even through the heavy fatigue, the rare compliment registered. Her old friend wasn’t given to paying forms of false flattery. “Thank you, Judge.”

Idle thoughts of a tall man with burnished blond hair and sparkling blue eyes returned to mind. What about that fireman? What would he think if he learned she was an attorney with a high-profile firm? He was completely different than the men she dealt with in her everyday world.
The suits
. Prancing lawyers with polished shoes and expensive wardrobes, roaming the carpeted corridors of the firm, gleefully choreographing testimony at scheduled depositions, hovering in the hallways of the Kent County courthouse. How long had it been since anyone remotely attractive and available had waltzed into her world? There had been offers, especially from Andy, but no man—a suit or otherwise—remotely sparked her interest.

Was this all there was left to her in the dating game?

Michael John Gallagher definitely wasn’t a suit.

Forget that idea. They had nothing in common. What would they talk about? She was well-versed in legal jargon, but she’d forgotten how to carry on a decent social conversation with the opposite sex. She’d probably forgotten how to flirt anymore.

More important, did she want to?

Her clients, the firm, and never-ending community commitments stole every ounce of available energy. How could you expect to successfully master the dating game when each night brought you home exhausted and wishing for nothing more stimulating than a quick dinner; fragrant, hot bath; fresh sheets on the bed?

She didn’t need a man to be happy. She’d settle for a good night’s sleep.

“I have a question for you, my dear. What would you say about coming back to James Bay?”

Rose forced her attention back to the man in front of her. “But I am back. At least for the next six weeks.”

“You misunderstood.” He sat back in his chair, sharp black eyes trained upon her with precision. “I’m talking about you coming home and setting up law practice with me.”

Rose nearly choked on her ice water. The Judge couldn’t be serious. Was he actually suggesting she come back to live and practice law in James Bay?

“I know we’ve never discussed the matter, but I’m sure you will agree the idea has some merit.”

“The two of us as partners?” She must be more tired than she’d imagined. Even when Jeff was alive, the two of them had never discussed the possibility of partnership with his father. Back then, with the Judge still sitting on the bench, the three of them setting up practice together had been a nonissue. And truth be told, that hadn’t been such a bad thing, either. While she loved Jeff’s father, the Judge had an uncanny knack for managing schemes that benefited him and a way of finagling exactly what he wanted.

And if I’m hearing him correctly, what he wants is me. But why me? And why now? He knows how I feel about this town. More than anyone else, he should understand.

“Yes, my dear, you and I as partners in a firm. That is exactly what I am proposing.”

Partnering with Jeff’s father. The thought sent a shiver snaking up her spine. Rose cast an uneasy glance across the table at the man with silvered hair and beguiling smile. The Judge was part of her past and her present. With the offer he’d just made, he could play a significant role in her future, too.

“Think of it, Cecilia Rose.” He leaned closer across the table. “I have a large practice, but real-estate matters are taking up more and more of my time and I find myself in a position where I am no longer able to do justice to some of my other clients. I need help, my dear. I need you.”

How was she supposed to respond? The Judge was nearly as dear to her as her own father. Plus he had helped finance her legal education. She was in his debt. But returning to James Bay to live and partner with him had never been part of the plan.

Or had it? Maybe he’d had the idea in mind all along, but hadn’t planned to call in his markers until now.

“I wouldn’t presume to ask you for a decision tonight.” The Judge’s face wore a tacit expression of quiet understanding. “I merely wanted to present the subject. I’ve been thinking about this for quite some time. And now, I believe it is time for you to think about it, too.”

Clerking for her firm had been meant merely as a summertime job, but their offer following graduation had been too good to turn down. Admission to the Bar had gained her a position as associate attorney. There was a sense of security within the corporate ranks. Working for the firm provided a convenient out. There was no need for further explanation—to her family, friends, or even to herself. Jeff’s death had seen the end of their dreams. There’d be no more talk of
when we grow up
. All that was left to her now was
what used to be
.