Читать книгу Safe in the Fireman's Arms - Tina Radcliffe - Страница 12
ОглавлениеMaggie was wedged under the sink in the back room when the shop’s front door opened. Now what? From the street the echoing rumble of the Paradise Volunteer Fire Department’s pump engine could be heard as it finally departed.
She blew strands of hair out of her eyes and gave the pipe wrench a quick turn. Only early afternoon, yet she was more than ready to call it a day before anything else happened. The steely look Jake had given her as he assessed the smoldering remains of her uncle’s ancient and battered Ford engine was enough to keep her praying for the Lord’s protection and assistance to stay out of trouble and out of Jake’s way, at least until the Founder’s Day supper.
Apparently Jake was so fit to be tied he sent another fireman, Duffy McKenna, to fill out the report. Fine with her. Redheaded Duffy had a face full of freckles. He was sweet and he kept her laughing. Of course he wasn’t as...well, as three-dimensional as Jake. In fact all the firemen were nice, and understanding. The only one glaring at her was the chief. It seemed that the word accident wasn’t in his vocabulary.
“Hello?” a voice called out.
“Coming,” Maggie returned.
She wiggled out from beneath the drain pipes and stood up, straightening her clothes as she approached the front counter. A dark-haired teenager stood straight and tall. His bright blue eyes, magnified behind black-framed glasses, darted around the room as he wiped his hands on his jeans. The kid seemed to be all arms and legs. An earbud was hidden beneath his black curls, and the other end of the cord dangled around his neck. A wrinkled, once-white T-shirt hung on his lank body. He adjusted his glasses and stared at a point beyond her right shoulder.
“Beck Hollander, I presume.”
He nodded.
“Maggie Jones.”
Silence.
“You help part-time in the shop.”
Another nod.
“My uncle has gone fishing for a few weeks. Perhaps you’d prefer to wait until he returns.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to be a bad influence. I am currently persona non grata with the PVFD.”
Beck cleared his throat. “I heard.”
“Heard? Heard what?” She grasped her ponytail and gave it a sharp pull, yanking the loose hair back into order.
“You burned a truck.”
Maggie grimaced and wrapped her hands around the neck of the blender she had been working on prior to the fire drama earlier in the day. She concentrated on tightly winding the cord around the base.
“That’s not exactly what happened, though I suppose the details don’t matter, do they? Let’s talk about you.”
He said nothing.
Undeterred, Maggie pasted a smile on her face. “Senior?”
Short nod.
This was worse than the blind dates her parents had set her up with. If she’d learned anything from those disastrous experiences with scholarly types who were inflicted upon her with her parents’ high hopes of a future academic progeny, it was that open-ended questions were the ticket.
“What are your plans after high school?”
“College.”
She sighed, and continued, refusing to be defeated. “Major?”
“Engineering.”
Ah. Gotcha, you little brainiac.
“Biomedical, civil, environmental, electrical, computer, mechanical, energy?”
“Electrical and computer engineering.”
“Great. I double majored in agronomics and earth science at UC Davis. Recently finished my doctorate.”
His jaw slackened. “You don’t look like...”
“What? A smart girl?”
Beck’s face turned solid red from his neck to the tips of his ears, which peeked out from his mop of hair. “I, uh...sorry.”
Maggie laughed. “Please, I’m flattered. Most people don’t think I look like a professor, either.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “You’re a professor?”
“Was. Physical science. I’m currently between jobs. And to be clear, I’m an assistant professor.”
“Why teaching, when you could...” He gestured with a wave of a skinny arm.
“Oh, you know. Sometimes it’s easier to go along to get along. Ironically, as it turns out, I like teaching.” Maggie lowered her voice. “But I’ll tell you a secret, someday I’m going to open my own nursery. I’m thinking about my own line of honey. Organic lavender, too.” She shrugged. “I don’t know how or when, but someday.”
A smile spread on the kid’s narrow face.
Yes! The barrier had been breached.
“So, anything in particular I need to know about your hours, Beck?”
He shook his head.
“What do you do around here?” Maggie asked.
“I handle most of the computerized repairs. Before your uncle left I rewired the shop’s security alarm system. Now it can be set remotely.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Bob, uh, Mr. Jones isn’t into digital stuff.”
“So, do you get a lot of computerized repairs in Paradise?”
“No, but we get a lot of people stopping by for computer help.”
“Uncle Bob dispenses computer advice?”
“No. I do. Mr. Jones doesn’t even have a computer.”
Maggie laughed. “Now that sounds like Uncle Bob. So, do you charge for this advice?”
“No. It’s free. I’m like a tutor.”
“A tutor? I like that. Maybe we can share the workload.”
Beck grinned. “Sure. Yeah.”
“How many hours are you working in the summer?”
“Three or four hours a day. Four days a week. I’m taking a few online classes, as well.”
“All right. Works for me. I’m closing up shop here shortly.” She met his gaze. “I’ve got an appointment Thursday around eleven. Think you could come in then and cover for me for a few hours?”
“Sure.”
“And we can talk some more, maybe work on your schedule?” she added.
His eyes lit up. “Yeah. That’d be sweet.”
“Sweet it is.” Maggie stuck out her hand. “So I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah.” He shook her hand. “Thanks, Ms. Jones.”
“Maggie. Just Maggie.”
“Um, Maggie?”
“Yes?”
He adjusted his glasses with his thumb and forefinger. “Chief MacLaughlin was wrong.”
“Excuse me?”
“The 2003 Ford F-150 was recalled for suspected engine fires caused by a cruise control switch.”
Maggie’s mouth opened as his words sank in. “What?”
“Apparently, the problem is that the brake fluid leaks through the cruise control’s deactivation switch into the system’s electrical components, leading to corrosion and producing a buildup of electrical current that causes overheating and, in your case, fire.”
“You know this, how?”
He shrugged. “I read a lot.
“You read a lot,” she murmured. Suddenly his words clicked. “So it’s not my fault?”
“Nope.”
This time she smiled.
“I, uh, just thought you should know.”
Vindication!
Her elation was short-lived as she realized she was the designated adult in this conversation.
“Thank you, Beck. I appreciate that. More than you know.” She took a deep breath. “However, let’s not be too hard on the chief. He’s doing his job, and keeping everyone in Paradise safe certainly can’t be easy.”
Beck nodded yet again, and then looked at his sneakers.
“Was there something else?” she asked.
“Yeah. There’s an opening at the high school.”
“An opening? For what?”
He barely met her gaze. “Science teacher. I heard my dad talking about it last night. Mrs. Janson is going on maternity leave early. I thought maybe you might be interested.”
Maggie’s heart soared. She swallowed. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. My dad is the principal.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll tell him to call you,” he added with a small smile, before he loped out of the shop.
“Yes. Please. Do that.” Maggie was still staring after him, minutes later.
A job in Paradise?
Why not? Her credentials were impeccable. Of course, she’d have to be extremely careful from now on. No more accidental fires. Low profile. That was the ticket.
Mustn’t get your hopes up, Margaret. The voice of her mother—the eternal pessimist—whispered in Maggie’s ear.
“You’re wrong, Mom. This job is mine. The Lord brought me to Paradise and He’s not going to leave me sitting outside the Promised Land.”
Maggie smiled and lifted her hand in a high five.
“Thank You, Lord.”
* * *
Jake gripped the keys to his pickup tightly in his hand as he stood on the bottom step of Maggie’s house. Bright red ceramic pots were arranged on her small porch with small painted signs identifying the plants—lemon thyme, cinnamon basil, chocolate mint and pineapple sage. He shook his head. He’d never even heard of half the stuff she’d planted.
Overhead the sky rumbled a warning that a storm was imminent. Undeterred, Jake walked up the steps and pushed the doorbell.
The teal-blue door of the cottage swung open and Maggie stared at him from behind the screen.
“I have it on good authority that it wasn’t my fault,” she announced.
“Hi, to you, too, Maggie.”
Her cheeks flushed and she crossed her arms.
Jake glanced past her into the sparsely decorated living room. “Nice house. I presume your smoke detectors are in place and the batteries are up-to-date.”
“Presume away.”
“Maggie.”
“They’re fine. I checked everything when I moved in.”
“Thank you.”
“To what do I owe the honor of this visit, Chief MacLaughlin? Or do you routinely make smoke-detector house calls?”
“I’m following up to make sure you’re okay.” He frowned. “And I thought we were on a first-name basis?”
“So this is an official visit from the chief of the Paradise Volunteer Fire Department regarding the incident at 1233 Central Avenue?” She began to shut the door. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
“Maggie.”
The door stopped moving. “I told you, it wasn’t my fault.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes. Beck said so.”
“Beck said so?”
“Something about a manufacturer recall due to known fire-related problems.”
“Great, but I’m not blaming you.”
“No?”
“No. May I come in?”
She averted her gaze. “That doesn’t seem like a wise move to me.”
Jake paused, realization dawning. “Are you afraid of me, Maggie?”
She opened her mouth and closed it. Then the screen door opened and Maggie stepped out onto the small porch as though eager to prove him wrong.
“I know you’re really here to read me the riot act and I’d rather you did it out here, if you don’t mind.”
He met her gaze head-on. She didn’t even blink as he towered over her and her ponytail. The woman was gutsy. He’d give her that.
Jake dialed down his menacing facade. It wasn’t working anyhow.
“This is serious, Maggie.”
She rubbed her arms against a sudden breeze that kicked up, bringing with it the scent of the pine trees surrounding the house.
“What exactly is serious?” she asked.
“When you smelled smoke you should have gotten out of the vehicle and called 9-1-1.”
“I did call 9-1-1.”
“After you raised the hood.”
Her eyes rounded. “Who told you?”
“Who didn’t?”
Maggie shook her head in disgust. “It was only an electrical fire.”
“One out of seven fires involves vehicles. One out of ten fire deaths results from vehicle fires,” Jake said.
“You memorized those stats?”
“It’s my job.”
“Fair enough, but I’m telling you it was barely a fire. Barely. Tiny flame. Very tiny.
“And yet you needed a fire extinguisher.”
“Well. Um, yes.”
“Where’d you get the fire extinguisher?”
“Your father gave it to me.”
“My father?”
“Tall man. Silver hair.”
“I know who my father is. In fact his house is right down the street a couple of blocks.”
“Well, your father dropped the extinguisher off after the, um, first, um, incident. Said it was a ‘welcome to Paradise’ gift, since I’d extinguished the other one. Apparently all the MacLaughlins have a dark sense of humor.”
Jake ignored the comment and made a mental note to talk to his father about meddling in his life. Again. “So are we clear?” he asked. “Next time call 9-1-1 immediately and move away from the vehicle.”
She gave a solemn nod. “I can assure you that there won’t be a next time.”
“Yeah. Let’s hope you’re right.” He cleared his throat, grasping for a reason to keep chatting, knowing he was being off-the-wall ridiculous. He had things to do at home. Right? Feed the dog. Throw in a load of laundry. Yet, here he stood.
“Sorry about your truck,” he said. “It’s a complete write-off. You’ll need to call the insurance company.”
“It’s not mine. It’s Uncle Bob’s shop truck.” Maggie sighed. “Fortunately, I have a perfectly good bicycle that my aunt and uncle have kept for me since my last visit.”
“Your last visit? When was that?”
“I was thirteen.”
“Thirteen?” He stared at her. “You don’t own a vehicle?”
“I left my car in Denver. It belongs to my parents. So you can see that the chances of another engine fire are pretty much nil.”
“How did you get to Paradise?” he asked.
“Cab.”
“You’re joking, right? A cab all the way from Denver? That’s like three and a half hours.”
She stood straight and balled her small hands into fists. “Look, for your information, I was in a bit of rush when I left and there aren’t any buses to Paradise.”
“Whoa there. No need to get all excited.”
Maggie released a breath and continued to stare him down.
“Are you in some kind of trouble?” he murmured.
Her cheeks flushed. She chewed on a ragged thumbnail and glanced around. “No. Of course not.”
“You’re sure? You can tell me, you know.”
Maggie began to laugh. “What are you saying? You won’t think any less of me if I confide that I’m a convict on the lam? Gee, thanks. Chief.”
Somehow her laugh didn’t quite ring true.
“I guess you’re entitled to your secrets,” he returned.
“I don’t have any secrets. My life is an open, albeit very short, book. A novella at best.”
Overhead thunder clapped.
Maggie jumped. She glanced at the sky and then looked toward the gutters on the cottage. “Too bad. I was hoping to get a permit to install a rainwater-harvesting system before it rained.”
“Oh, there will be plenty more rain days in the valley.” He paused. “A permit, huh? That sounds like someone who’s thinking about sticking around.”
She pondered his words for a moment. “Maybe.”
Suddenly the sky opened up, releasing giant drops that quickly turned into a deluge.
“I better get going.” Jake tossed his keys into the air.
Maggie touched his arm, and he glanced down, surprised to see her delicate hand on his sleeve.
“This is a downpour, Jake. Can’t you wait until it eases up?”
His brows rose at the concern on her face. “Are you worried about me?”
“I’m speaking as a soil professional. It’s very dangerous to drive through a downpour in a region indigenous to flash flooding and mudslides.” Her soft brown eyes pleaded with him. “And I know from experience that you don’t do dangerous, Chief MacLaughlin,” she murmured.
Jack met her unwavering gaze. She was right on both counts. Standing this close to Maggie, surrounded by an intimate curtain of rain, was dangerous all right. Much too dangerous.
He lifted the collar of his shirt. “I’ll be fine,” he said as he stepped from the porch and straight into the cooling rain.
* * *
“Chuck, I’m telling you the woman is hiding something.”
The black-and-white collie-shepherd mix opted not to answer, nor did he look up from the metal bowl, where his nose was buried in his dinner.
“We’re going to have to ask Sheriff Lawson to run a background check on Maggie Jones. And while Sam is checking, we’ll do a little online search of our own, as well.”
Chuck finally looked up, his black eyes round and questioning.
“Oh, don’t give me that. It’s just a simple precaution. She took a cab from Denver, Chuck. Who does that?”
Rain continued to tap at the window as Jake stirred the simmering Buffalo chili and then replaced the lid on the pot and turned down the flame. He grabbed a sponge and wiped down the stainless steel stove top before sliding cornbread muffins into the oven and setting the timer.
Almost time to eat. It would have been nice to share dinner with someone besides his dog.
For a moment his mind flitted back to Maggie. He quickly dismissed the concerned expression he’d seen on her face as he left her house.
Long ago, he’d resolved himself to being alone. Once a month his solitary life was interrupted when he met his men at the firehouse for training and they put together a meal. Occasionally his father dropped in unannounced, too. Oddly enough, Mack hadn’t done much of that in the last few months.
A loud rhythmic series of raps on the back door signaled tonight was one of those visits from his father. Jake smiled as Chuck raced to the door and shoved his whiskers into the screen, whining.
“Jacob,” his father called as he pushed the door open. “Quite a storm out there. Hope it stops before the weekend.” He shrugged off his yellow rain slicker and ran a hand through his damp hair.
“Hey, Dad. You smelled the chili all the way from your place, huh?”
“Are you cooking?” Mack leaned down and gave Chuck a rubdown. “Yeah, boy, I’ve missed you, too.”
“There’s chili in the pot.”
Mack stood and looked around. “Oh, I guess you are. But that’s not why I’m here. I want to run something by you.”
“Sure. Have a seat and maybe Chuck and I can help you with your problem.”
