Putting Out Old Flames

by Allyson Charles

  Which was a good thing. It was best for kids to have their two parents together. Placing her palm over her abdomen, she willed her intestines to stop twisting. The apple pie sat in there like a lead ball.

  “. . . don’t you think, Jane?” her mother asked.

  “What?”

  Edith shook her head. “Your chakras are still all messed up. I said, what about the front foyer of city hall?”

  “For the ball?” Jane asked. Her mother nodded. “It’s not a big enough space. And there’s only that one unisex bathroom. That would lead to problems.”

  “Okay.” Edith raised her hands. “One reason was enough.”

  Judge Nichols brushed some crumbs off of his short-sleeved button-down shirt. Even though his clothes were hidden under a black cloak when he worked, he always wore pressed shirts and trousers underneath, the creases so sharp they looked lethal. No casual Fridays for this judge. “I was talking to the owner of Great Lakes Winery about their gift package for our auction. Jim over there mentioned their new cave. He said his daughter is going to hold her wedding reception there. If it’s nice enough for a wedding, it should be nice enough for our ball.”

  “The Great Lakes Winery?” Jane had only been there once, when it had first opened. The grounds had been lovely, green fields with wildflowers next to the grapevines, a manicured area for bocce ball and croquet. But the actual tasting room had been tiny. But if they’d expanded...

  “I’ll check it out,” she said. Next to her, Chance coughed. Rolling her eyes, she said, “We’ll check it out.” Jane lowered her voice. “Happy?” she asked him.

  “Ecstatic,” he replied, his voice as dry as Great Lakes Syrah. “But if I’d been along when you’d first looked at the Regency, I would have seen they were overdue for inspection. We wouldn’t have wasted time assuming we would hold the event there.”

  “I’m sure the winery will love it if you go in there and act as a fire inspector.” Jane tapped her fork against her plate. “They’ll be just thrilled to offer us the space.”

  He leaned in close, his breath brushing across the side of her neck. The airy caress sent tingles all through her body. “I don’t care if they like it or not. I’m not going to hold a function, especially one for the fire department, if the place isn’t up to code.”

  Jane leaned back in her chair, needing to create some space before her body combusted. “I used to be the one who was a stickler for rules. What happened to you?”

  He raised an eyebrow, looked thoughtful. “I became a father and a firefighter. Rules are important for both.” Turning in his seat, he crossed one leg over the other. “What about you? When did Janey-girl learn to color outside the lines?”

  She looked around the table. Now that a plan had been put in place, everyone was chatting and finishing up their desserts. Her mother nodded her head at Chance, then winked at Jane. Frowning, she scooted as far away from Chance as her chair allowed. She didn’t want her mom to get the wrong idea.

  “Jane?” he asked.

  “I usually follow the rules.” She took a sip of her iced tea. “But if no one gets hurt, I don’t see the harm in doing what works best.”

  Chance smiled, and her heart stutter-stopped. He should be required to register that smile as a lethal weapon. “Your mom must be so proud.”

  A laugh burst out of Jane. “She still tries to press herbal remedies on me for my control issues, as she calls it.” Jane smiled at her mom fondly.

  Resting his arm on the back of her chair, he lowered his voice. “You and your mom. You’re happy here?”

  She knew what he was really asking. “Yes, I’m happy.” His arm against her shoulder blades was warm. Solid. She eased away. “Getting dumped by my high school boyfriend didn’t ruin my life.”

  Chuckling, he shrugged sheepishly. “Of course. I didn’t mean . . .”

  Jane thought he was too embarrassed to continue. But when his arm tensed behind her, she followed his gaze to the front door of the restaurant. Annette stood at the entrance, her gaze searching. Her eyes landed on Chance, and she made her way over. The belted wrap dress she wore clung to her slim curves, the strappy stilettos with their blood-red soles click-clacking across the linoleum.

  “There you are.” She stopped beside Chance, ignoring the rest of the table. “Your coworkers said you might be here.”

  “You stopped by the firehouse?” He stood and frowned down at Annette. “What did you say to them?”

  “Just that your wife was looking for you.” She bared her teeth. “They were ever so helpful.”

  “Great. Let’s go outside.”

  Annette finally deigned to notice the rest of the table, every other conversation falling silent. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends, Chance?”

  He took her elbow. “No.”

  Shaking out of his grip, Annette put both hands on the back of his chair and leaned forward. “Hi, everyone. I’m Annette. Chance’s wife.” At the collective inhale of air, she smiled. “Soon to be the ex–Mrs. McGovern, so you all can keep your panties on. Chance can still be a part of the bachelor auction.” She shot her husband a malicious grin. “The boys at the fire station filled me in on that, too. Wish I could see it.”

  “It’s in two weeks if you’re still in town,” Jane said. Chance was so clearly uncomfortable with Annette there that Jane felt almost friendly toward the woman. It was easier to keep poking at Chance than to analyze everything he stirred up in her. More fun, too.

  “Jane, isn’t it?” Annette asked. “You just keep popping up everywhere.” Jane’s warm feelings toward the woman turned tepid at the sarcasm in her voice. “You good friends with my husband?”

  Jane didn’t miss the innuendo, and she didn’t particularly care for it.

  Neither did her mother. From the end of the table, Edith said, “Chance and Jane have known each other forever. I caught that boy sneaking in her window more times than I could count.” In the subtle game of one-upmanship, Edith obviously thought she’d scored a zinger. Crossing her legs, she waved a hand in dismissal.

  “In her bedroom?” A furrow creased Annette’s forehead before her mouth fell slack. “Oh my God. You’re that Jane.”

  “Annette.” The warning in Chance’s voice was unmistakable.

  His soon-to-be ex ignored it. “Is this why you came to this Podunk town? To be with her?”

  “Uh . . .” Eyes wide, Jane wanted to shut this, whatever this was, down fast. “We just ran into each other a couple weeks ago. If he’d known I was here he probably would have chosen another town to settle in.” The truth of that statement dug a little crater in her heart. She might never have seen Chance again if the Pineville FD hadn’t been hiring.

  “Oh, I doubt that.” Annette shook Chance’s hand off her elbow. “An opportunity to reunite with his one true love? My husband wouldn’t miss that for the world.”

  * * *

  Hands gripping the steering wheel, Chance risked a glance at the woman in his passenger seat. Jane’s lips were still pressed into a hard line as she sat, elbow up on the window, head resting in her palm, radiating pissed-off.

  Which he didn’t get. Just because Annette ran her mouth off and said some stupid shit, he didn’t understand what Jane had to be angry about. Still, he was happy enough that their trip to the winery included a detour to pick up Josh. She couldn’t tear him a new one if he had his kid with him, right?

  The silence in the SUV was oppressive. Tugging at the neck of his shirt, he shot her another look. “I never told Annette you were the ‘love of my life.’” He snorted, but it came out sounding like the snuffling of a dying pig rather than the derisive exclamation he’d intended. “The few times your name came up, I might have said you were my first love. She misunderstood.”

  Annette had always seemed to have an attitude about his former girlfriend. Her snide little retorts had never failed to both irritate and bewilder Chance. For the first time he questioned his part in her petty jealousy. Had he mentioned
Jane more than he should have? Jane had been such an integral part of his young life that any childhood story he told would of course include her.

  Continuing to face front, she shrugged. “I really don’t care what your wife”—at his growl she held up a hand—“your soon-to-be ex-wife has to say. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “Right.” He nodded, feeling like a bobblehead. “Of course.” Then why did she look as though it mattered? Jane held herself as stiff as a board. Blowing out a deep breath, Chance gave up. He’d never understand women.

  Silence descended again. He beat his thumbs against the steering wheel until her narrowed gaze stopped it.

  “So.” He cleared his throat. “Josh shouldn’t be a problem. I told him if he’s a good boy today we’ll have pizza tonight. Unfortunately, bribery is my most reliable parenting tool.”

  “I told you, it’s fine.”

  Chance waited a beat. “Katie has a doctor’s appointment so she can’t watch him.”

  Jane finally looked over. He wished she hadn’t, not if she was going to purse up her pretty lips like she’d just tasted day-old fish. “Yeah, I got that the first time you said it.”

  Chance’s shoulders slumped with relief when he turned onto his street. If there was anyone who could relieve awkward silences, it was his son.

  Josh stood on the front porch, bouncing up and down in his red sneakers. Warmth spread through Chance’s chest, just like every time he saw his son. The kid was just so damn cute. When he wasn’t driving Chance nuts.

  He pulled into his driveway, and Josh raced to the SUV, a small pack slapping against his back. Stepping out of the car, Chance grabbed Josh in a bear hug. “Hey there, buddy. How’s it going?”

  “Aunt Katie made me grill cheese for lunch, and we builded a moat for my castle, and . . .” Josh chattered away as Chance strapped him into his car seat.

  Testing the belts, Chance said, “Can you take a breath and say hello to Jane?”

  “Hi, Jane,” Josh said. Like a rocket, he was off again, describing his day, minute by minute.

  She raised her eyebrows and smiled at Chance. “Hi, kiddo.”

  Josh didn’t hear her. Chance shut the back door, enjoyed a moment of silence before getting in the SUV, and waved goodbye to his sister at the front door. Settling himself behind the wheel, he wondered if perhaps he’d been too hasty in wanting to escape the awkward silence with Jane.

  “Buddy, why don’t you show Jane your new action figure?” Chance looked in the rearview mirror, watching his son root around in his backpack.

  Jane leaned over to him. “I don’t need to see—” she whispered, then broke into a big smile when Josh shoved a green turtle-man between the seats. “Hey. That’s cool.”

  “Yeah, he is.” Josh ran the figure over the seats and up onto the window, making kung fu fighting sounds in his imaginary battle.

  “And that’s why I told him to show you his toy,” Chance said in a low voice. “That should keep him occupied for a good ten minutes.” It kept Josh occupied the entire drive to the winery, about twenty minutes outside of town. The rows of vines bordering the dirt drive came as a surprise to Chance. He knew a winery must grow grapes, but it seemed out of place in Michigan.

  “I wonder how good the wine can be here.” Chance parked next to another car in front of a small building designed like an Italian-style villa. “This isn’t exactly prime wine country.”

  Jane hopped out of the SUV. “We have two wineries in the area. The chamber of commerce says if we get two more, they’re going to declare a wine trail.” She looked down, eyes wide, when Josh grabbed her hand. “And the merlot is very good. You can grow grapes anywhere now.”

  Chance took his son’s other hand and Josh immediately started swinging between the two of them. He was too big for it, his knees nearly scraping the ground when he dropped to hang between the two adults. But Jane held her own, hefting her half of Josh’s weight with little problem.

  “I didn’t mean to sound like a wine snob,” he said. “But I lived near Napa. I know what type of climate is good for grapes.” They passed under a lattice archway blanketed with bougainvillea. He stopped for a moment to let his eyes adjust to the tasting room’s dim light.

  A woman behind a reclaimed-wood bar smiled warmly at them. “Hi, folks. You here for a tasting?” A man and woman stood across from her, noses deep in bulbous wineglasses.

  Jane stepped forward, bringing Josh and Chance along with her. “We’d like to speak to someone about possibly renting out your new cave for an event. Are you the manager?”

  “I wish.” The petite blonde gave the couple a generous pour. “I could do a much better job at it than the owner.”

  “I heard that!” a disembodied voice bellowed from a back room.

  The woman grinned.

  A half-open door behind the bar banged open, and a large man filled the opening. “Hi. I’m Jim. Can I help you?” Tugging at the polo shirt stretched tight across his round stomach, he rounded the counter and stretched out a hand. “Did I hear that you have an event coming up?”

  “Yes.” Jane shook his hand. “We’re organizing the Pineville Fire Department’s charity ball and we’re in a bit of a bind. Our location fell through, and Judge Nichols said you had a space big enough to hold your daughter’s wedding. Congratulations on that, by the way.”

  Jim gave her a proud smile. Thirty seconds later, he and Jane were huddled over his smartphone, oohing and aahing over his daughter’s engagement photos. Chance shook his head. Jane just had a way about her, got everyone to open up.

  Josh tugged on his hand. “Daddy, can I have it?”

  An automatic no rose to Chance’s lips, and he looked where his son pointed. A basket of rubber chickens in a rainbow of colors had caught Josh’s eye. Chance walked over and picked one up. It was odd, even for a tasting room gift shop.

  “That’s one of our biggest sellers,” Jim said. He strode over to Chance and flipped the bird over. “It’s a corkscrew. You turn the chicken’s head and the screw comes out of his . . .” He shot a glance at Josh. “Well, you know, and the wings act as the levers. Pretty fun, right?”

  Chance murmured an agreement, hiding his chuckle at Jane’s horrified look. If this chicken was Jim’s style, Chance didn’t hold out much hope that the cave would be nice enough to hold their ball.

  But a couple of minutes later, Chance was surprised. The room wasn’t technically a cave, but a lower level dug into the side of the hill. One long wall was floor-to-ceiling glass, giving the room plenty of natural light. The concrete floor was painted to look like slate, and the exposed wood beams of the ceiling were draped in strands of white lights. Wine barrels dominated the large space.

  “For events, we roll most of the barrels into the storeroom, but keep some for character,” Jim said. “It can hold up to two hundred and fifty people, twenty-five ten-person tables, and along that wall is space for a stage.”

  “Is two-fifty the permitted capacity?” Chance ignored Jane’s eye roll.

  “It is.” Jim flipped a switch and recessed lighting in the dark wood walls gave the room a warm glow. “And of course we have a wine and liquor license.”

  Josh tugged on Jane’s hand and whispered something in her ear when she bent down. He knew his son’s hair would darken with age, but right now it was closer to Jane’s whiskey-colored hair than his own. They looked like a matched set. Rubbing a knuckle across his chest, Chance turned back to Jim and asked a couple more questions.

  Jane straightened. “Josh needs to go to the bathroom. Is there one down here?”

  Jim nodded. “But the grout is still drying on the floor tiles. Both restrooms will be ready for business in a day or two, in plenty of time for your event. But for now, you can use the one up the stairs off the tasting room.”

  Chance held out a hand. “I’ll take him.”

  “I want Jane,” Josh said. He pulled her forward a couple of steps before she regained her balance.

  “Bud
dy, it’s not Jane’s job to—”

  “It’s okay. I can take him.” Jane led Josh to the staircase. “You finish up here with Jim. Be sure to ask about his rates. And Jim”—she paused and shot the owner a sweet smile—“remember, it’s for a good cause.”

  Jim watched the two climb the stairs, his brows drawn together. “I’m donating a basket for the auction worth two hundred dollars. I’m happy to give you a good rate, but I can’t just donate the space. I don’t want you to think I’m not civic minded.”

  Smothering a grin, Chance nodded solemnly. Jane’s comment had clearly put the poor man on the defensive. “Women. Nothing’s ever enough.” He clapped a hand on Jim’s shoulder and peppered him with questions and compliments on the winery until the man’s good humor was restored.

  After shaking hands on the deal, he emailed Jeremy with the new location so the volunteer could update their website and notify the ticket holders of the different address. Then Chance went looking for Jane and his son. He found them outside playing bocce ball, smudges of dirt marking their cheeks. Jane tipped her head back and laughed at something his son said, sunlight reflecting off her hair.

  Satisfaction pooled low in his gut. Seeing the two of them together just seemed . . . right. They looked so natural together, like they fit. Like they were family.

  Rubbing a hand up and down the back of his head, Chance blew out a disgusted breath. Just because his marriage had failed didn’t mean he should start seeing substitutes wherever he looked. Jane squatted, grabbed Josh around the waist, and promptly fell over onto her butt. Josh squealed, and Jane burst out laughing.

  Chance strode over to them, wanting in on the fun. He couldn’t help but think that Annette had never gotten dirty with their son. She wasn’t a bad mother, gambling addiction aside, but she wasn’t the kind of mother Chance wanted for his son, either. No sharing milk and cookies and stories after kindergarten for Annette.

  “Hey. Who’s winning?” he asked, taking Jane’s hand and helping her to her feet.

  “I am!” Josh picked up the hard ball and chucked it shot-put style. It bounced across the sand until it butted up against the lawn.