Hearts on Fire

by Julia Gabriel

  “I don’t think he comes home much,” her sister said.

  “He doesn’t,” their mother agreed. “Angie says his job in California is very demanding.”

  Becca didn’t mention that Jack wasn’t the lawyer everyone thought he was. That news was given to her in confidence, and she wouldn’t betray that. Besides, she had no idea what he actually did in California for a living. Maybe whatever job he did have was very demanding. He hadn’t confided that much to her. Why would he?

  “Well, he’s all grown up now,” Cassidy said.

  Becca snorted. “Says the person who is all of two years older.”

  “You two should probably leave Jack alone.” Michelle’s stride slowed as they approached the Jenks building. “I doubt he’s in the right headspace for romance at the moment.”

  “Who said anything about romance?” Cassidy laughed. Their mother rolled her eyes.

  “Romance with whom?”

  Becca was surprised to see Tamara Rossi waiting by the door. Then she noticed the oversized key ring swinging from her fingers. And Tamara’s rather professional outfit—a sleeveless dress, heeled pumps, and a chunky silver necklace. Tamara was the real estate agent.

  “Becca, I heard a rumor that you were back in town.”

  Tamara took a step toward her like she was about to hug her, then stopped. Becca wasn’t sure whether she should be glad for the aborted hug, or dismayed. Tamara and Becca had been good friends in middle school and high school. Maybe even closer to best friends, at least on Becca’s end. But she had cut off contact with Tamara, too, when she left St. Caroline. She hadn’t wanted to, but Tamara was the type of person who couldn’t keep a secret to save her life. Since then, she and Becca had run into each other occasionally when Becca was back home for family events, but the friendship wasn’t there anymore.

  It had pained Becca to lose Tamara as a friend. Lord knew, she had few enough friends to begin with. It was a steep price to pay for protecting Jack Wolfe’s future, but she’d had to pay it. And it paid off—Jack had a life in California. So he wasn’t a lawyer, but he had some other type of career. Maybe he worked in advertising or computer programming. Maybe he had started some cool tech company and was now a billionaire. That would explain Cassidy’s interest in him. Even as a teenager, Cassidy always had a sixth sense for which boys hanging out at the marina were the scions of wealthy summer families. No one local had ever been good enough for her to date.

  “Romance with Jack Wolfe,” Cassidy answered Tamara’s question, putting air quotes around “romance.” “Have you seen him since he’s come home? We just ran into him at Skipjack’s.”

  “Tell me about it. I heard Becca was practically the first person to see him.”

  Tamara winked theatrically at Becca. Becca felt her mother’s hand on the small of her back, a gesture meant to calm and warn at the same time. No worries. Becca was already used to everyone she met bringing up the fire. Just good-natured ribbing. And in three, two, one …

  “I should set my house on fire so the Wolfe brothers will come rescue me.”

  Becca smiled at this line, even though it was probably the thirtieth time she’d heard it in the past week.

  “Ladies? Shall we?” Becca’s mother gestured toward the door of the Jenks building, a note of impatience creeping into her voice.

  “Sorry, Michelle. Becca and I will catch up later.” Tamara turned to insert the key into the door, but not before catching Becca’s surprised expression.

  “What?”

  Becca shook her head. “It’s just strange hearing you call my mother by her first name.”

  “Excuse me. Mrs. Trevor.”

  Tamara pushed open the door and stepped aside to let Michelle and Cassidy enter first. She leaned into Becca’s ear as she passed.

  “Seriously though. Were you wearing, like, a skimpy nightie when they rescued you?”

  Becca swatted at her in jest. Half in jest, anyway.

  Inside, the building was quiet and dim. Becca squinted to see better, while her mother flipped a light switch in vain.

  “Power’s still turned off,” Michelle said.

  Becca looked around the large room. An empty pastry case stood at one end. A few small tables and chairs were scattered about. Becca wondered why the previous business owners hadn’t taken those with them. Dust motes floated in the sunlight coming through the large front window. It looked abandoned, and sad. She had a hard time visualizing Quilt Therapy in here, the shelves of bright fabrics, the boisterous energy of the staff and customers. The old location had been small, but it was happy. Becca didn’t get a good vibe with this place.

  “What was in here last?” she turned to Tamara. “A bakery?”

  “Cupcake shop.”

  “You’re kidding. How could that go out of business?”

  “Divorce.”

  She took a deep breath of dusty air. “This building really is cursed.”

  “I don’t think your parents are going to get divorced,” Tamara replied.

  “No, we’re not,” Michelle said from across the room, where she had pulled out a tape measure. Next to her, Cassidy was tapping measurements into a tablet.

  “So what’s wrong with this place then?” Becca asked Tamara, suddenly suspicious of her old friend’s motives. Sure, steer the desperate business owner into the building that puts every business under. In the middle of the summer, her mother didn’t have much choice about where she relocated Quilt Therapy. Not if she wanted to reopen immediately. A wave of protectiveness welled up in Becca.

  Tamara shrugged. “Nothing is wrong with it.” Her voice was defensive. “The cupcake shop was doing fine until the owners’ marriage fell apart. It would still be here if not for that, and I’d be showing you guys locations outside town instead.”

  “Becca!” Cassidy was beckoning to her. “Come with us. You need to see the space upstairs.”

  Becca followed her mother and sister up the staircase to the second floor.

  “What do you think?” Her sister swept her arm in a flourish at the spacious room before them.

  Becca’s eyes nearly bugged out at the size of the room—and the sunlight flooding in through the windows. “This would be perfect for classes.”

  “I know, right?” her sister agreed.

  Becca walked over to the long window-lined wall. “We could put a cutting counter along here. In the old room, people had to wait in line to cut fabric for their projects.” She turned back to the interior of the room. “And we could fit probably three times as many tables in here.”

  Her mother glanced away from her conversation with Tamara and caught Becca’s eye. She smiled.

  “I mean, you could fit more tables,” Becca corrected herself.

  For a minute there, she was back in high school. Growing up, each of the Trevor girls had played different roles in the quilt shop. Cassidy was a marketer at heart, with a sixth sense for how to display new products and lay out the store. Natalie was the fabric whisperer, always able to pinpoint just the right color or print for a customer’s project. Becca had felt most at home in Quilt Therapy’s small classroom, sitting down with women twice her age and showing them how to line up their points or sew on a binding or explain the pros and cons of different types of batting.

  But she wasn’t in high school anymore, and Cassidy and Natalie were the ones who had stuck around to help their mother with the shop. Becca was just passing through for the summer, the only one who didn’t have her life on track.

  “Hey Becca? We’re heading back down.” Her mother stood at the head of the staircase with Cassidy and Tamara.

  Becca hurried across the room to join them. But just before taking the first step down, she turned back to the room—picturing it filled with women (and a few brave men) sitting at sewing machines, learning to transform fabric and thread into something greater than the sum of its parts. Maybe this would be the right location for Quilt Therapy, after all. Maybe the building was waiting for the right busin
ess to come along.

  Chapter 8

  The sounds of the party beginning below drifted up to Becca’s room. She had worked the lunch shift at Skipjack’s, then spent the afternoon washing and ironing the yards and yards of fabric women had been dropping off at the house all week. When her mother put out a request for donations to make a new fire quilt, Quilt Therapy’s customers came through with flying colors. Now she was sorting the lengths of fabric by color and print size, her fingers itching to get started.

  But today was the day of her parents’ anniversary party and, from the sounds of it, people were arriving. Eighties music was playing from the speakers on the deck, and the aroma of burgers and chicken on the grill made her stomach growl.

  “Hey there.”

  She turned to see Charlotte standing in the doorway, wearing a cute green and yellow print dress and flip flops. Charlotte walked into the room and flipped through the stacks of fabric.

  “I’ll help you with this. You don’t have to do it all yourself.” Charlotte touched Becca’s arm. “I know how much you love this kind of piecing.”

  “Thanks. Even if you could do, oh say, four or five hundred triangles that would help.” The two sisters laughed. “I’m guessing you were sent to retrieve me?”

  “Something like that.”

  Becca looked down at the shorts and sleeveless shirt she wore. “I’ll be down as soon as I change.”

  “You look fine.”

  “Next to you? Please.” Becca pulled a skirt, still on its hanger, from the shallow closet. “I got paid yesterday so I bought an outfit.” And put the rest of her paycheck right into the bank, into the insurance deductible fund. “Natalie’s been loaning me shorts and shirts, but her dressier clothes really aren’t my style lol.”

  “They’re not anyone’s style.” Charlotte headed for the hallway. “I’ll see you downstairs then.”

  Becca quickly changed into her new skirt—solid black, for versatility—and a new pale green blouse. She pulled her hair from its ponytail and shook it out. Her reddish hair looked nice against green. Then she reconsidered and pulled it back again. It was hot outside where the party was being held and there was no need for her to look attractive for anyone in St. Caroline. But reasonably pulled together? Yes, it might be nice for people to see her as slightly more mature than she used to be.

  Downstairs on the deck, she grabbed a can of ginger ale from a cooler and looked around. Cassidy’s rolling laugh caught her attention. Her sister was standing close to Jack Wolfe and laughing right along with her. Images of Cassidy and Jack together ran through her mind, the way a dying person sees flashbacks to their life. Cassidy and Jack married. Cassidy and Jack with kids. Cassidy and Jack at family occasions. How awkward would that be? All of a sudden, she felt certain that Cassidy and Jack would end up dating that summer. Jack had been gone from St. Caroline long enough that her sister probably no longer considered him to be a local. Not to mention, on the walk back from looking at the Jenks Building with Tamara, Cassidy hadn’t been able to shut up about how great he looked now.

  “Hi there, Becca.”

  Jack’s brother, Matt, had snuck up on her. Although who could tell with Cassidy? If she didn’t consider Matt Wolfe handsome enough to bother with—and he’d been here in town the whole time—maybe her sister really was impossibly picky. By any standards, Matt was an excellent example of the male form. Muscular and fit thanks to a childhood of sports and a job that required stamina and strength. His dark hair looked about a week past time for a trim, but a man like Matt could get away with that. It made him look like he was a man who didn’t need to care quite so much about the way he looked. Becca doubted he did. In high school, he’d had all the prettiest girls practically on a string behind him. Why would things be any different now?

  “Hi.”

  “You look nice.”

  Becca felt her face flame as he gave her the once-over. “Thanks.”

  “Better than the other week.” He winked at her.

  She laughed weakly. Did he really just wink at her? Was he making fun of her?

  “Yeah. Thanks for rescuing me.”

  “It’s just part of the job, rescuing pretty women from burning buildings.”

  “Umm, yeah.” Becca had never been any good at flirting and Matt’s high voltage smile was making it even harder to speak coherently. “How’s your mom feeling today?”

  “Good. She’s around here somewhere.”

  Becca nodded, trying to clear the fog swirling in her brain. He had very pretty eyes, green one minute and gold the next. “If she gets tired, she can lie down inside. Just let me know.”

  “Thanks. I’ll do that. How long are you in town for?”

  He wanted to continue this conversation? “My parents want me to stay for the summer.” She grimaced. “The least I can do is help get the shop open again.”

  “Dad said you signed a lease on the old Jenks building. That’s a good spot.”

  “Here’s hoping quilts are more popular than cupcakes.” She rolled her eyes and lifted her soda can in a mock toast. He tapped it with his beer bottle.

  Then it hit her. Of course. Why hadn’t she seen it coming? Matt was coming on to her because he thought she’d be an easy lay. Jack probably told him about the graduation party. Yeah sure, Becca Trevor, she’ll sleep with anyone. Which wasn’t true. Had never been true, but it was what everyone believed. Her heart sunk. As a teenager, it hadn’t occurred to her that her parents were familiar with her reputation. But of course, they must be. Michelle and Dan Trevor were smart people. Knew everyone in St. Caroline, too. Of course, they knew their adopted daughter was rumored to be the town bicycle. Everyone’s had a ride.

  Jack leaned down to kiss his mother’s papery cheek. “What do you need?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. She had texted him, requesting that he come over to where she sat on a blanket in the shade of a giant maple tree. “Are you getting tired?”

  “I’m fine, Jackie.”

  “Do you want to go inside where it’s cooler?”

  “No. I’m inside all the time. Plus, I don’t want to miss the party.”

  His heart felt like someone had just turned it inside out. She was going to miss a lot of parties.

  “I want you to go rescue Becca from your brother’s clutches.”

  She nodded in the direction of the deck, where Matt was blatantly putting the moves on Becca. Jack had taken note of it earlier and ignored the hum of annoyance in his chest. Matt and Becca were not his responsibility. Still, the two of them together was a bad idea—not least of which was because their parents were friends. The Trevors might not take kindly to Matt wooing and then dumping their daughter.

  “Tell her I’d like to speak with her.”

  “You’re not angry about the fire quilt, are you?”

  His mother rolled her eyes. “I’m not angry about anything these days, sweetheart.”

  “Cassidy said she’s making a new one.”

  “Michelle mentioned that, as well. No, I want to talk to her about something else.”

  He waited for his mother to elaborate, but she simply waved her hand at him.

  “Go, before your brother wears out his welcome.”

  Jack trudged toward the deck. Wearing out his welcome wasn’t usually an issue for his brother when it came to members of the opposite sex. He clapped his hand harder than necessary across Matt’s shoulder blades.

  “Hi Becca. My mom wants to speak to you.” He ignored the irritation on Matt’s face.

  “About what?” Matt demanded, clearly not willing to cede the floor just yet.

  Jack just shrugged. “She didn’t say.”

  Becca looked relieved as she hurried off.

  “Thanks.” Matt moved out from beneath the weight of his younger brother’s hand.

  “Hey, don’t blame me. Mom wants to see her.”

  “I was making progress, man.”

  “Just don’t. You’ll create bad blood between mom and dad and
the Trevors.”

  “Maybe they want to marry her off. You don’t know.”

  Jack resisted the urge to shove his brother off the deck. It was too low to the ground to cause him any bodily harm, anyway. “Somehow I don’t see you as the person they’d be looking for. You wouldn’t know an honorable intention if it bit you in the ass.”

  Matt fixed a look of mock injury on his face. “Fine. The Trevors have plenty of other daughters.” His brother shoved his empty beer bottle into Jack’s hand. “Find the recycling.”

  He watched as his brother strolled over to a large metal bin filled with ice and beer. He plucked out two bottles and went in search of his next prey. Whatever. Jack felt way more comfortable with Matt hitting on Cassidy. Becca had already been done wrong by one Wolfe brother. Whatever she’d done in Ohio to send her fleeing home couldn’t be bad enough to warrant a second.

  Chapter 9

  Becca hung back at the edge of the maple tree’s canopy to wait for the women sitting next to Angela Wolfe to finish their conversation with her. She tried not to eavesdrop but Ann Jeter’s voice was too loud to ignore. They were discussing the baby that Oliver, the oldest Wolfe son, and his wife were expecting. It was a girl, apparently.

  “Well, that’ll be nice,” Ann said. “Two boys and now a girl.”

  “We need some girls in this family,” Angela laughed weakly. “I had all boys and it looked like Oliver was headed the same way.”

  Becca wanted to slink away, unnoticed. The baby she gave birth to had been a girl. Angela already had a granddaughter, one she would never know thanks to Becca. She started to back away but her movement caught Angela’s eye.

  “Becca. There you are. Can you ladies excuse us?” She fluttered her arm at Becca, then patted a spot on the blanket next to her. “Do you need a chair? I can get Oliver to bring over a chair.”

  “No. I’m fine.” Becca sat down. “If you need to go inside …” She let her voice trail off. She didn’t need to say that to Angela Wolfe, who was close enough to the Trevor family to go in and out of their home at will.