Christmas in July

by Debbie Mason

  “Try the River Walk. Saw her down by the water when I went for a run this morning,” Sawyer said, waving him behind the bar. “It’ll be faster to go through the back.”

  Ten minutes later, Jack reached the end of the planked walkway. From where he leaned against the rail, he took in the empty bench under the lamppost and the gazebo to the right of the weeping willow. No sign of Maria. And in her white dress, she’d be easy to spot. Jack figured it was a lost cause and headed for the shortcut to the park. As he dug his cell from his jeans pocket to call her, it rang.

  He checked caller ID. Sawyer. “Hey, I can’t—”

  “Jack, there’s a fire at the bakery.”

  * * *

  Pushing down the panic and fear before it closed off his airway, Jack raced toward the park. When he reached Main Street, he smelled the smoke and shoved past the small groups of people huddled in their pajamas on the sidewalk.

  He thanked God when he caught sight of old man Murray standing in front of the lane with little Jack. Sirens blared in the distance as Jack jogged the last few yards toward them. His relief at seeing his son safe in the old man’s arms faded at the panic on Murray’s face.

  “Grace, she’s in there. I tried to stop her. She hasn’t…” The old man began in a strangled voice.

  Jack ran down the smoke-filled lane before Murray finished what he was about to say: She hasn’t come out. He blocked out the words, same as he did his son crying for his mother.

  “Grace,” Jack yelled, as he rounded the side of the building. The heat of the fire and smoke burned his eyes even before he flung open the back door. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he said at the sight of his wife, standing in one of his T-shirts and a pair of pink slippers, with a fire extinguisher in her hand.

  “I’m trying to save the bakery. Help me, I can’t get this to work.” She pushed her matted hair from her soot-covered face, shoving the extinguisher at him. With a quick visual sweep, he took in the flames that engulfed the stove and licked across the ceiling, spreading to the counter. “We’re getting out of here. Now,” he said as he grabbed her hand. “The fire department’s on the way.”

  “It’ll be too late. I…” She let out a small shriek and ducked at the sound of several loud pops. Flames shot up from the garbage can on the opposite wall.

  Sawyer came through the door. “Holy hell.”

  Jack tossed the extinguisher to him and grabbed Grace around the waist. “No, let me go,” she said, pushing his hands away.

  “Stop it, Grace,” he said, dragging her toward the door. She fought him every inch of the way, and damned if she wasn’t a lot stronger than he’d given her credit for. He turned, bent down, and threw her over his shoulder.

  “Put me down.” She pounded his back as he jogged up the lane after Sawyer. “You don’t care if it burns to the ground, do you?”

  “No, I don’t. The only thing I care about is you,” he said, setting her in front of him once they were a safe distance from the building. He closed his hands over her shoulders and gave her a small shake. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  “That I could put the fire out before it destroys everything.” She flung her arm at the extinguisher Sawyer carried. “And I would have if I could’ve made that thing work.”

  “I’ll get Grace a blanket,” Sawyer said.

  Jack nodded and returned his attention to his wife. “The fire’s out of control.” And he was about to lose his. “There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

  “The lad’s right,” Patrick Murray said as he limped toward them. “That was a damn fool thing you did running in there like that.”

  “You don’t understand. None of you understand.” She swiped at her eyes and reached for little Jack.

  “Mama owie,” he whimpered, touching her cheek.

  “I’m all right, baby,” she responded with a forced smile.

  She was, and some of the fear that had been fueling Jack’s frustration and anger diminished. Siren screaming, the fire truck turned onto Main Street. He put his arm around Grace, drawing her close. “Look, they’re here now. Everything’s going to be all right,” he said, as the truck pulled up to the curb, the flashing lights illuminating the lane and Grace’s tear-streaked face.

  “No, it won’t,” she said, but the fight went out of her. She sagged against him, turning her head to watch the black smoke billowing from the bakery, the static pop and hiss of the flames audible from where they stood.

  The firefighters jumped out of the truck and began attaching the hose to the hydrant. Gage, who’d been handling crowd control across the street, signaled for his deputy to take over and jogged toward them. “Let’s move down the sidewalk a ways,” he suggested, giving Grace’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “You okay?”

  “No.” She gave a brittle laugh. “I’m not okay, Gage. Everything I worked for, everything I own, is going up in flames.”

  Before Gage could respond, Jack intervened. “We were in there a couple of minutes ago, princess, and the fire was contained in the kitchen.” He hoped it still was because it’d been moving terrifyingly fast. But he had to say something positive before she lost it. “The apartment will be fine.”

  Sawyer caught the last of the conversation as he rejoined them, draping a blanket over Grace’s shoulders. “Jack’s right. The building’s up to code. Fire walls will do their job.”

  “Do you have any idea how it started, Grace?” Gage asked.

  She stroked their son’s head while staring at the bakery. “Little Jack got out of his crib. When I went to put him back to bed, I smelled smoke. The window was open.”

  Gage frowned. “Smoke detector didn’t go off?”

  “No. I don’t think so. I didn’t remember hearing it when I opened the door. But maybe I was so panicked—”

  “I didn’t hear it, either,” Jack said, taking his son from Grace. “We okay on Murray’s porch? Grace needs to sit down.”

  Gage glanced at two firefighters who rounded the side of the building and nodded. “Should be safe enough.” He narrowed his eyes at Madison, Nell, and Mrs. Tate, who hurried down the sidewalk toward them as Jack settled Grace on the porch steps. “I thought I told the three of you to stay put,” Gage said.

  The women ignored him and moved in to fuss over Grace. “You come with Auntie Nell,” Nell said, taking his son from Jack. “We’ll see if Patrick has a treat for you and make some tea for your mommy.”

  “Me want cake.”

  “Don’t have cake, but I’ve got those cookies he likes. And forget about the tea, what Gracie needs is a good stiff drink. So do I,” Patrick said as he followed Nell and Mrs. Tate into the house.

  “Sheriff.” A tall man in uniform waved Gage over.

  Assuming he had news about the fire, Jack, along with Sawyer, followed Gage to the edge of the lane. Once they’d been introduced to the deputy chief, Jack asked how the fire had started.

  “It looks like a burner on the stove hadn’t been shut off and an apron or something had been left too close on the counter. Couple of aerosol cans were left out, too. With the heat…” The man shrugged. “It doesn’t take much.”

  Intent on the man’s answer, Jack didn’t realize Grace had joined them until he heard her say, “No, that’s not right. I didn’t leave the stove on, and I’d never leave anything out on the counters.”

  “Grace, you were tired. Accidents happen. It wasn’t your…”

  “It doesn’t matter how tired I am, Jack. I didn’t leave the stove on, and there was nothing on the counters.”

  “Well, ma’am, it looks like you did. But a fire inspector will be doing an investigation. He’ll be able to tell you more.” When Jack asked the reason behind an investigation, the man said, “There’s been an uptick in the number of kitchen fires purposely set by their owners. Over the last year, it’s become standard procedure.”

  “I wouldn’t do that. I’d never…” she began, then looked at Jack.

  “Oh, come on.
You can’t seriously believe I’d do something like this.” He struggled to keep his voice low in case she wasn’t implying what he thought she was. Not to mention Gage and the deputy fire chief were standing there when his wife accused him of arson.

  “Someone left the stove on, and it wasn’t me. You haven’t exactly kept your opinion of the bakery to yourself, Jack.”

  She did think he’d done it. At least from the expressions on the men’s faces, they didn’t. Jack struggled to not lose his cool. Seeing the desperation and defeat in Grace’s red-rimmed eyes made it easier. “You’re upset, so I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” He took her by the shoulders. “You’re human, Grace. You make mistakes just like the rest of us. You were tired and forgot to turn off the damn stove. It’ll be ruled the accident that it was, and we’ll rebuild.”

  “Jack’s right, Grace. We’ll all help out. You’ll be up and running in no time,” Sawyer said. Madison assured her that Gage would do all that he could to fast-track the insurance claim, despite her husband giving her a zip-it look.

  Maria ran across the road. “Jack”—she touched his shoulder—“are you all right? What happened?”

  “You,” Grace said, pointing a trembling finger at Maria. “It was you. You did this.”

  You’ve got to be kidding me, Jack thought, dragging a hand down his face.

  “What… what did I do?” Maria looked from Grace to Jack.

  “Nothing, Maria. Grace is upset and—”

  “Don’t patronize me, Jackson Flaherty. I know what I saw, and I saw her standing across the street staring at the bakery when I ran to Patrick’s with little Jack.”

  Murray, who’d been sitting on his porch with a beer, came down the steps. “It’s true. I saw her, too. Seemed odd the way she stood there staring at the place.”

  Jack shared a look with Sawyer. He could think of a couple of reasons Maria might’ve been staring at the bakery, most of which he wouldn’t want Grace to hear. But would Maria go as far as setting the place on fire? No way.

  “You see, it’s not just me. And she tried to run over me today, too. Arrest her, Gage.”

  “Hold it, why am I only hearing about this now?” Madison said, narrowing her gaze at Maria before turning back to Grace.

  “I did not try to run you over. I didn’t see you.”

  Grace snorted. “Tell that to someone who believes you.” She looked at Jack. “Oh, right, you did.”

  “You believed her, too. You accepted her apology.”

  “Not anymore, I don’t. Not after this.” She flung her hand at the bakery.

  Gage rubbed the back of his neck. “Grace, honey, this wasn’t arson. It was an accident.”

  “Why won’t any of you listen to me? Someone did this on purpose—”

  With her gaze fixated on the smoldering building, Maria rubbed her ring finger with her thumb. “You think someone set fire to the bakery?”

  “I know someone did. Why were you here? What were you doing?”

  “I-I was walking back to the lodge. I wasn’t doing anything.” Her gaze flickered across the street, then back to the building.

  “Did you see anything out of the ordinary?” Gage asked.

  “No.” Maria averted her gaze. “If there’s nothing else, I have to get going.”

  “That’s fine. You can go,” Gage said.

  “I’m glad no one was hurt. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Jack,” she said and headed off in the opposite direction.

  “That’s it? You’re just going to let her go?” Grace’s temper flared as she aimed an infuriated look at Gage. “It’s because of her that this happened. I’ve had threats phoned in against me, orders canceled, and my cakes destroyed. And if you won’t do anything about it, Gage, I will. I am going to find out who did this.”

  “Look at me.” Jack cupped Grace’s face with his hands. “You’re exhausted, and you’ve had more than your share of crap to deal with today. But you need to calm down, princess, and think this through.” She was breathing like she’d run a hundred-yard dash in two seconds flat. Drawing her into his arms, he stroked her back while directing his question to the deputy fire chief, whose gaze had bounced from one accused to the next with his mouth agape. “Can we stay in the apartment tonight?”

  “No, but you should be good to go back in tomorrow. I’d better get over there.”

  “I’ll join you. And you,” Gage said, taking his wife by the arm, “are going home. Say good night.”

  “Good night,” Madison said and hugged Grace. “We’ll talk in the morning. And don’t worry about the Pines. I’ll call them.”

  “No, we can’t afford to lose that contract, especially now. I…” Her gaze flitted nervously from Jack then back to Madison. “I made two more cakes. They’re in our refrigerator upstairs.”

  Once Madison and Gage left, Jack nudged Grace’s chin up. “You’ll stay with me at Jill’s tonight, and we’ll—”

  “After what she pulled today? I don’t think so. I’ll stay with Patrick, if that’s all right?” she said to the old man.

  Murray patted her arm. “I’ll get your bed made up.” He looked like she’d just made his day. Now Jack was going to ruin it. Because after what had just happened, he had no intention of spending another night apart from his family.

  “You got room for me?” Jack asked.

  The old man looked at Grace. She gave him a small nod. “I suppose,” Murray said, then headed for the house.

  “Go with him. Grab a hot shower, and I’ll be in in a minute.” When she looked set to refuse, Jack said, “There’s nothing more you can do. We’ll deal with it tomorrow. And if you still believe that it wasn’t an accident in the morning, I’ll help you look into it.”

  She blinked. “You will?”

  “Yeah, I will.”

  Giving him a grateful smile, she went up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

  She touched Sawyer’s arm as she went to walk away. “Night, Sawyer.”

  “Night, Grace.” Together they watched her head to the house, then turned as the firefighters regained their attention. “So,” Sawyer said, “was it just me, or was there something off about Maria’s reaction?”

  “There was, but I think it had more to do with what happened at the bar.”

  “I don’t know. What if she—”

  “What? Had a mental break and burned down the bakery without knowing what she was doing?”

  “Well, yeah. It’s possible, isn’t it? After what she said at the bar, maybe she’d think she was doing you a favor.”

  “Keep those kind of theories to yourself, will you? My wife doesn’t need any encouragement.”

  “So you were just humoring her?”

  “Yeah. There’s nothing to look into. It was an accident. You heard her. She had to deal with the fallout from the press conference and then spent half the night making those damn sugar plum cakes. No wonder she forgot to turn off the stove. She’s wearing herself out trying to make a go of the bakery. Libby couldn’t do it. I don’t know why Grace thinks she can.” Staring at the building, he absently rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t need his internal warning system to tell him the place was dangerous. “Maybe we shouldn’t rebuild. Maybe we should just—”

  From behind them came a soft, feminine gasp. Sawyer gave him a you’re-screwed look before Jack turned to face his wife.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The next morning, Grace walked into the bank with as much confidence as her sleep-deprived body could muster. Through no fault of her own, she’d given Jack the perfect excuse to get rid of the bakery. Grace wasn’t about to let that happen. No matter what her husband thought, the fire was not a result of her being too tired to think straight. Last night, she’d mentally retraced each and every step she’d taken before locking up. There was no doubt in her mind that she’d turned off the stove, hung her apron on the hook by the door, and cleaned off the counters.

  But until the fire inspector came back with
his report, no one would believe her. For now, she had to focus on getting the bakery up and running as soon as possible. Which is why she’d called the bank first thing this morning to set up an appointment with Mr. Powell, the branch manager. She needed her line of credit increased. Because if what the deputy fire chief had said was true, it would take more time than she could afford to settle the insurance claim.

  Opening her purse, Grace checked for Madison’s list of talking points in case she forgot one of them. With a surreptitious tug on the hem of the black pencil skirt she’d paired with a white blouse, she smiled at the frizzy-haired teller. “Hi, Wanda, I have an appointment with Mr. Powell.”

  Wanda pressed a hand to the side of her face. “Girl, that was just a darn shame about the fire. Don’t you let anyone make you feel bad for leaving the stove on like you did. I’ve done it a hundred times myself. All that matters is that you and your adorable little boy are—”

  Grace hoped the fire inspector hurried up with his report, because she was getting tired of everyone thinking this was her fault. “Thanks, Wanda. Is Mr. Powell ready to see me?” She felt bad for interrupting Wanda, but the woman liked to talk and Grace had to be at the Pines for the tasting in three hours.

  “Your husband’s with him now.” Wanda obviously didn’t register Grace’s jaw dropping at the news because she leaned on the counter, cupped her chin in her hand, and released a dreamy sigh. “I heard he rescued you from the fire last night. That’s so romantic.”

  “Jack? Jack’s with Mr. Powell?” Grace repeated, her voice raising on a panicked note. There was only one reason for him to be here.

  “Well, yes, isn’t that what I just said?” Wanda’s brow furrowed, then she shot a glance to the frosted window of Mr. Powell’s office and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “What is wrong with you, girl? How could you ask that man for a divorce? He is hot, like smoking hot.” She made a sizzling sound and touched her finger to her arm. “Yowza.”