Love Inspired December 2014 - Box Set 2 of 2: Her Holiday FamilySugar Plum SeasonHer Cowboy HeroSmall-Town Fireman

by Ruth Logan Herne

  “Oh, yeah, right. Well, you oughta know.” Chad was younger than Yorky, for that matter, but his seriousness earned him a bit of an “old man” reputation around the firehouse. It made Dylan wonder how he’d ever won the heart of someone so youthful and energetic as his wife, Jeannie, who ran the town’s confectionary. Talk about a case of opposites attracting...

  “What if we turned it into a log cabin like the old resort that used to be in town.” Jesse leaned in. “You know, the one Chief Bradens’s father-in-law ran?”

  “Oh, and what if we could rig it so that paper flames came out the window,” Wally added, getting excited. “And then we could pump water from the river and spray everyone as we pretended to put out the fire.”

  “That’d be dramatic,” Yorky said with a bit of skepticism. “And complicated.”

  “Not really,” countered Jesse, who had a flair for both the dramatic and the complicated. Dylan swallowed hard at the thought of his beloved boat being encased in fake logs and engulfed in paper flames. Then again, if the floats were a competition, how could something like that lose? “Actually,” Jesse continued, “it wouldn’t be hard at all. We could rig the flames with some filmy fabric in just the right colors and a few well-placed fans. It’d be epic, actually.”

  “Epic,” Dylan echoed. “Don’t people usually use that word in front of the noun disaster?”

  Jesse frowned. “Pay no attention to Mr. Wet Blanket over there. We’ll respect your watercraft, McDonald. And it will be epic in the best sense of the word.”

  “Definitely,” Wally chimed in. Even Yorky looked as if he’d go for it.

  Dylan looked over at Chad, who could usually be counted upon to bring a note of caution to any plan, but even he had a hint of a smile. “We’d be sure to win. No one else could come close to an idea like that.” Would Chad be so quick to endorse all this if the plan involved that truck he loved so much?

  Then again, Dylan sighed, hadn’t he just bemoaned his loss of fun to God in his morning prayer time? Maybe the answer involved a step out of his comfort zone like this—as long as the business didn’t suffer.

  “Everyone will be expecting us to trick the High Tide out to look like a fire truck—you know they will. This will be so much better.” Jesse had already grabbed a sheet of paper from the shelf behind him and started sketching.

  “We’d have to swear Charlotte and Abby to secrecy on the flame part,” Chad advised. Dylan thought swearing Abby Reed to secrecy on anything was a sketchy proposition. Only Chad’s wife, Jeannie, was Abby’s best friend, so if anyone had the leverage to silence Abby, it would be the Owenses.

  Jesse’s pen was flying furiously over the paper. “The fact that we’d have to build it here and install it the night before just makes the surprise that much easier to pull off. I tell you, it’s perfect.”

  Dylan wiped his hands down his face and tried not to panic at the notion that every part of his life was being pulled into this crazy event. “Well...”

  “Come on.” Wally stared at him. “This is brilliant. You’re the chair of this thing—it’d look bad if you didn’t have the best float.”

  Dylan had a last-minute reservation hit him. “It’ll look rigged if we win, won’t it?”

  Jesse sat back in his chair. “Not if we deserve it. And believe me, we will.” He gave Dylan a sideways look. “It will be awesome publicity for your business. And you need a project. You’ve got too much free time, dude.” Jesse stopped just short of saying “You’re a brokenhearted brood who needs his time occupied,” but the tone of voice implied it loud and clear.

  The free time crack wasn’t true—at least not anymore. “Are you kidding? This thing is eating up every free moment I have. I never wanted to run this little circus—you know that.” Perhaps it was best Chief Bradens wasn’t in the room, or Dylan might have been tempted to direct that last line straight at him. Some days the chief’s ideas of “personal development” on the part of his firefighters was a bit hard to take.

  “Yeah, but the company is so pleasant.” Jesse waggled his eyebrows.

  “Not you three.”

  “No, your cochair. Cocaptain. Whatever you and Karla Kennedy are.”

  Dylan fought the urge to kick Jesse under the table, because now eyebrows were waggling all around. “Oh, yeah, her,” and other such teasing comments rumbled around the table for an infuriating moment before Dylan stood up. “I think we’re done here.”

  “Touchy, are we?” Yorky’s smile was genuine but still annoying. “She’s nice.”

  “She’s going back to Chicago at the end of the summer.” Dylan thought that comment would end the discussion, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he realized that simply implied that he and Karla had talked about it. Which wasn’t true, but no one would believe it now even if he did deny it.

  “End of summer’s a long way away,” Wally said. “She’s kind of cute, if you like dark hair.”

  “And good coffee,” Yorky added. “She made me some fancy drink the other day that was delicious. A ‘macarooni’ something.”

  Dylan laughed. “A macchiato?”

  Yorky pointed a finger. “Yeah, that. Couldn’t believe how much I liked it. Now, I wouldn’t drink one every day—” his chest puffed up “—but it was my birthday and she offered to make me something special with my doughnut.”

  A chorus of “aww”s rang around the table. Yorky was a big guy but as soft as they came. He’d gotten his name from the tiny, delicate Yorkshire terrier his wife had bought. The husky fireman adored the little yippy thing but would never admit it. That made the third fireman Karla had won over this week. “Keep that up and we’re going to have to ask Chief to put in one of those fancy espresso machines in the kitchen.”

  “Not on your life,” came Chief Bradens’s voice from the doorway. “This is a root beer firehouse, and that is not open to negotiation.” Gordon Falls had a company that made outstanding root beer, and thanks to a close call with some burning equipment a decade ago, the firehouse had a continual free supply of the soda pop. The GFVFD drank root beer, period—no other soft drink was permitted. The only change to that decade-old setup had been the addition of diet root beer at JJ Cushman’s request.

  “I like going over to Karl’s anyway.” Jesse folded up his notes and tucked them in his shirt pocket. “I’d get tired of looking at your ugly mugs over coffee every day.”

  The group broke up, the meeting’s goal evidently achieved, although Dylan couldn’t remember actually saying “yes” to the grand scheme.

  Jesse caught up with him in the hallway. “Hey, you are okay with all this, aren’t you?”

  Dylan was pleased someone even bothered to ask. “I suppose so. If you build it. I need that boat to live through the night, you know?”

  “Not to worry, pal. I’ll keep her safe.” After a second he added, “You said business was going okay. That still true?” Jesse was in the beginning stages of launching his own home renovation business, so they had often talked shop.

  “It’s—” Dylan reached for the right word “—tight. The Coffee Catch thing is helping to perk up business—pun intended.”

  Jesse shook his head. “I know those loan payment schedules can keep a guy up at night. Your plan is solid. I know that, you know that. As a matter of fact, I was thinking about getting the guys to go in together on a charter to celebrate the chief’s birthday next month.”

  Dylan was glad to hear that. He’d secretly worried that his friends and coworkers would pitch for free fishing trips now that he had all the equipment. Someday he could do things like that, but certainly not now. Just this morning he said a prayer of thanks that the Gordon Falls Community Church Knitting Circle had booked their own trip for this Wednesday—something about trying out hooks other than crochet hooks. “I think Chief Bradens would get a kick out of that.”

&n
bsp; “Shoot me an email with the dates you have open after the anniversary celebration is over. Coffee Catch included, of course.”

  Dylan grinned. “Of course.”

  Jesse’s wide grin turned rather conspiratorial and he bumped a shoulder with Dylan as they walked down the hall. “So, how’s it really going with your cochair?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It’s been nearly a week since you took her out fishing and I’ve yet to hear the details. How’d it go?”

  Dylan didn’t like where this was heading. “Everyone knows the details. She caught a huge fish.”

  Jesse bumped his shoulder again. “I’m talking about the other part. You know...the spending time out on the water with a clever, beautiful woman part.”

  Dylan stopped walking. “Oh, no, you don’t. I’m not getting into this with you.”

  “That’s fine by me, as long as you get into it with her. She’s perfect for you. You know that, don’t you?”

  It was time to shut this down. “Look, this is not happening. She is not perfect for me, and even if she was, I’m pretty sure she isn’t interested.”

  “Could have fooled me. I heard about the two of you having breakfast at Karl’s.”

  An irritating little voice yelled “I told you so!” from the back of Dylan’s brain. “Eating eggs with a member of the opposite sex does not constitute the launch of a romantic entanglement. As a matter of fact, it was a committee chair meeting.”

  Jesse shrugged. “Yorky said she looked entangled.”

  “Why is Yorky—why is anyone, for that matter— watching me eat breakfast?” Dylan yanked the boat parade float sign-up sheet down from the firehouse bulletin board. He stared his friend straight in the eye, giving his words all the weight he could muster. “I am not her type. When you hear her talk about her plans for a snazzy city life, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see she’s looking for a shirt-and-tie guy. And that is not me.”

  It would have been nice if that shut Jesse up, but Dylan wasn’t that fortunate. “Did the lady actually say that, or is that just Yvonne whispering in your ear?”

  Some days Jesse’s pushy nature was a useful trait. Today wasn’t one of them. “Knock it off, Sykes. Now.” He stuffed the sign-up sheet in his pocket and stomped out of the building before he had to listen to any more of his friend’s nonsense.

  * * *

  Sunday afternoon, Karla spread the document she’d printed out from the Clifton on the kitchen table in the flat above Karl’s. Dad had come over after church to fix the medicine cabinet hinge. He walked into the kitchen as he wiped the grease from his hands, stared over her shoulder. “So this is the program, huh?”

  “A year stint at Perk. I can hardly wait. Dad, you should see the equipment they have there. The espresso machine alone costs more than my car.”

  Dad scanned the long list of bullet points outlining her responsibilities. “Sounds like a meal ticket. Any hotel in the world would hire you after this.”

  Her father still wasn’t sold on the idea of her going into business for herself quite so soon. She knew her father recognized the apprenticeship at Perk for the prime opportunity it was, but she also realized he liked it even more as a stopgap to her moving forward with Rooster’s.

  “I don’t want to work at a hotel, Dad. Rooster’s is still my future. This will just be a fabulous stepping stone. I can look at spaces and get things set up while I’m working at Perk.”

  “When are you going to tell Grandpa?”

  Karla leaned back in her chair and sighed. That was the real question, wasn’t it? “Soon.”

  Dad sat down at the table. “He still thinks you’re staying the whole summer, and this job starts in three weeks. You can’t keep it from him for much longer.”

  “It’ll make him so sad. He talks to me like I’m going to be here forever.”

  “I know.” Her Dad had once been the target of Grandpa’s “work at Karl’s” pressure campaign. She never really thought she’d find herself in those shoes. “But that should be his problem, not yours. I have faith you’ll find a way to tell him that won’t hurt too much.”

  Karla wasn’t so sure that was true. The wedge Dad’s refusal had driven between him and Grandpa was still there, and it had been years. If the next generation of Kennedys inflicted the same wound, Karla was sure it would hurt even more. And that’s what made this so hard. She fingered the papers. “This is what I’m supposed to do. I’m glad to help out here and all, but it’s not my future. The Perk internship just proves to me that God is lining things up for me to launch Rooster’s someday.”

  “So help Grandpa see it that way.” He sighed. “I know I hurt him by going my own direction, but it was the right thing to do. That’s why I think it’s so important that you go in yours.”

  Karla decided to switch the topic. “There’s still the problem of Karl’s. Grandpa thinks he can go back to running the shop, but I don’t think he can. It’s a lot of work, even for me. How do we get him to come around on this and hire someone else?”

  Dad folded his hands. “I think Dad knows—on some level, at least—that it’s beyond him. He’s just not ready to admit it. Hiring anyone to come in is a big leap for him, and hiring someone whose last name isn’t Kennedy is an enormous leap. I think it’s just that having you behind the counter has brought up old wishes, old dreams he had for the place. And the fact that he’s just plain...old.” One corner of Dad’s mouth turned up in a wistful smile. “That’s never easy for any of us to swallow.”

  Karla gathered the papers and put them back in a folder she’d proudly marked “Perk.” She needed to spend some serious time asking God’s guidance on how to talk to the old man. “I love Grandpa. How do I tell him this without hurting him?”

  Dad put his hand atop hers. “I’m not sure you can. But you can’t let that stop you from moving forward with your own life. I went my own way, and while I won’t say it was smooth sailing, I never regretted it. You’ve stepped in to help when you were needed, and now it’s time to seize this great opportunity God’s laid in front of you. You have to trust it will all work out.” He squeezed her hand. “Eventually, if not at first.” He straightened up, blew out a breath and changed the subject. “That Coffee Catch idea seems to be really catching on for Dylan. Who’s up next?”

  Karla laughed. “Oh, you’ll love this one.”

  “Really? Who is it?”

  “The Gordon Falls Community Church Knitting Circle.”

  Dad’s jaw dropped. “What?”

  “You know Violet. She’s decided it shouldn’t be just for tourists, that all the locals should help support Dylan’s new business. So evidently all the women pooled their money and they’re going fishing instead of knitting for their next meeting. It’s hysterical, when you think of it.”

  “Aren’t you part of that group?”

  “Oh, they invited me. And I thought about it, but I think it’s best to keep business and pleasure from mixing on this one.” She slid her Perk file into her backpack alongside her textbooks. “I need to be at Karl’s in order to make their drinks. Besides, it’d be a tight fit with all those women, Dylan and me.”

  “I don’t know. You landed a pretty big fish last time you went out with him on that boat.” Dad rubbed his stomach. “I’m hungry.”

  She waved her father away. “Very funny. No, I think I’ll take a pass and just have their coffee waiting.”

  “Suit yourself. But it sounds like you might be missing out on some fun.”

  Chapter Ten

  Knock. Knock. Knock-knock-knock. “Karla?”

  Karla put down her hairbrush. Karl’s wasn’t due to open for another two hours; there was no reason for someone to be banging on her door.

  “Karla, you’re up, aren’t you? I saw the light on. Are you decent?�
�� A woman’s voice whispered loudly on the other side of her door.

  Yawning, Karla peered through the peephole to see Violet Sharpton in a windbreaker and some odd bucket hat that looked like it belonged on a...fisherman. That’s right; it was Wednesday—the day of the Knitting Circle’s Coffee Catch. She pulled open the door.

  “You’re coming with us,” Violet declared, swooping into the room.

  “Um...thanks, but I really have to get the shop open.”

  Violet went to Karla’s closet door and pulled it open. “You’ll want a jacket or something—it’s still a bit chilly out there with the sun barely up.”

  The sun barely up, yes. All the more reason to... “Violet, why are you here?”

  “Marge’s arthritis is acting up again so now we have an empty space all paid for. You’re a member of our group now—you should come. Melba can’t bring Maria—she’s too small for this sort of thing. Charlotte’s already coming, so that leaves you.”

  Violet began filing through the hangers in Karla’s closet, evidently looking for suitable outerwear. She turned, gave Karla’s current clothing—perfectly presentable jeans and a T-shirt—a once-over, then plucked a Chicago Culinary School zip-front sweatshirt from the back of Karla’s sofa and held it out. “Change into some sneakers and you’ll be all set. Tina wants to see if she can catch one bigger than your champion fish, and you know how Tina gets.”

  She did not know how Tina got. She did not have time to go fishing this morning. “The shop...”

  “I talked Karl and Emily into handling the morning crowd. And you can just make our spiffy coffees when we get in. No one’s in any rush.” Violet checked her watch. “Except us. Come on, we shove off in fifteen minutes. Captain McDonald said to be right on time.”

  Karla parked a hand on one hip. “Grandpa is not supposed to be working the shop. You know that.”

  “Of course, that’s what the doctors say.” She began rooting through a selection of headbands Karla kept in a bowl on a hallway table. “But he’s going stir-crazy back at his house. Besides, I found him a stool to set behind the counter. He said ‘yes’ in a heartbeat, and Emily was happy to drive him in. Your father will meet Karl at the shop in an hour or two just in case he gets tired.” She selected a red headband—the one Karla was intending to wear this morning, oddly enough—and held it out.