His mother had raised him to be a gentleman. And a gentleman didn’t run away from tough situations. So approaching the business entrance to Manna at Common Ground the next day, the irony didn’t escape him that the way his social life was at the moment, he considered breaking a date with a beautiful woman as a tough situation.
Cameron didn’t know if she was at the soup kitchen on Thursday, but it was an easy visit for him to make from the public safety building.
As he pulled open the door to the Common Ground business office, he had one goal: extricate himself from the date with Summer Spencer.
“Chief Cam,” Mrs. Davidson trilled from her desk. “What a surprise. Two days in a row. To what do we owe the pleasure?”
Doris Davidson was one of a handful of full-time employees for the Common Ground ministries. She was the central receptionist, point person and general bookkeeper for the soup kitchen, recreation center, homeless shelter and free clinic.
“Hi, Mrs. D. Is Summer Spencer working today?”
She gave him a sly smile. “As a matter of fact, she is. I think you know where to find her,” Mrs. D said with a general wave in the rear direction.
“Thank you,” he said, making his way toward the kitchen.
As he drew closer, Cameron heard raised voices, tinged with anger.
“You just can’t waltz in here and rewrite the rules of Manna to suit your own purpose. You had no right to allow unauthorized people in here.”
“Ilsa, if they hadn’t been here, we wouldn’t have been able to serve the evening meal. There weren’t enough volunteers.”
Cameron recognized Summer’s voice. He pushed open the door and said, “Excuse me.” Neither of the women saw or heard him.
Summer’s hair was pulled up and back with clips. She wore one of the Common Ground aprons over slacks and a short-sleeve top and had a wooden spoon in one hand. The other woman was in her mid-to late-forties with blond hair cut into a short and severe bob. While Summer was dressed to work, the other woman wore a suit he guessed was both linen and designer.
“Are you implying that I’m not doing my job?” the woman demanded of Summer.
“I’m not implying anything,” Summer said. “What I’m saying is that Wednesday is our busiest day. If it hadn’t been for Chief Jackson and his men stepping in when they did, we would have had crackers to serve to our guests.”
Hearing his name in the middle of the fray brought Cameron up short. Was she being reprimanded for having him work in the kitchen?
From the way she gripped the wooden spoon, Cameron knew that she was holding on to her temper. Another woman would have been ready to use the utensil as a weapon.
“Excuse me,” he said, much louder this time.
Both women turned toward the voice.
“Cameron!” Summer said.
“Who are you?” the suited woman demanded.
Cameron came forward. Summer may have been holding on to her patience, but he was quickly losing his. The accusatory tone of the woman’s voice put him on the defensive.
“My name is Cameron Jackson. I’m the Cedar Springs fire chief.”
“Oh,” the woman said turning on both a smile and the charm. “Mrs. Davidson didn’t tell me I had an appointment. What can I do for you, Chief Jackson?”
He glanced at Summer, who looked as if she wanted to be anywhere but there.
“You can tell me why you’re berating this woman whose only fault was looking out for the best interests of the homeless and indigent.”
“Cameron,” Summer began. “You don’t have to...”
He held up a hand even as the woman said, “I beg your pardon?”
“I was the unauthorized volunteer yesterday,” he said. “I dropped off some food donations from the fire houses and discovered that the ladies here were shorthanded.”
“Oh,” the woman said, glancing at Summer and then turning her attention back to Cameron. “I didn’t realize...” she said as her voice faded away.
Then, “I’m sorry,” she told Summer, the apology curt and in Cameron’s estimation, not at all sincere. “I didn’t know that the city’s fire chief was the volunteer. That’s perfectly acceptable,” she said, once again ignoring Summer and giving Cameron a one-hundred-watt smile.
“By the way,” she said offering her hand. “I’m Ilsa Keller, the director of Manna.”
“Hmm,” was Cameron’s only response as he gave her a handshake that was at best perfunctory and at worst as abrupt as she had been with Summer.
“Well,” Ilsa said. “I have a meeting to attend to. The Women’s Club is considering taking Manna on as a service project.”
Summer’s mouth dropped open.
“My shift is ending,” she said. “Who’s going to do prep for tomorrow?”
Ilsa shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. The work will get done. Chief Jackson, it was a delight meeting you. I hope our paths cross again.”
A moment later, Ilsa was out the door Cameron had come in.
“Is it safe to venture out now?” a voice asked from behind a door.
Cameron turned and saw a woman’s head peeking out of what he guessed was a pantry.
Summer sighed and put the wooden spoon in the sink. “Yes, it’s safe. She’s gone.”
“Thank goodness. I was getting some raisins for the spoon bread when I heard her come in. Sorry to have abandoned you, Summer. But frankly, I thought staying in the pantry was a better idea.”
“That’s okay, Olivia. Olivia Green, this is Chief Cameron Jackson,” Summer said, making the introductions.
He nodded toward Olivia. “Ms. Green.”
“What just happened here?” Cameron said, his issue with Summer’s background forgotten as he stewed over the way she had been treated.
“You just saw the Wicked Witch of the West in action,” Olivia said, depositing the large canister of raisins on a counter. “She blows in here like that all the time. Never does a lick of work but is always acting like the place would cease to exist without her at the helm.”
“Olivia,” Summer said. “Be kind.”
“That woman doesn’t deserve any kindness. And frankly, I’m sick of it,” Olivia said. “I’ve already sent a letter to the board about what’s been going on here.”
“What’s been going on?” Cameron asked as he watched Olivia toss ingredients into a large mixing bowl.
“Summer has been keeping us up and running, that’s what’s going on. If anybody here deserved a salary for all the work they put into Manna, it would be Summer, not Ilsa.”
Summer rubbed her temples. “It’s not that bad, Cameron. Really.”
“No,” Olivia snapped. “It’s worse.”
“Thank you for coming to my defense,” she told Cameron. “You didn’t have to. I was already telling her about us being shorthanded here. I just don’t think she realizes that the day-to-day operation of this place needs attention just as much as fund-raising and community awareness.”
Cameron looked around. “Is it just the two of you or is someone else hiding in the pantry?”
“Summer is leaving,” Olivia said. “She’s already been here for six hours of a three-hour shift.”
“I’m not leaving you when there’s...”
“What can I do to help?” Cameron interjected.
The two women glanced at each other. “We could use another set of hands,” Olivia pointed out. “Especially since Madame Director clearly isn’t lending any tangible support.”
A few minutes later, Cameron’s hands were washed, an apron was tied at his waist and he was chopping vegetables. If he was going at it a bit more aggressively than either Summer or Olivia would have, neither woman said anything about it.
“Does she always interact with volunteers like that?” h
e asked.
“What you saw is what we get,” Olivia said.
Cameron looked to Summer, who reluctantly nodded.
“This is a ministry,” she said. “But there are internal, er, issues, that make it difficult to carry out our mission sometimes.”
“There’s just one issue,” Olivia piped up from where she worked. “And its name is Ilsa Keller.”
The three made fast work of completing the preparations for the next day’s meal service. By the time they finished, Cameron’s assessment of Summer had changed...again.
“Can I buy you two a cup of coffee?” he said.
“None for me,” Olivia answered. “I have work waiting for me at home. You two go on. I’ll wrap up the rest of this. It’ll only take me a few minutes.”
Summer paused, but Olivia made a shooing motion with her hands. “Go.”
Summer surveyed the kitchen. Everything apparently met with her satisfaction because she nodded and headed outside.
“I didn’t mean to go all caveman,” Cameron said.
“You didn’t. At least not that I saw.”
The edges of his mouth quirked up. “That’s because I kept it inside.”
“Those carrots and that celery might disagree.”
That earned a laugh. “I thought I was showing off my Iron Chef skills.”
“If that makes you feel better,” she retorted.
“All right,” he said. “I confess. I was letting off the steam that your director brought to a boiling point.”
“Twice now you’ve bailed me out at Manna. Thank you.”
Remembering his reason for seeking her out in the first place, Cameron felt a twinge of conscience. His ex-wife would not have been as gracious as Summer, either with Ilsa Keller or with him butting in.
“Cameron, I forgot to ask. What did you come to Manna for? I’m sure your original intent wasn’t to referee a fight or to chop vegetables.”
To Cameron, her attempt at self-deprecating humor fell a little flat. He’d seen her mouth tremble as she’d fought back the urge to cry after the undeserved dressing down by that woman.
Before he could answer, a horn tooted and they both turned toward the sound.
“Summer Darling! I thought that was you. I heard you were back in town. We still do doubles at the club Saturday mornings. You know you have an open invitation. We’d love to see you.”
“I’ll call you,” she called out to the man who tooted his horn again and waved.
Doubles at the club. Cameron didn’t know if they were talking about tennis, golf or something else. But whatever it was, he knew he didn’t have an open invitation or even a membership at the exclusive country club.
When she turned back to him, Summer looked troubled.
“Cameron, about tomorrow....”
“That’s what I came to see you about.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “You’ve been very kind. But I’m going to have to back out. I’m sorry.”
Her words couldn’t have been any more shocking. She’d dumped him before he could dump her!
But the snub had the opposite affect on him. Instead of being relieved to have escaped another potential situation like the one with his ex-wife, he suddenly had something to prove—to himself and to Summer.
* * *
“I got cold feet,” Summer told her sister. “One minute, I was anticipating a date with him and in the next, it was like, ‘I can’t do this.’”
Spring was finishing up her own volunteer shift at the free clinic run by the Common Ground ministries. Summer had left Cameron standing in front of Manna and gone straight to the clinic. Spring had always been her sounding board, and tonight was no exception.
“And I hate coming across as the damsel in distress,” Summer said. “He probably thinks I’m some sort of flake.”
“You don’t,” Spring assured her as she slipped off her stethoscope then shrugged out of the white lab jacket she wore at the clinic. She hung it in her locker, scooped up her bag and faced her little sister. “This is an occasion that begs for ice cream. Let’s go.”
Ice cream must have been the solution of the evening. When they reached the Main Street shop, Two Scoops & More was packed with people.
And right in the middle of it all stood Cameron Jackson.
Chapter Seven
“Uh, let’s go somewhere else,” Summer said.
But Spring had spotted the fire chief, as well, and nudged Summer into the crowded ice cream shop.
“Face your fears, little sis.”
Cameron had clearly spotted them and was making his way toward the sisters.
As if sensing his urgency, the throng seemed to open a path for him. Summer turned to retreat, but Spring stopped her.
Summer took a deep breath and braced herself.
Cameron wasted no time getting to the point. “Can you at least tell me why you changed your mind?”
“I just did,” she said, knowing the answer was lame.
Telling her sister the truth was one thing. She couldn’t admit to this man that the reason she didn’t want to go out with him was because he made her nervous. Because even though her husband was dead, going on a date with another man felt like cheating.
It all sounded crazy, even to her own ears.
He’d been kind and considerate at Manna, but her gut was twisted in knots, much like the hot pretzels offered in the ice cream parlor.
“I hope you’ll reconsider,” Cameron said. “Tomorrow is the downtown merchants’ Street Stroll. The Main Street stores are all open late. I thought you might enjoy seeing the new downtown.”
Summer bit her lower lip. She’d seen an ad about the Street Stroll in the newspaper and was planning to come anyway. It sounded like fun. She turned to get Spring’s assessment, but the physician was nowhere in sight. Spring had pulled a disappearing act on her.
“Are you looking for someone?” Cameron asked.
“My sister Spring.”
“She left a moment ago. She waved as I was making my way over to you.”
“Of course she did,” Summer muttered to herself.
It wouldn’t be like a date date, she told herself. They would be outside and around lots of other people. Sort of like right now. She could handle that much better than the prospect of an intimate dinner date.
The other day when she’d told Spring that she didn’t like confrontation, it had been true. She knew the situation with Ilsa Keller was getting out of control. She needed to do something. And then, before she could take the first step in making things better at Manna, Cameron had witnessed her humiliation. There really was no other way to describe that scene in the kitchen. She’d wanted the floor to open up and swallow her when she realized Cameron was standing there seeing the way Ilsa ran the place.
She’d considered leaving, like so many of the other Manna volunteers. But she believed in the soup kitchen’s mission and truly enjoyed the work. The only thing that marred it from being a perfect experience was Ilsa...and Cameron seeing her as someone who needed rescuing.
Summer had spent her entire life being cloistered, first by her parents and then by her husband.
“The stroll only comes around once a month,” Cameron said, “so the timing couldn’t be better. Say you’ll come. Please.”
Summer’s gaze connected with the blue of Cameron’s eyes.
Suddenly all of the East Coast’s butterflies were having a convention in her stomach.
She dipped a toe into the water and gave a small shiver.
“All right.”
* * *
The next evening came quickly for Summer. She took extra care with her clothes and makeup, keeping both simple. A strapless sundress and sandals that had heels but were comfortable f
or walking—or in the case of this date, strolling—was capped off with a fragrance that was light and easy, summery just like her name.
Cameron was prompt. Her front doorbell rang five minutes before he said he’d pick her up.
When he made no effort to come inside, she tucked her house keys in her bag and placed the thin strap of it over her shoulders.
She engaged the alarm system and moments later found herself not in a Ford pickup truck, but rather the luxurious front seat of a Lexus sedan.
Strike one for stereotypes, she thought.
“Why are you smiling?” Cameron asked as he buckled himself in and then started the engine.
“I pegged you as a pickup-truck kind of guy.”
Cameron grinned. “I drive trucks and SUVs for the job. I want to be comfortable after hours. Would you like me to go get one of the fire trucks? I could put a helmet on your head and you could hang on to the back of the ladder truck.”
She laughed at his teasing. “This is just fine,” she said, settling into the luxurious leather.
She did not add what she had been thinking—that even though his vehicle was unexpected, it suited him. He handled it well. That made her a little nervous.
What if he liked to race?
Don’t borrow trouble, Summer. And stop thinking about Garrett.
She forced herself to relax.
The drive downtown from her house wasn’t long, but it was long enough to need to fill the time with conversation. People liked to talk about themselves, so before he could ask her any questions, she posed one of him.
“What drew you to firefighting?”
He glanced over at her and grinned. “Probably the same gene that made me get certified in CPR when I was nine or so. Randy, my younger brother, wanted to take swimming lessons. I was worried about him and talked my mom into letting me do the CPR training. I was the youngest person in the class.”
He made a sound, sort of like a question.
“What?” Summer asked.
The Fireman Finds a Wife Page 5