Love, Special Delivery

by Melinda Curtis

Mandy frowned. Hadn’t Ben snuck a look at his pager when he was with her?

  “Correction.” Keith climbed down from the truck bed. He laid his hand on his wife’s shoulder and then ran his palm down her arm to cup her elbow, just as Ben had done with Mandy. “We check our pagers before important time. It’s a karma thing. You check your pager, and because you did, it won’t go off during the important stuff.”

  A likely story.

  Mandy hefted the last of the towels from her construction bucket into the back of Keith’s pickup, mumbling, “That sounds like the tale of someone’s lucky shorts.”

  “Did you...?” Vanessa dropped her wet towels back in her bucket. “Did my son tell you about his lucky shorts? He never tells anyone about that.”

  “Don’t tell me it’s true.” Mandy dumped the excess water on the shrubs lining the parking lot. “I mean, that Ben’s dirty shorts turned him into an all-star pitcher.”

  “That’s all he told you?” Vanessa was staring at Mandy like a policeman stares at a suspected felon. “He didn’t say anything about his shorts and...us?”

  “No.”

  “Do you mind...?” Vanessa appeared torn. “I think you could be important to him. Ben hasn’t shown any interest in anyone in so long. Could we tell you more of the story?”

  Mandy began to protest. What good would Vanessa’s tale do? Ben didn’t see the world the way she did.

  “It’s not a long story. But it might help you understand our son.” Keith reached for Vanessa’s hand. “I was a gung-ho fireman in my youth. Worked every shift I could as a fireman and an EMT.”

  Mandy was a reluctant audience, fully expecting to be told too much information at any moment.

  “Keith picked up extra shifts so I could stay home with the boys,” Vanessa said proudly. “We have two sons. Now, Ben. He’s our oldest. He’s always been taller than average, and he had so many growth spurts he wasn’t always the most coordinated player on the field.”

  “He was horrible at sports,” Keith said gruffly. “It was torture to watch him play.”

  Vanessa tsked. “He got better.”

  “With his lucky shorts?” Mandy ventured a guess.

  “Exactly.” Vanessa nodded. “But our younger son, Mike, was a natural athlete. For a while, there was talk about him earning a college scholarship in baseball. Imagine how thrilled we were. College is so expensive.”

  “And he could have gone on to the pros. So one year I took time off to take Mike to travel ball tournaments and exhibitions.” Keith closed the tailgate with a resounding bang. Instead of turning, he held on to the metal and kept his back to the women.

  “While they were away, Ben’s coordination fell in sync with his size,” Vanessa said in hushed tones, as if imparting a much-guarded family secret. “Keith never saw him pitch. Ben was devastated.”

  Poor Ben.

  “Sometimes you don’t realize you’re favoring one child over another until it’s too late.” Keith gave Mandy a sad smile. “Come on, Vanessa. We’ve taken up enough of this young lady’s time.” He dug his keys from his pocket and let the two women have a moment.

  “I know Ben loves his father,” Vanessa said quietly. “But because of the choices we made, Ben believes firemen can’t be good dads. He’s got fire in his blood, and he’s determined to stay single until he retires...or the right woman comes along to prove him wrong.”

  Vanessa looked at Mandy as if she believed she was that woman.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  BEN EXPECTED MEN to show up at the first volunteer firefighter session.

  The crowd wore perfume.

  Ben bet Keith was to blame. His father claimed he wasn’t feeling well enough to attend. More likely he was too chicken to face the music of six females staring at Ben’s every move. There were five elderly women in the crowd, including one with a walker. A redhead about the same age as Mandy sat in the front row, checking out Ben’s...well, Ben’s everything.

  He was surprised Mandy hadn’t shown up. In actuality, he was surprised he was disappointed Mandy hadn’t shown up. She’d have been an asset in this crowd. Although she was probably busy cleaning up the post office. Ben hadn’t been able to help her. He had too much of his father’s paperwork to get caught up on.

  He’d set out folding chairs for the meeting in the common room and had made twenty copies of the application. Because of the arguments he’d had with Mandy—two in one day!—he’d been looking forward to this. His stress level needed this.

  He couldn’t just call off the meeting, not with the possibility of at least one recruit. He tried to assess the redhead’s arm strength without seeming to check her out.

  She smiled, clearly thinking he was checking her out.

  Ben looked away and cleared his throat. “Is everyone here for the volunteer firefighter program?”

  As one, the women nodded.

  “I’m going to read a list of requirements.” Ben held up a sheet of paper and read the first requirement. “At least eighteen years of age.”

  The elderly ladies giggled, one of which was Eunice.

  The redhead nodded. “I’m legal.” She’d worn a black skirt, white blouse and heels to a firefighter meeting?

  Spirits sinking, Ben read, “Must hold a valid California driver’s license.”

  The lady in the walker slouched.

  Ben read, “Must be able to lift fifty pounds.”

  “Just once?” the redhead in the front row asked, a wrinkle in her otherwise smooth brow.

  “It’s not a one-time test.” He tried not to look at the only woman under the age of forty in the room. “Some of our equipment can weigh a lot. The SCBA equipment...” At their blank looks, he translated, “The self-contained breathing apparatus, which is the oxygen tank and mask. That alone weighs nearly fifty pounds.”

  The redhead stared at a spot on the back wall.

  A miniature woman with very short gray hair raised her hand. “Actually, three of us are here representing the town council.” She introduced herself as Agnes, the woman with the walker as Mildred and a willowy woman with her white hair in a bun as Rose. “We won’t be trying out for one of your firefighter positions.”

  That was a relief.

  “And we had time to kill before bingo,” added Mildred. With her round curls, round face and round glasses, she had a striking resemblance to Mrs. Claus. “So Eunice and Carol had to come along.”

  That explained why five elderly women had shown up.

  The redhead took advantage of the interruption in Ben’s program. “I might not be cut out to be a volunteer firefighter, but I can provide refreshments.” She didn’t bat her eyes like Eunice, but she worked them up and down his uniform. “Say eight o’clock tonight at El Rosal’s bar?”

  Ben’s face felt hot.

  “I didn’t hear what she said.” Mildred raised her voice. “What did you say, dear?”

  “She asked him out,” Rose shouted.

  “And what did he say?” Mildred shouted back.

  “He said thanks, but no thanks.” Ben softened his rejection with a smile. “I’m on duty.” For the first time since coming to Harmony Valley, he was glad he was working 24/7.

  “Some other time.” The redhead left with a clack of heels, leaving the elderly contingent twittering in her wake.

  It was official. This was a disaster.

  “You poor dear.” Agnes stood. “Did no one tell you that Emma Jackson and Becca Harris went into labor earlier today? Half the town and nearly everyone of firefighting age is at the hospital in Santa Rosa.”

  “Best reschedule.” Rose nodded her head.

  “Great advice.” Ben was relieved he might have a volunteer program after all.

  “We really need to be going.” Mildred banged her walker in
to place. “We can’t be late for bingo.”

  The elderly women filed out. Ben began folding chairs and planning the next meeting. He’d need to do some one-on-one recruiting this time. Ask around. Network. The town council seemed to be plugged in.

  Mandy walked up the driveway. She wore blue jeans and a green tank top that showed the wiry definition of her slender arms.

  Ben had never been so happy to see a muscular woman in his life.

  “Am I early?” She lingered at the garage door, taking in the folded chairs. “Your dad said to come at seven thirty.”

  If his father wasn’t dead, Ben was going to make sure he died a slow, unpleasant death. “You don’t have to volunteer.” But he sure needed her.

  “I do.” She sighed. “Agnes called me just now. Olivia dared me to show, kind of like you did.” Her gaze bounced off his. “And I’m kind of a sucker for taking on responsibilities when I already have my plate full.”

  “I appreciate that, especially given the events and discussions of the past twenty-four hours.”

  “I can get past the kiss. And I can get past you not helping me clean up after the sprinklers went off.” She crossed her arms over her chest and flashed her secret weapon, that smile. “But it’s going to be tough to overlook you telling my boss that the post office was unsafe. He wants to shut it down. Permanently. It took your dad calling him and me begging him for thirty minutes to convince him we can go on.”

  “It’s just the mail. Your life is more important than any bill someone is expecting in their mailbox. Which, I might add, would burn if you don’t upgrade all the electrical in that building.”

  “You had no right. Your dad said we passed inspection.” She was trying hard not to break any eggs.

  “I had every right. It’s my job to protect people. You, Olivia, Utley, even Hannah hangs out there. I can’t let any of you get hurt.”

  “We won’t get hurt,” she said, looking away. “We’re moving processing and sorting to a substation in Cloverdale until the issue is resolved.”

  “That’s fantastic.” She wasn’t smiling. Why wasn’t she smiling? “What’s the big deal?”

  “The big deal is that I’ve been demoted and bumped down a pay grade until my boss decides it’s worth it to reopen here. If he decides to reopen here.” She set her chin stubbornly. “You had no right.”

  “I had every right.” He grabbed her shoulders. “Hannah’s mother died in a fire that started because of faulty wiring. It was a building being renovated. An old warehouse they were converting into lofts. The owner fought every inspection with the same argument you’re making—it’s good enough. They took the city to court twice because they wanted to preserve the original plastered walls. The company in charge of the renovation had a good track record. But the owner was impatient, stubborn. And for what? A unique feature in their sales brochure?” He shook his head. “It burned to the ground, killing two firefighters. So if you think fire safety can be shrugged away... If you think I’ve inconvenienced you, think about Hannah and what she lost.”

  He pulled her closer. “Think about what would happen to Olivia if you were trapped inside that precious post office of yours. Think about those left behind.”

  She held on to his shirt, wrinkling the fire-resistant material. “You’re right. It’s just... I can’t afford the pay cut. I can’t afford to move out of that house.” She shuddered. “I can’t afford the truck to break down. I can’t afford to help Olivia pay for cosmetology school. And at this rate, at my interest, I’ll be paying Olivia’s medical bills until she’s thirty.”

  “Your life sucks.” He held her away from him so he could look at her face and make sure she wasn’t crying. “But you can’t complain, because mine isn’t so great either. Want to fill out an application?”

  She nodded.

  * * *

  A SLEEK SPORTS car parked in front of the firehouse while Mandy was filling out paperwork.

  “If you’re here for the volunteer firefighter meeting,” Ben said to the newcomer, hoping this was one of the dot-com millionaires who lived in town, “come on in.”

  “I’m not here for the meeting.” The newcomer was tall, blond and wore a suit. Charcoal gray. Red patterned tie. A haircut so crisp it looked as if he’d just walked out of the barbershop. The shine on his black leather shoes matched the shine on his black Tesla. He removed his fancy sunglasses, which had probably cost more than Ben’s first car. “At least, I’m not here for that meeting. I’m John Smith.”

  The air seemed too thick to breathe. The station lights too bright. Somehow Ben managed to stay on his feet. Why hadn’t he called Fenway back? At least then he’d have had some warning.

  This was John Smith? Erica’s long-lost boyfriend? Hannah’s dad?

  So much for Ben’s theory that the guy was a deadbeat and a loser.

  He could still be a disappointment.

  Ben hoped for Hannah’s sake he wasn’t.

  “I’m looking for Ben Libby. Something about a bequeath from Erica Thompson’s estate?” John didn’t stop walking until he was within handshaking distance.

  Ben wiped his suddenly sweaty palms on his pant leg before offering his hand. “I’m Ben.” He introduced Mandy, who sat behind him filling out her paperwork.

  She put her pen down and watched the two men.

  “So... Erica.” John assessed the station with a sharp, blue-eyed glance. “I was very sorry to hear about her passing.”

  Ben wanted to ask how sorry. Heartbroken-love-of-his-life sorry? Two-ships-that-passed-in-the-night sorry? Hoping-to-get-some-dough sorry?

  Mandy beat him to the interrogation punch. “How did you two meet?”

  “At Lake Merritt.” John had a million-dollar snow-white smile. “My niece was having a birthday party. Erica brought someone else’s kid. I guess they couldn’t get off their shift. She was something. A force, you know?”

  Ben nodded. He knew.

  What wasn’t clear was what she’d seen in John.

  Hannah’s father gave a wry half laugh. “Erica told me my tie clip could feed a family on the south side of Oakland for a month.”

  “You wore a tie to a kid’s birthday party?” Mandy softened her question with a half smile, as if she and John shared a joke. “On a weekend?”

  Ben was grateful one of them could still smile.

  “I came from a breakfast meeting.” He widened his stance and lowered his voice, going into presentation mode, still flashing all those pearly whites. “I’m in international finance. In my line of work, it pays to look like I’m used to handling large sums of money, no matter what day it is.”

  Ben cleared his throat. “Did you date Erica long? I only ask because...I’ve known her for more than a decade and—”

  “She didn’t mention me.” John’s smile lowered in wattage. Fewer teeth. More human. “We dated about a year. On and off. Mostly off.” He rubbed his forehead, toning his delivery down even further. “Did I leave something at her place? It can’t be all that important after all these years.” He fingered his tie clip.

  Ben fought back a shouting swell of anger. Anger at Erica for not telling John she was pregnant. Anger at John for disappearing from Erica’s life. Anger at himself because he was far from convinced that John was good father material. “Erica had a daughter. She’s seven. And...” The anger clogged his throat. “...your name is on the birth certificate.”

  John dropped a step back. “And you want money from me. The girl needs child support?”

  “No.” Fury fisted Ben’s hands, hardened his voice. “She needs her father.”

  John’s eyes narrowed. “I should explain why Erica and I didn’t work out.”

  “Please do,” Ben said, body still coiled to strike.

  Mandy came to stand next to him. She touched his clenched f
ingers, and a miracle occurred. They loosened. Hers slipped between them.

  John noticed. He rolled his shoulders and attempted a smile. “Look. I spend three weeks of every month out of the country. My job consumes me.” The smile came back full force, attempting to sell his perfectness. “It has to. If I lose focus, I lose my clients’ money, which means corporate layoffs, reduced advertising budgets, cross-business downturns at economy-impacting levels.” He paused to let his importance sink in. “I live and breathe my work. If I had a wife or kids, I couldn’t do what I do.”

  Truth cut at Ben’s insides with a poisonous double edge. With a few minor tweaks, John’s reasons for staying single and not being Hannah’s dad sounded a lot like Ben’s reasons for staying single and not being Hannah’s dad. Didn’t make Ben like him any better.

  John backed toward his car. “I’m sorry. But I’m not your guy.”

  Mandy squeezed Ben’s hand. She was probably ecstatic that John was rejecting Hannah.

  “She looks like you,” Ben blurted. “Blond hair. Blue eyes. Tall for her age.” He didn’t say she had a heart, whereas John didn’t seem to.

  A flash of white teeth. A pat to his smooth blond hair. “I can’t accept she’s mine based on an entry on her birth certificate. You understand.”

  Oh, Ben understood, all right. He understood that John was a selfish egotistical fool. “You’ll take a DNA test. We already sent Hannah’s in. If they don’t match, you’re off the hook.” He was letting John off easy. “In the meantime, maybe you should think about what being a dad means to a little girl who’s lost her mother.”

  John stopped smiling and spun away.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “CAN YOU BELIEVE that jerk?” Ben was still worked up about John’s appearance twenty minutes after John left. He paced the fire station. “He asked about money! And he said he can’t be Hannah’s dad because he’s too busy making money!”

  “I heard.” Mandy had been patiently listening to Ben’s tirade, waiting for him to come out and say John was unacceptable, and that he’d battle to keep Hannah. Not that John seemed willing to put up much of a fight.