“So maybe it’s a castle.”
“Why not?” Scarlett agreed, trying to hide the fact she was overwhelmed. Brad had told her she could live rent free as long as she wanted, but she’d never planned on living off his generosity for more than six months at the most. There was no way she could ever afford this. However, since Colleen loved Disney princesses, she’d play along. “Brad told me there’s a third floor and lots of stairs.”
“So it’s our castle?”
Scarlett hesitated, but answered honestly. “Yes.” No need to tell Colleen they’d eventually have to move.
Colleen danced her way through the kitchen. “I always wanted to live in a castle. Can we get a kitten? I want a kitten to live with us in our castle.”
“I don’t know about the kitten just yet,” Scarlett hedged, “but we can go explore our new home.”
“Okay. But don’t forget to ask Brad about the kitten.”
They left the kitchen, entered an empty dining room with a beautiful chandelier. Underneath, on gleaming hardwood floors, sat her pathetic excuse for a kitchen table—as if a street ruffian had been let into a ball. She felt as out of place as her table looked. The sliding glass doors to the living room were open, making the two rooms almost seamless. “Look, Mommy! A fireplace!”
“I see.” Scarlett walked through the doorway. Touched the ornate wooden mantel that surrounded the custom, inlaid tile that wrapped around the fireplace.
“I wonder if it works?”
“We’ll have to ask Brad.” She added that to her mental list. During one of their conversations, he’d mentioned he was rehabbing a house and needed someone to stay in it for a while. She hadn’t been expecting this—Google hadn’t done a street view here.
Colleen started twirling—the only thing in the room a floor lamp. “It’s like our own dance studio. Look at me go!”
As Colleen made herself dizzy, Scarlett wondered where the rest of her stuff was.
Colleen regained equilibrium, the large, happy smile on her face one Scarlett hadn’t seen in a while. Her daughter tugged on Scarlett’s arm, already done with the first floor and ready for her next adventure. Except for the small foyer, there were really only three big rooms on this floor, all with twelve-foot ceilings and a multitude of high, thin windows. The side windows looked directly at the brick wall of the neighbor’s house, which was no more than ten feet away. “I want to see my bed.”
“This way,” Scarlett said, heading to the front staircase. This, too, was wood, all re-polished and re-stained. About seven stairs up, there was a small landing with a beautiful rose stained-glass window inset into the outside wall. They made the turn, climbed the rest of the stairs. At the top of the stairs a small hallway opened into a wide, center sitting room. Here they found their living room furniture and television. Toward the back of the house they discovered the rear staircase—which went down to the kitchen and up to the third floor—and a hall bathroom, a hall closet, and a bedroom, this one filled with the boxes containing their old life. Off the sitting room, toward the front of the house, was Colleen’s bedroom, and Colleen found her bed and furniture already in place. The room had been painted a lovely shade of pale pink, and her heart ached. Brad had listened to her when she’d described Colleen’s room back in San Diego. A warm, fuzzy feeling washed over her. He wanted to make Colleen feel welcome. Everything in the room matched perfectly.
Colleen bounced on her bed once. “Where’s your room?”
“I guess the next one,” Scarlett said, checking out her daughter’s closet. Clothes were already hanging. Her parents clearly had concentrated their efforts unpacking items on this floor, and Scarlett bit back the tear that threatened to fall.
“Let’s go find your bed. Maybe it’s this way!” Colleen opened a door, which led into a large oversized bathroom with a walk-in tiled shower and a huge claw-foot soaker tub. “Wow!”
Brad had clearly worked his magic; everything was new. The bathroom, done in Mediterranean blues and greens, felt like being at the beach. She’d only seen these types of bathrooms on those high-end real estate shows on HGTV. Real people did not have double sinks like that.
Colleen pushed open another door. “Here’s your room! Look, the bathroom is a secret passageway.”
“You’re right.” In their old house, they’d all shared one tiny hall bath. This en suite was bigger than her entire bedroom back in San Diego. The master bedroom here, with its ten-foot-tall windows overlooking Victor Street and its ornate fireplace, was larger than probably half her house. Brad’s house was a little overwhelming, and they hadn’t even been on the third floor yet.
“Can I sleep in your bed tonight?” Colleen pointed to Scarlett’s queen-sized bed, which, like the dining room table, seemed to be lost inside the massive space. “Just this once?”
“Of course, you can.” Scarlett drew Colleen into her arms for a hug. Colleen hadn’t slept well the past two nights, despite having gone swimming in the indoor hotel pool first. She was already a fish, much like her state champion father had been. Scarlett had to find more swimming lessons—stat.
“Good. Winnie and I would like to stay with you. And Winnie says thank you.”
“Oh, she does?”
“Yes.” Colleen tossed the doll onto the bed, which Scarlett’s parents had made up. She’d call them in a few minutes. Let them know she’d arrived. Thank them for getting so many things ready. But what would she do with all this space? She didn’t even have enough dishes to fill up the kitchen cabinets.
Not that the house wasn’t beautiful. Having grown up in a tiny brick bungalow, she’d always fantasized about these beautiful old houses. Once, she and her mother had taken one of those house tours featuring the homes on Lindell, across from Forest Park. While this house was smaller than those, it was far too extravagant for two people. Yet now that she was here, she suddenly didn’t want to leave. Wanted this beautiful dream home to be hers, despite knowing dreams were foolish follies.
“Are we getting our suitcases out of the car? Can we unpack?” Colleen tugged on her arm.
“Yes!” Scarlett said, shaking herself out of her doldrums. She missed the blue sky of San Diego, that was all. “Of course we are.”
She carried the majority of the suitcases in two trips while Colleen carried her small one. They set them in the kitchen, and as they finished, the snowfall began to intensify. She allowed Colleen to stand on the back porch. Her daughter had never seen snow, and Colleen leaned over the railing and reached her hand out. “It’s wet!” She tilted her head to the sky and stuck out her tongue. Laughed as she tried to catch the falling flakes.
“Okay, that’s enough,” Scarlett called. “The weatherman says there will be plenty of snow tomorrow.”
Colleen got excited. “Will I get to build a snowman?”
Scarlett couldn’t help but smile. “Yes. Granny brought one of cousin Eileen’s old snowsuits for you, so tomorrow you can go out and play.”
“Yay!” Colleen shivered. “I like snow.”
“It is pretty,” Scarlett admitted, for there was something innately beautiful about fresh white powder. “But let’s get inside since your jacket isn’t warm enough to stay out here long.”
“Okay. It’s cold. Will it always be this cold?”
“No. St. Louis is only cold during the winter. In the summer it will be really hot.”
“Like back home.”
“Yes,” Scarlett agreed, not correcting that this was their home now. She had to admit, snow and cold weather were two of the reasons she hadn’t wanted to return. She’d delayed the inevitable as long as possible. First, she’d needed to wait until the real estate market had rebounded. She and Todd hadn’t lived on the Navy base, and the house they’d bought and intended to fix up had never quite made it to the fixed stage. She’d managed to finally sell it and not be upside down. The proceeds had been enough to hire a moving truck to bring her possessions home, but that was it. She didn’t have enough for a down pay
ment on her own place.
Oh, her parents had offered to pay and help out. But she was thirty. It was time to be a big girl and solve her own problems. Besides, she’d wanted consistency for Colleen, and she’d wanted to grieve near her friends. But slowly, those friendships had faded. Scarlett was no longer a military wife—she was a widow. A daily reminder that what happened to her husband could happen to her friends’ husbands.
As the remaining life insurance ran out, she’d invested practically all of the initial payout into a trust fund for Colleen. She’d realized that the future meant moving to St. Louis. Hopefully two years had been enough time for Todd’s family to grieve. Same for her own. She did not want either of them to see her return as a chance to meddle. Her life. Her terms.
“Mommy, I’m hungry,” Colleen announced, and Scarlett realized it had been hours since they’d eaten last, somewhere just east of Springfield.
“Granny said she’d stocked the fridge,” Scarlett told her.
Colleen looked around the kitchen. “We don’t have a refrigerator.”
“Yes, we do,” Scarlett said, finding it behind the cabinet doors. “See, it’s built-in. And look, Granny filled it all up.” Scarlett pulled out a pound of hamburger, then tried to figure out which cabinet would hold her frying pan. “Let me call Granny and I’ll cook us something to eat. And then we’ll unpack.”
“Yay. Tell her we live in a castle. Can I help?”
Her daughter hadn’t connected that her grandparents had already been in the house. “You may help,” she agreed, not bothering to correct the grammar. “Go wash your hands again. Do you need me or can you reach?”
“I’ll reach. I’ll stand on my tiptoes.”
As Colleen entered the bathroom, Scarlett began opening cabinets, scrounging for her frying pan. She found it in the last one she checked, and called her parents once the burgers were sizzling.
“Hey, we’re here.”
“Good.” She heard the relief in her mom’s voice. “The weatherman said it’s about to get really ugly out there. I’ve been wanting to call you, but not if you were on the road.”
“Well, we’ve arrived safe and sound. Thanks for the groceries. And for the unpacking. And for everything.”
“You’re welcome, although Brad did most of it, including buying food. He’s a good friend, that one. A good man. We can’t wait to see you tomorrow. You use tonight to settle in.”
“We will.” Suddenly, Scarlett didn’t feel like talking. Brad had helped? Hadn’t he already done more than enough? When she’d pressed him a week ago as to why he was helping her, he’d brushed off her concerns. Evaded answering. A wave of pure exhaustion rolled over her. “Hold on. Let me pass you to Colleen.”
She passed Colleen her cell phone. “Hi, Granny! We’re living in a castle,” Colleen told her, and Scarlett could hear the excitement in her voice. “My room is pink. It’s pretty.”
Scarlett found a spatula and flipped the burgers. There were even buns and microwavable macaroni and cheese cups that just required you stir in some water. She pulled two of those out, ripped off the tops, got them ready to cook.
“Granny says she’ll see us tomorrow,” Colleen said, holding out the phone.
“Mom?” Scarlett asked as she put the phone to her ear.
“You rest up tonight,” her mom said. “And be sure to kiss my granddaughter for me. And honey, I love you. It’s going to be great living here. You’ll see.”
After echoing, “I love you too,” Scarlett set her cell down. She found plates, finished cooking. Tonight, like all the rest of the time on the road, the meal lacked vegetables. She’d worry about those tomorrow. Tonight, she just wanted to eat, cuddle with her daughter, and get some solid sleep. Much later, bath time skipped for this one night, both she and Colleen snuggled under the covers and fell fast asleep.
* * *
As Brad Silverman slipped into the churning current of the muddy Mississippi, he ignored the immediate shock caused by entering the frigid water. As a former Navy SEAL, Brad had been through much worse, both during BUD/S and during missions still too classified to talk about.
Today he fought the swift, ice-filled river for the St. Louis Fire Department’s Marine Unit, searching for the man who’d fallen overboard. Unlike Brad, who wore a specially insulated wetsuit that covered every inch of his skin except his eyes—and those were covered with a specialty mask—the man exposed to this water would quickly succumb to the elements in five to seven minutes.
He prepared for the worst. Despite his gear, he could feel the cold. He hoped he’d be in time; he’d dealt with death too often and would prefer tonight not be one of those nights. He nodded to his partner, Lewis Graham, who was forty to Brad’s newly minted thirty. Lew, half-human, half-fish, still competed in triathlons and always won his age group. Despite the rock-hard six-pack abs that Brad had exposed in that god-awful charity calendar he’d been talked into doing, Lew still made Brad, who swam ten miles a day, feel like a proby.
With the St. Louis Fire Department’s Marine Unit Task Force for almost a year, Brad loved his job, especially the thrill and danger of saving people. After leaving the SEALs, he knew he needed a job that kept him active and even though he had to go through the fire academy, he knew he’d made the right choice. “I see him!” Brad called, and together he and Lew retrieved the man, the rescuers on the fireboat reeling in the ropes to pull them all to safety.
“I think he’s alive,” Brad heard someone call as the boat sped across the water. He and Lew leaned back, the subzero wind smacking against their faces. Firefighter paramedics worked on the man they’d rescued, and once on shore, transferred him quickly to the waiting ambulance.
Forty minutes later, back at Station 11, where the task force called home, Brad held a mug of hot black coffee laced with five packs of sugar between his hands. His fingers were numb; the chill of the water hadn’t worn off yet. Worse, the other quint truck had been out on a call, and a blast of cold air seeped into the living quarters as the huge doors opened when it returned home. Brad glanced at the clock. Eight thirty p.m. The sun had been down for almost three hours, and Scarlett should have arrived at the house. Carrying his coffee, Brad retrieved his cell phone from his locker. She’d sent him a brief text, telling him she and Colleen were home and going to bed.
He allowed himself one huge sigh of relief. Even though he’d helped her parents set up her furniture, part of him hadn’t believed she’d really move. Every day he’d waited for her to call and tell him she wasn’t coming, that she’d changed her mind, that she was staying in California.
Scarlett was stubborn, and for two years Brad had watched as she’d refused everyone’s help. He’d listened during their phone calls—ones he’d always initiated. Two years ago, he’d called her monthly and she’d only talked for a few minutes. Then their conversations had grown longer and longer, and he’d called her every other week, then talking weekly for about an hour each time as her other friends drifted away. She’d fought moving back to St. Louis. She hadn’t wanted to be dependent on anyone, especially her parents. He couldn’t blame her. He understood independence and often missed the sun and surf, too, especially on days like today, when he went into an ice-packed river to perform one of the twenty-five to thirty river rescues the department did per year.
He sipped more coffee, and pulled the photo from where he kept it on the top shelf of his locker. There they were, frozen at their graduation. Todd on the left, then Scarlett, then Brad, wearing their robes. The blonde, the redhead and the brunette, his mom had called them. That day they’d vowed to be friends forever. Less than month later, he’d stood by Todd as he’d married Scarlett in a gaudy Vegas ceremony crammed in before they’d started basic training.
Brad reached into his locker, pulling out the manila envelope. He turned it over, studying creases long memorized. He knew the instructions inside by heart. Inside were two letters—one for him and one for Scarlett. Todd had given implicit directions as to
when Scarlett’s letter was to be delivered. Even though he was curious, Brad had never looked at the letter. A man did not question his orders and his best friend’s last request. Whatever Todd had written, it was for Scarlett and for Scarlett’s eyes alone.
A loud noise erupted as the loudspeaker blasted out another call.
Brad quickly put the photo and the envelope back. Closed the locker. Put his coffee mug in a safe spot as he raced for his gear. When not out on the water with the task force, Brad was a firefighter, and he was headed to a house fire, probably another one started by a faulty space heater. They’d had three of those this month already, one with tragic results.
It’s one reason he’d gutted his house and installed all new, top-of-the-line, high-efficiency HVAC. Even with three floors, Scarlett and Colleen would be warm. Now that both were here, he could finally fulfill the promises he’d made to Todd. Maybe then the guilt would stop.
Chapter Two
After sleeping like the dead, it was the strange noises that finally woke her. There was a scraping sound. Then a faint whoosh. She lay in bed with eyes partially opened in the darkened room and tried to place the sound. She sat up in bed as the ten-year-old memory returned. Scrape. Whoosh. Scrape. Whoosh.
Someone was shoveling the sidewalk. First came a gritty push of metal blade on concrete, followed by the whoosh of snow flying. The bedside clock flickered ten a.m., meaning she and Colleen had slept almost twelve hours. She consoled herself that it was only eight in San Diego. She slid out of bed, so not to disturb her daughter, pulled down the T-shirt that had crept up and headed to the front windows. She pushed aside the thick heavy curtain and looked down. At least five inches of snow covered the front porch roof. Beyond that she saw Brad at the end of the front sidewalk, where it formed a T with the sidewalk that ran parallel to the street. Sans hat, glossy dark hair gleamed in the midmorning sun.
Fan The Flames (Man Of The Month Book 3) Page 2