by Becki Willis
“Too bad I finished my gig at Cessna Motors, or I could get you a sweet deal on a new ride.”
“You still have connections,” Genny pointed out. “Your uncle owns the dealership.”
“We can stop by on our way back,” she offered.
“Nah, I’m not ready to buy a new car just yet. It’s probably just the battery or something.” She hopped up from the booth. “Okay, I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll pull around back and pick you up there.”
After telling the staff her plans, Genny stopped by her office to grab her purse. When she stepped hastily into the hall, she ran headlong into a solid body. She bounced backward from the impact, blinking up in surprise.
“I’ve had it, Genesis!” the man snarled. Barry Redmond’s lip curled in anger, reminding her of a pit bull. His face had an odd pinkish purple hue.
“What—What are you talking about?” Her eyes narrowed. “And what are you doing here? Cutter threw you out a couple of months ago.”
“That kid can’t throw me out of here! Who does he think he is?”
Genny put her hands on her hips, showing more bravado than she felt. “Doesn’t matter,” she insisted. “I’m the owner, and I’m throwing you out.”
“Not before I deliver my message.” Barry shoved a finger in her face, almost touching her nose. “You tell your friend to stay the hell out of my business! This is my last warning. If she doesn’t, you’re both going to be sorry.”
Genesis swatted his finger away like a pesky gnat. “I assume you are referring to Madison.”
“Of course I’m referring to Madison. The two of you are like opposites sides of a bad penny. And not worth a single cent, combined!”
“If we’re so worthless, what’s the fuss all about?” Genny asked coolly.
“She knows damn well what the fuss is about. You tell her to mind her own business.”
“I’m not your messenger, Barry Redmond. If you were half the man you think you are, you’d be man enough to deliver your own messages.”
“Don’t worry, little Genny, she’ll get the message,” he threatened darkly. His voice was a snarl. “She messes with what’s mine, I’ll come after what’s hers.”
“That sounds distinctly like a threat.”
“Take it how you want. Just watch your back.”
“Get out,” she ordered. “And this time, stay out.”
She shoved past him and marched out the back door. Menu plans for the fish fry were forgotten as she climbed in the car and relayed the episode to Madison.
“I’m sorry, Maddy. I should never have said what I did, telling him to deliver his own message to you. I don’t want him anywhere near you. To tell you the truth, I think the man is unstable.”
“I’ve wondered about that myself. He probably found out Lisa met with Shawn Bryant the other day, but I had nothing to do with it. I have no idea why Barry thinks I’m still meddling in his affairs.”
“Maybe all that moldy money has released toxic fumes and eaten his brain,” Genny mused. “And it must be wreaking havoc on his blood pressure, too. Because you’re right. He turns an interesting shade of purple when he gets angry.”
***
“My, my. Two visits in two weeks. I am, indeed, a lucky man.”
Carson greeted them with his customary warmth and grace. Today he wore a pale blue linen outfit, loose and comfortable and totally out of place in River County, Texas. On him, the look worked.
“I’m sorry to drop in on you on such short notice,” Madison said. She had called while waiting on Genny.
“No problem. I have just finished my last class of the afternoon. I have another this evening, but you have my undivided attention for the next hour and a half.” When his eyes fell upon Genny, Madison somehow doubted his claim.
“I promise not to take that long. I just have a few questions I wanted to ask you.”
“Certainly.” With a sweeping arm movement, he ushered the women inside and up the stairs.
Once they were settled again in his private study, Madison told him the reason for her visit. He was so busy ogling Genny, she wasn’t sure he listened.
“I wanted to ask you about a fire you experienced about five years ago. I understand you lost your new home to the blaze?”
“Yes.” One word, but his heavy sigh said so much more. “The touch-up paint was still wet. I did the walk-through that afternoon, signed the papers, and took the key. I planned to move in the very next morning. That night, the entire house burned to the ground.”
“That’s horrible!” Genny’s soft cry was filled with empathy.
“What was the cause of your fire?” Madison asked.
“Faulty wiring in the exhaust vent over the stove.”
Madison perked up at the mention of the vent. It sounded much like the case with Montelongo’s and Ray Sams’ motor home. “Oh? Do you happen to know who the manufacturer was?”
“Absolutely. Allied Industries. I took them to court and won. It seems they had installed an experimental exhaust system without my knowledge. They had applied for a patent on the product but it was still in the approval stages and not fully tested for residential use. Long story short, I lost my house but won the lawsuit.”
Allied Industries. Her research revealed they were partners with A+ Fire Systems on a revolutionary new system that turned out to be not-so-revolutionary.
“I’m very sorry for your troubles,” Madison murmured. “I suppose you had insurance?”
“Yes, absolutely. It was a condition of my loan, actually. My policy covered litigation costs, so in the long run, I came out ahead, at least financially.”
“Yet you did not build again on the same lot.”
His expressive mouth turned downward in a frown. “That turned out to an odd situation. After everything was said and done, the bank came back with a claim that the lot ownership reverted to them. It was a small clause, buried deep within the boilerplate of the contract, that said if for any reason the intended use of the property was changed or altered, I had thirty days to notify the bank in writing. Without the proper notification, the land used as collateral would revert to the bank.”
“That’s awful!” Genny cried.
“To be honest, after the fire and the trial and all that was involved, I was glad to be rid of the place. I had more than enough money to relocate elsewhere.” He flashed a bright smile as he spread his arms wide. “As you can see, it turned out quite well for me.”
“So what made you choose Juliet?” Genny asked. “I believe I read somewhere that you grew up in the Panhandle?”
He smiled, obviously pleased that she had researched him. “That is correct, I was born in the Panhandle and lived there until I was in grade school. I much prefer this area of Texas, however, with its gently rolling hills and many rivers. And the people here are so delightful.” He flashed her a flirtatious look.
“So the fire was a blessing in disguise, luring you away from Riverton and closer to Juliet and The Sisters,” she murmured.
“It would definitely seem that way.”
Madison mentally rolled her eyes. First Granny, now Genny. I can’t take these two anywhere!
“Mr. Elliot—” she began.
“Carson.”
“Carson, do you know what, if anything, your fire had in common with a handful of other fires in the area over the past few years?”
His brow puckered in thought. “You know, Gloria asked me the same thing. But I’ll tell you what I told her. I have no idea. I had just moved to the area when my house burned.”
“So Gloria never mentioned anything specific about these fires to you?”
He had the grace to look ashamed. “I must admit, I thought she was overacting, as she was prone to do. Gloria insisted there was a bigger mystery behind the fire that took my home, but I’m afraid I did not take her seriously.” He pursed his lips in thought. “I do recall that one of the people she mentioned was Ray Sams. I talked with him before the tri
al. He had a fire similar to mine in his motor home.”
Madison leaned forward in interest. “What can you tell me about that?”
“I know they settled out of court and the company paid handsomely to keep their name out of the news. Launching a new product line as they were, they could not afford the negative publicity.”
“Probably not,” she agreed. So, Ray Sams had received a settlement.
Carson’s eyes grew worried. “Are you thinking Gloria was right? Was she close to uncovering something?”
Madison nodded slowly. “I think it might be a possibility.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
A cook called in sick, so Genny returned to the restaurant to cover the dinner rush. A few hours later, she gladly flipped the sign on the door and proclaimed the restaurant Closed. Twenty minutes after her last employee left, she had the cash register settled, the bank deposit made out, and all alarms set for the night.
She drove one block to the Naomi State Bank and dropped the bag into the night deposit. As she pulled away and circled through the parking lot, her car sputtered.
“Ah, come on, not now!” she wailed, banging on the dashboard. The motor responded with a giant shudder and promptly died. “Great. Just great,” she muttered. She manhandled the steering wheel, coaxing the vehicle halfway into a parking space before the wheels locked.
She grabbed her phone and was about to call for help when a familiar truck drove up beside her.
“Problems?” Cutter asked through the opened window of his pickup.
“My car just died!”
“I’ll have a look,” he offered. Leaving his own diesel engine running, he jumped from the cab and came around to Genny’s much smaller sedan. “Pop the hood.”
After several minutes of poking and prodding around the engine, Cutter admitted defeat. “We’ll get Jolly Dewberry to come out in the morning and see what the problem is. Just leave it here tonight. I’ll give you a ride home.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m going right by your house, on the way to mine,” he assured her with an easy smile. He opened her car door and helped her transfer into his truck. A few minutes later, they roared out of town.
Halfway down the ribbon of asphalt, the radio on Cutter’s belt squawked to life. He groaned when he heard the familiar tone out. The series of unique tones was followed by the dispatcher’s voice.
“River County SO to The Sisters Fire Department. Sisters Fire, there is a large grass fire reported off County Road 238, approximately five miles north of the Naomi city limit. The caller advises there is a barn filled with hay within two hundred yards of the fire. Repeat. A large grass fire off County Road 238, five miles north of Naomi city limits.”
“That’s Bob Peterson’s place.” Cutter pulled his radio out and barked into the receiver, “Unit 339 responding. I’ll grab a brush truck and head that way.”
“10-4, 339. The caller advises the fire is moving quickly and has already covered about five acres. It’s approaching a heavily wooded tree line, as well as the barn filled with hay.”
“Go ahead and tone out Riverton Fire Department for assistance,” Cutter instructed the dispatcher.
Instead of slowing down to make a U-turn, he sped up as they continued down the road. “Turn around, Cutter,” Genny urged. “I can find a ride home.”
“We’re more than halfway to your house. I’ll drop you off and come back to town.”
“Are you sure?”
The radio toned out again. “River County Sheriff’s Office to The Sisters Fire Department. Sisters Fire, be advised the grass fire on County Road 238 is growing rapidly and has almost reached the tree line. The landowner’s employee tried to cut a perimeter around the barn but was overcome with smoke. The tractor is now fully engulfed and the fire is within a hundred feet of the barn. We have Riverton Fire en route for assistance.”
Cutter edged the speedometer needle upward.
“Turn around. Honestly, I don’t mind,” she said.
“I’m seeing you home, Genny.”
“Then at least drop me at the road. I can walk to the house.”
“Absolutely not. I’m seeing you inside.”
“Cutter, that fire is moving fast.” The road curved, giving them a clear view of the red-tinged night sky. “And it looks huge.”
More traffic on the radio demanded his attention. By the time he listened to the update, he swung into her driveway and pulled up to the house. “I’ll wait until you’re inside,” he compromised. “Flash your porch light and lock your door.”
“Yes, Daddy,” she agreed with false sweetness. She paused as she opened her door and hopped out. “Seriously, Cutter, be careful tonight. That fire sounds dangerous.”
***
Genny heard sirens all through the night, racing back and forth to the fire. The turn-off for County Road 238 was a half mile from her house, so the clang and clatter of fire trucks, heavy equipment, and emergency personnel echoed especially loud in the still of night. She was awake much of it, worrying. She glanced out her window often, thinking of Cutter and the other men and women who put their lives in harm’s way to save a neighbor’s property. The telltale glow in the sky confirmed her fears; the fire still raged.
By morning, a lingering haze muddled the air and smoke rode in on the southern breeze. She hadn’t talked to Cutter since he dropped her off the night before. She wanted to know that he and the other firefighters were safe, but of course her peace of mind took a backseat to fighting fire.
She was on her second cup of coffee when the doorbell rang.
“Who is dropping by at this time of morning?” she muttered. A glance at the clock told her it was a few minutes shy of eight o’clock. Just before she swung the door open, she thought to glance out the side window.
“Cutter!” she exclaimed as she worked the locks free.
The firefighter stood on her doorstep, looking haggard and worn. He had on the bottom half of his bunker gear, a rumbled shirt she remembered from last night, and a cloak of weariness. Smoke, smudge, and a five o’clock shadow darkened his face.
“Come in, come in,” she insisted, opening the door wider. “You look terrible, by the way.” And sexy. Incredibly sexy, soot and all.
He glanced down at his attire and shook his head. “I’m a mess. I just thought I’d stop by, see if you wanted that ride into town when I drop off the firetruck. We can call Jolly and have him meet us there.”
“You’ve been out all night?” she cried in dismay.
He nodded confirmation. “We finally got it under control. We had to call in the Forestry Service, but it’s ninety percent contained now. We handed it over to a fresh crew from Riverton and we’re headed in to rest.”
“So you haven’t eaten?”
“Someone brought donuts out to the command center early this morning, but they were gone by the time I got off the truck.”
“Then get in here. I’ll cook you breakfast.” She tugged on his arm.
“I can’t. I’ll make a mess on your floor.”
She peered at his bunker gear. “Do you have jeans on under there?”
“Of course.”
“Take off the grungy pants and the boots,” she ordered. “I’ll start breakfast.” She turned away before he could argue.
Shedding the filthy clothes on her front porch, Cutter padded inside on his stockinged feet. Seeing no signs of her in the neatly arranged living room, he wandered into the hall and found the bathroom, where he washed his face and hands. By the time he was done, he simply followed his nose to the kitchen. Hints of cinnamon and frying bacon floated on the air, pulling him forward like a puppet on a string.
He stopped at the kitchen door, taking in the sight of Genesis in her domain. The room was rather small and dated, and not at all what he expected of a professional chef. Yet somehow the knotty pine cabinets and cheery blue and yellow checkered curtains suited her. The red cherry motif scattered across the room had a vintage look and feel, a
nd was a perfect match for the rest of the space. It was impossible to step into the room and not feel uplifted, particularly with Genny in the picture.
She was like a ray of sunshine, filling the small space with her energy. Still dressed in her nightclothes, a flimsy t-shirt that said Instant Human: Just Add Coffee, a pair of white sleep shorts, and turquoise toenail polish, her blond hair was mussed and her face devoid of makeup. Cutter had never seen a more beautiful woman.
“It’s almost done,” she promised, smiling over her shoulder. “Help yourself to the coffee. Cups are in that cabinet there.”
Cutter poured them each a cup of the dark aromatic brew and carried it to the table, a yellow Formica and chrome dinette set straight out of the 50s.
“It’s not fancy, but it should fill you up,” she proclaimed as she plated their food. His plate had several slices of bacon and a huge pile of fluffy scrambled eggs, spiked with chunks of ham and cheddar cheese. Her plate held half as much. A third platter boasted a small stack of thickly sliced French toast.
His mouth watered as he looked at the feast before him. “This is enough for the whole department.”
“Invite them over and I’ll feed them, too,” Genny offered. She moved back to the stove and swirled a pat of butter into the maple syrup she heated.
“Are you kidding? I’m not sharing you with them!”
She poured the buttery mixture into a gravy boat and brought it to the table. “Milk or orange juice?”
“Milk. And quit hopping around. Come sit down and eat with me.”
“Go ahead and start. I’ll just get the milk.”
Cutter groaned with satisfaction as he took the first few bites of his meal. “Don’t tell me I could have been eating this for breakfast every morning at the restaurant and just now realized it.”
“This is the home version,” she assured him.
“This is heaven. Pure heaven.” He closed his eyes and savored his second slice of French toast. A hint of brown sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg mingled with the buttered maple syrup to delight his taste buds.
“The secret is pure maple syrup from Vermont.”