I know I’m like the Grinch, Ebenezer Scrooge, or some equally awful holiday fun-hater, but I can’t go back to that festival.
“Ellie?” I say her name so quietly I’m not sure she’ll hear me.
“Yes?” She turns around, her eyes wide.
There are so many things I want to say, but the words get lodged in my throat. “Thanks again for the coffee.”
A shadow falls across her face as she forces a smile and leaves my office, pulling the door shut behind her.
My heart sinks, and the corners of my eyes burn. I take a sip of my latte, but apparently, the coffee isn't hot enough to thaw the ice around my cold, dead heart.
Later that evening,I fold my legs beneath me like a pretzel on the couch and prop my laptop on a pillow in my lap. My fingertips click across the keyboard, typingLoving Fire Departmentinto the search bar.
“Let’s just see about this firefighter,” I say to myself as I reach for my wine on the table beside me.
When the page loads, I scroll until I see pictures from the department’s recent food drive. There are several uniformed men and women in the photos—a couple of the guys look like they could be Lindsey’s grandfather, and I certainly wouldn’t describe them as “hot”— but further inspection reveals a few possible contenders. There’s a blond with beefy arms that looks like he could be in that Thunder from Down Under show Rose dragged me to years ago, and a man with whiskey-colored hair and an upturned nose who doesn’t strike me as Lindsey’s type. Not that I know much about what that is these days.
The captions don’t reveal any names, so I continue my scrolling, hoping to see Oliver jump out at me. I pass posts about their annual Trunk or Treat, and I’m watching a short video of them riding in the Loving High School homecoming parade when my phone rings from beside me.
I don’t even have to check the screen to know it’s Rose doing her nightly check-in, so I swipe and put her on speaker.
“Well, are you still breathing?” she asks before I can even manage to say hello.
I click on a photo from the department’s presentation at the high school about the dangers of drinking and driving. Again, some very attractive people, but no one I think would have elicited the glow on my daughter’s face when we spoke about him. Lindsey doesn’t get excited about just anyone. Whoever this guy is has to be some kind of Prince Charming, and none of these men fit the bill.
“If I wasn’t, do you really think I’d be answering the phone? I’m just having some wine.” I swirl it in my glass, clicking the trackpad to enlarge another picture.
“What are you doing, Myra Jean?” Her voice burns like an interrogation lamp. “I hear you over there tapping away on that damn computer. You know that thing will rot your brain.”
“If you must know, I’m trying to see what I can find out about this Oliver fellow.”
“In that case, proceed. Have you found anything yet?”
“Not really. A couple of possibilities, but nobody who—” I stop midsentence when I see him. He’s got warm brown eyes and dark hair that’s just unkempt enough to tell me he doesn’t take himself too seriously. His smile is kind and framed by the tiniest scar above his upper lip. I read the short post that accompanies the picture:The Loving Fire Department is pleased to welcome Oliver Beckett to the crew.
“Myra Jean,” my sister says. “Did you find him?”
“Yes, I did, and he’s cute too.”
“A handsome firefighter.” She sighs into the phone. “Isn’t that the dream? Makes a girl want to fall and not be able to get up, if you catch my drift. Or maybe set a small fire. Not a big one, though, just enough to?—”
“That’s brilliant.”
“Isn’t it?” she asks, and then quickly adds, “Wait. What is?”
I snap the laptop shut and plop it on the cushion beside me.
“I want to meet this guy, Rose,” I say. “Didn’t you see Lindsey? How happy she looked? I think there could be something special about this one, but I want to see for myself. I’ll stage a little fall. It’s a small department, so the chances of him coming on the call are high, and if he’s really as great as he sounds, maybe I can—I don’t know—give Lindsey a little nudge in the right direction.”
“That’s a terrible idea,” Rose trills in my ear. “There are about a million and one reasons why this is a disaster waiting to happen. Not to mentionhighlyillegal. Besides, you’re aterribleactress.” She sputters out a laugh. “Remember when you tried to tell the kids their goldfish went to live at SeaWorld?”
I do. They were so insistent upon calling SeaWorld to ask Goldie to come home that I finally had to come clean and tellthem their beloved fish had made her final voyage straight down the toilet. The kids were traumatized for weeks.
“Come on, Rose. You saw how excited Lindsey was. She deserves to find someone who loves her—to settle down and be happy. She needs this, okay?Ineed this.”
Rose clicks her tongue. “You know you shouldn’t meddle in the affairs of others.”
“That’s certainly never stopped you before,” I say, and I can practically hear the smile that forms on her lips.
