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He couldn’t believe it. Coming to Bayberry was truly like stepping back in time. He wondered what other things would surprise him—
“Help!” A woman’s voice yelled from the doorway. Every head in the diner turned to find out what was wrong. “There’s been an accident at the candle warehouse.”
Chapter Seven
A collective gasp filled the room.
Everyone jumped to their feet. There was a stampede for the door.
Kate dropped her spoon in her half-full bowl. She stood, grabbed her coat and followed the crowd. Wes did the same. He paused long enough to drop some cash on the counter. Hopefully it’d be enough for the food and a tip. They rushed outside.
The street was filled with people, all wearing the same worried expression. He too was concerned about the people at the warehouse. He hadn’t toured that part of the facility, but he guessed a lot of people worked there.
At that moment, the firehouse whistle blew. People crowded both the sidewalks and the street. All were headed for the same destination. Wes slipped on a patch of ice. The breath hitched in his throat. His arms flailed about until he regained his balance. He really regretted wearing his dress shoes, but it hadn’t snowed yet in Manhattan, so he hadn’t been thinking about the snow when he’d packed.
Kate paused. “Are you all right?”
He nodded and noticed her laced boots. “Go ahead. I’ll catch up with you.”
He didn’t have to tell her twice. She took off, and he just hoped that in her haste she didn’t slip on the ice too.
He moved aside for the fire truck. Its red lights flashed as the siren wailed. It didn’t have far to go. The warehouse was next to the offices for the Bayberry Candle Company.
Wes inhaled, not catching any hint of smoke. Please don’t let it be that. He was pretty sure a fire at the candle company would be more than a single fire truck could manage.
So what had triggered the cry for help? Whatever it was, the whole town had responded. At the warehouse, people streamed through the doorway, and came to a halt when they spotted a mountain of toppled cardboard boxes next to a tall shelving unit that had been upended by the forklift.
Kate’s aunt struggled to move the debris. “Help clear the boxes.” Her face was red from exertion. “Fred is under all of that.”
Wes eyed the forklift. It couldn’t be moved without risking the rest of the boxes falling. And he had no idea where Fred was trapped.
For that matter, he didn’t see Kate. Though he didn’t doubt she was nearby. He hoped she was careful. Some of the boxes had split open and there was broken glass on the floor.
The fire chief rushed in and started instructing people on what needed to be done. To Wes’s surprise, no one turned away. They worked as a team. A line was formed and items that could be moved without causing any harm to the handlers were moved to the other side of the building. The damaged items were piled outside on the sidewalk and the parking lot.
When enough boxes were moved, Fred’s right leg could be seen, pinned by the compromised shelving unit. The fire department took over, running lines to secure the unit. Penney and other called out to Fred, who responded that he was okay but stuck under the debris.
It was then that Wes spotted Kate. She was standing next to her aunt. Her arm was wrapped around Penney’s shoulders as they watched the rescue.
Wes helped to move the heavy boxes, one at a time. They worked slowly. No one wanted the load to shift and make matters worse. While they worked, Kate and her aunt talked to the man trapped beneath the mess.
Twenty minutes later, they lifted the last box. Fred was flat on his back, conscious but disheveled. Everyone insisted that he not move. Doc Watson made his way through the crowd.
“Okay. Everyone step back.” The doctor carried his black medical bag, and with quick steps crossed to the patient. “Let me have a look at him.”
The onlookers moved toward the door, except for Kate’s aunt. Penney moved closer to Fred. She knelt down next to the injured man. Worry lines bracketed her eyes and mouth.
Wes was able to make his way through the crowd to Kate’s side. He saw similar lines of worry etched upon her lovely face. He longed to wipe away her worry, but all he could offer were a few words of encouragement. “He looks pretty good.”
“Santa just has to be all right,” she said.
“Santa?” His gaze moved from her to the man on the floor of the warehouse.
“Fred is always our Santa for the holidays. He’s really good at it. You should hear his “ho-ho-ho.” He sounds totally legit.”
“I’m sure he’ll be back on Santa duty soon.”
“I hope you’re right. Not because we need a Santa, but because I don’t want anything to be wrong with him. He’s a really great guy.” She didn’t take her gaze off Fred.
