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“I didn’t ask anything.”

“You were going to.”

“I was going to ask how Lindsey’s doing.” She gives me a sideways look. “She won’t tell me. She tells me everything, Travis. She told me about her gallbladder surgery in more detail than any human being needs. And she won’t tell me about this.”

I keep coiling the lines. “She’s tough,” I say finally.

“She is.” Cassia stops moving, which I’m learning is rare for her. “I worked for her in the shop for two summers. The woman never once said Danielle’s name. She just touched that necklace whenever it was quiet.” She looks up at me. “She talks to you, though. Doesn’t she?”

I think about the floor of the cooler. The ravine. Her porch, her back against the door, her hands under my shirt.

“Some,” I say.

Cassia studies my face. Whatever she finds there makes her grin. There’s a wicked slant to it.

“Oh, Travis,” she says. “Rob’s going to be so insufferable.”

“He’s already insufferable.”

“Not like this.” She pats my arm. “Be good to her. She’s been taking care of everybody in this town since high school, and nobody ever takes care of her.”

I stand there with a hose in my hands after she walks away. Somebody should take care of her. I’d like it to be me.

At 1600 a silver Buick pulls into the lot, and Nolene Strong, the fire chief’s mother, gets out with a plate of cookies under plastic wrap. I’ve been told that her husband, Martin, fought fires in this valley for thirty-one years, and Nolene fed all the men who did it with him.

Every man in the bay straightens up like a general just walked in.

“Boys,” she says.

“Ma’am,” says the bay, loud enough to echo.

She sets the cookies on the bumper of Engine 1 and walks straight past Rob, Clint and Bear, right up to me and Devin.

She’s about five feet tall. I’ve been in firefights that scared me less.

“You two are the new ones,” she declares.

“Yes, ma’am,” says Devin.

“Sunday dinner. Six o’clock at the Strong ranch. Caleb will give you directions.” She pats my arm. “I’ve invited Lindsey North, too. That girl’s been living on muffins for too long. You can drive her. You live right there, don’t you?”

Rob chokes on a cookie.

“Yes, ma’am,” I say.

“Good.” She heads back to her Buick. “And wear a clean shirt.”

The bay waits until her taillights are gone. Then it goes off. Devin has to sit down on the bumper. Clint is slapping the side of the engine. Cassia has her face in her hands.

Rob comes and stands next to me with his arms crossed, grinning like an idiot.

“Nolene Strong has decided,” he says.

“Decided what?”

“Oh, Sarge.” He claps me on the back. “You have no idea how much trouble you’re in.”

I do, actually. I’ve known since five-fifteen last Friday morning.