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She read out loud, “Part-time employment with Fire Station #20. Crew members needed for brush abatement. Help your fellow neighbors bring their property up to current safety standards. We cut grass, trim dead trees, and remove brush in a one-hundred-foot defensible radius around the houses in our area.”
“I bet you didn’t know that,” Billy said. “Yep, if you have brush, they’ll remove it so you’re in compliance. It costs, but it’s better than a fine.”
“I’ll look into it,” Emily said. “Thanks, Billy.”
She studied the paper and a little light bulb went off in her head. There were worse things to do during the summer than be outside, getting exercise with a bunch of firefighters.
“I wonder if the firefighters work, too.”
“Jeez, I doubt it. But I get what you’re saying. Maybe I need a part-time job, too,” Kathy said.
“Ah, what?” Billy asked, laughing. “You know I’m the jealous type.”
“You’d better get over it,” Kathy said, grinning. “You know I flirt with everyone, right?”
“Not really. We’re never with anyone when we’re together except for Emily and her father.”
“And I flirt with both of them.”
“Okay, well, I guess I’d better change, then.”
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” Kathy replied, laughing.
Looking at Emily, a grin took over Kathy’s face. “I have a good feeling about this, Emily. Do it. Apply for that job.”
Absentmindedly setting the table, Emily couldn’t wait for morning to come so she could get over to the firehouse and apply for that job.
***
While Emily Porter entertained, at the cabin, Paul Saint lay in bed, at the periphery of that sleep where a body is paralyzed but sounds are starting to seep in. Truck engines rumbled in his driveway. He groaned, rolling over with the pillow covering his head. It didn’t help. He grabbed his phone and squinted. It was nearly five.
Karin Smith didn’t realize Faith Bogart was following her until she pulled into Barney’s driveway.
“What the hell does she want?” Karin mumbled.
Faith pulled up alongside Karin and smiled. “What timing!”
Karin ignored her, gathering up the pan of lasagna and a bag with salad and garlic bread, and opened the truck door. Her heart sank, or more correctly, her anger mounted when she saw that Faith had brought food, too.
“Oh. What did you bring?” Karin asked.
“Fried chicken and the fixin’s,” she replied. “You?”
“Lasagna.”
“It’s kind of hot out for lasagna, isn’t it?”
“He’s Italian. I don’t think they eat by the weather report.”
“You’re so funny, Karin!” Faith replied demurely. She hooked her arm through Karin’s.
Side by side with arms loaded with food, they traveled up the walkway. Since Faith had the free hand, Karin stayed a step back and let her knock. On the inside, Paul peeked through the blinds and groaned when Faith saw him.
Like the gentleman he was, he opened the door, tousle-headed and shirtless. It was obvious they’d gotten him out of bed.
“Oh, yikes, sorry. Bad timing,” Faith said.
“I need to get up or I won’t sleep tonight. We fought that fire on the ridge over by Jones Road all night.”
