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“Who’s the rich guy?” I asked.
“He’s like the son of the Safadi family,” Casey explained. “They own all the Christmas shops in the Midwest. They referred to his father as Mr. Christmas.”
“No, they did not,” I said, grimacing.
“They did, repeatedly,” Casey said. “The reporter even said, ‘Bah humbug.’”
Everyone laughed but me.
“How’s he doing?” I asked, trying to remember what had happened.
“They say he’s alive because of you, Bellabug,” Brian said. “They’ve interviewed his family on the national news. You’re famous.”
“The last thing on earth I want to be is famous.”
“You saved his life, Bella. You could have been killed yourself. They said your quick thinking helped to put out the fire before it engulfed his car.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You told a bystander where the fire extinguisher was and to tell the clerk inside to bring one out,” Dale said.
“You broke the window of the guy’s car and cut his seatbelt,” Brian added. “You got him out of the car and away from the fire. You did a lot for being such a little thing.”
“She probably didn’t eat today yet either,” Dale said, squeezing my arm. “Skin and bones.”
“They’ll do a blood sugar on her. No wonder you passed out,” Casey said, helping me sit up.
“Let’s go,” Brian said.
“I’ll get her coat,” Dale said.
“Bring a blanket, too,” Brian added.
I closed my eyes, letting them take over, exhaustion permeating every square inch of my body.
Brian carried me out to Dale’s car, the largest one of our fleet, and sat in back with me while the girls sat up front chatting about the mystery man whose life I had supposedly saved.
“It’s pretty funny that our resident Scrooge saved the life of the guy they call Mr. Christmas,” Dale said.
“It’s his dad, remember,” I said.
“Oh jeez, look at this,” Dale exclaimed as she pulled into the parking lot of the hospital.
Satellite trucks for all the local Detroit news agencies were lined up at the fence, the police forbidding anyone to come through.
An officer stopped Dale at the driveway entrance.
“We have a legitimate emergency,” she said, showing him her hospital ID. “This is the girl who saved that guy’s life.”
“Dale, no way,” I moaned.
The officer pointed his flashlight into the back seat, blinding me.
“Sorry, miss,” he said, deflecting the beam of light. “Okay, I’ll radio in that you’re arriving. Pull right up to the portico and wait.”
“Much ado about nothing,” I cried.
“Shut up,” Brian said, hugging me. “You should have let the squad bring you in.”
