Page 6 of The Great Maple Mistake

Well, what else can I say but yes? “Absolutely.”

“There you go.” He grins at Chief Brennan, then at me, still holding my hand.

My cheeks warm, and I can practically feel the chief’s eyes boring into the back of my head. “Anyway, sorry to interrupt your”—I wave my free hand in the direction of the papers on the table—“paperwork. I should let you get back to it and not take up more of the chief’s time than necessary.”

Before he releases my hand, Cody looks into my eyes and I lock my knees so I don’t swoon. “It was great seeing you. Now that we’re friends, maybe we can hang out sometime? I don’t know what everyone does for fun around here, but I’m pretty easy-going. I’d be up for whatever you like to do.”

Again, there’s nothing but pure sincerity in his gaze. Who is this sweet and earnest anymore? “I’d love that.”

The chief’s voice slices through my rose-colored fog. “If you two are done flirting, I have a fire station to run.”

Shit. “Sorry, Chief.” I squeeze Cody’s hand once and pull out of his grasp. “Talk to you later, Cody.”

“Yes, please.” He grins, watching us continue down the hall into the chief’s office. I know because I keep glancing back, and every time I do, his eyes are still on me.

Chief Brennan drops into his desk chair and motions for me to take a seat. “What can I do for you, Alex?”

I start off with the easy stuff, hopefully disarming him before I hit him with my brand-new idea for next year’s fundraiser.

“One of the reasons I’m here is to ask for the firehouse’s participation in The Great Maple Cook-Off.”

The chief grins for the first time since I arrived. “You want some of the guys on a standby crew in case something goes up in flames?”

He’s joking, I think, but he’s actually hit the nail on the head. “Hopefully there won’t be unintentional flames, but you never know. This is our first year, and we’re not really sure about the skill level of our participants.”

“Good point. Okay, yes. We’ll have a truck and a crew there. We already have EMTs at all the festivals, just in case someone gets injured. And if there are fireworks, thenweset them off and have a truck on standby. So it does make sense to have a truck there for a cooking event.”

“Thanks, Chief. That’ll be a load off of everyone’s minds. And hopefully the event will raise a lot of funds for local food banks. Do you need the dates and times?”

Chief shakes his head. “Nah. We got a full calendar from Bo Boyd at the beginning of the festival season.”

“Excellent.” I mentally psych myself up and hit him with the second reason I’m here. “Speaking of fundraisers, I was hoping to talk to you about a new firehouse fundraiser.”

He reaches for a bowl of almonds on his desk and frowns as he pops one into his mouth. Chief is very particular about his fundraisers, which is why this could be a tough sell. Right now, the firehouse does a pancake breakfast in May and a spaghetti dinner in August. They also host Bingo on the last Sunday of every month. “What did you have in mind?”

Here goes nothing. “A firefighter calendar.” I hold up my hands, hopefully staving off any interruptions until I give him the full pitch. “I’d donate my time to take the pictures, and I’ve already been scoping out ways to cut down on the costs of printing. We could sell small ad spots each month and have fire safety tips and other stuff, like reminders to change batteries in smoke and carbon monoxide alarms. There are firehouses that do one every year, and some make tens of thousands of dollars doing it.”

Chief’s frown hasn’t disappeared, and that’s not good. Hopefully it’s just his thinking frown and not his reject-the-idea frown. If he says no, I don’t have much hope of changing his mind. He tosses another almond into his mouth then holds the bowl out to me, but I shake my head. Setting them aside, heplants his elbows on the desk and leans in. “You mean like one of those shirtless calendars? I can’t force my people to pose for something like that. Most of the guys might not mind, but we have two women firefighters.”

“It would be completely voluntary, and shirtless or wearing a shirt would be up to the firefighter.”

He still doesn’t seem sold, so I bring out my one big gun. “The New York City fire department made one hundred fifty thousand dollars on their calendar.” Chief’s eyes go wide, but I keep going. “If we could make even a fraction of that, it would be fantastic.”

“But we could lose our shirts—no pun intended—paying for printing costs, if we don’t sell any.”

He’s not wrong, but I’ve covered my bases. “That’s where the advertising space comes in.” I make a mental note to thank Dad later for the snippets of advertising and marketing I picked up over the past thirty-five years. “Like I said, if we get local businesses to place ads in the calendar, that should cover printing costs. So even if it flops, the firehouse isn’t out any money.” That has his attention. “What if I got the sponsor commitment before we even get to pictures? That way you’ll know the calendar is funded. And if we can’t raise enough to cover costs, then we scrap the idea and you’re no worse off than before.”

Chief’s eyes lose focus as he considers. “Okay. You get the sponsors lined up, and I’ll get the firefighters. We still only have twenty-two right now, since Tom Pritchard retired and Cody came to replace him. We might be able to convince twelve of them to volunteer.”

I can’t contain my grin. Ever since the town hired me to improve their social media presence and upgrade the city website, I’ve been trying to shake things up a bit and get people thinking past the same old tired ways of doing things. Hencethe cook-off and calendar. “That’s great! I’ll get started on it this week and stop by to give you an update the week after that.”

“Sounds good.” He stands, so I do too. “I’m gonna head back out to the parking lot and make sure my truck looks spotless.” He holds out his hand, and I shake it. “Good luck, Alex. I look forward to hearing about your progress.”

He gestures for me to precede him out of the office, and I take a moment to enjoy my small success. As I pass the conference room, I glance inside, but Cody isn’t there anymore. Disappointment turns to doubt as I step outside and cross the parking lot to my car. Have I ever done anything like this? Not on this scale. But stopping by local businesses and getting sponsors to cover printing costs shouldn’t be difficult. Right? And even if there are firefighters who don’t want to participate, surely twelve of them will. Hopefully. Maybe. Oh hell.

What’ve I gotten myself into?

Chapter 4

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