Page 7 of Heating Up (Nugget)
“I’ll figure out something, and if I don’t, I’ll cave and take one of Griffin’s. Okay?”
“You know you’re welcome to stay with us.” Carol said. “You could get allergy shots for the cats.”
Carol lived with her husband and three teenagers in a lovely Victorian on the other side of town. Between the kids’ activities, Vance’s home business—he ran a landscaping and snowplow service—and their menagerie of pets, their lives were chaotic enough without an extra person underfoot.
“Thanks, Carol. Let’s see what Pat Donnelly says I’m looking at here.”
Two hours later, she jetted over to her house to meet with the contractor and Colin Burke, a carpenter who worked with Pat and owned a furniture-making business. She’d already called the Lumber Baron and reserved her room for the rest of the week. Maddy had immediately called her back to say it was on the house, but Dana wouldn’t hear of it. Summer was prime season for the inn. Reminded of how kind everyone was being, she pledged to be more outgoing in the future. She’d lived in Nugget for more than a year, and except for Carol and Griffin, she hardly knew anyone. Her fault, not the town’s residents.
Harlee, Colin’s wife and owner of theNugget Tribune, and Darla, who ran the barbershop with her father, Owen, had repeatedly reached out to her to join their monthly bowling parties at the Ponderosa. She’d always made an excuse for why she couldn’t go.
As she swung into her driveway, a couple of firefighters waved. She supposed they were back to make sure what was left of the structure was safe and sound to go inside. Seeing the house in daylight, the damage looked even worse than last night. The remainder of the wooden siding was charred so black it resembled pictures Dana had seen of war zones. There was an empty hull where the garage once stood—nothing but a concrete pad and splintered piles of wood. Her beautiful bay window had been taken down to the studs. And the roof: completely gone.
Dana took a deep breath, focused really hard on not crying, and got out of the car just as Pat and Colin pulled up. Time to face the music, which she presumed would be to the tune of a complete rebuild. At least she trusted Pat, who she’d recommended to a number of clients who’d bought acreage and wanted to build. In return, Pat had given her listings on a couple of his spec homes in the area, which she’d sold for a tidy profit. His reputation and workmanship were stellar. And everyone vouched for Colin Burke, whose carpentry was artistry.
Pat, a fatherly gray-haired man with a paunch, gave her a weak smile, gazed out over the burned-out shell of her house, and grimaced. “I didn’t realize it was this bad.”
Dana nodded, and for the second time tried to hold back tears. There was no time for crying. Colin walked up to where the front door used to be and was stopped by one of the firefighters from going any farther.
“You got a hard hat?”
Colin went back to Pat’s truck and grabbed two from the bed, tossing one to the contractor before turning to Dana. “We don’t have another one.” Then he eyed her yellow blouse. “Pat has some coveralls back there. After we do a walk-through, you can suit up, use one of the hats, and one of us will take you through.”
“Thanks, Colin. Take your time.”
Captain Johnson waved her over. “The house is stable enough for your workers to go inside. But for safety purposes we’ll need you to put up a fence, or at the very least post ‘keep-out’ signs until Pat either tears down the remaining structure or secures it.” He gave her a gentle pat. “I’m sorry, Dana, but I’m afraid there’s not much in there that’s worth recovering.”
She nodded because she couldn’t speak; her throat was too constricted. Sitting on Pat’s tailgate, she waited for them to finish going through the rubble. Sometime today she’d need to run to Reno, get a new cell phone, and check in with her parents. Then she’d have to figure out what to do about a permanent living situation.
She felt eyes on her and looked up to see Aidan McBride.
“Those your contractors?”
“Mm-hmm.”
He sat next to her. “You gonna rebuild?”
“What choice do I have?”
“Sell, buy something else.”
She let out a breath. “There’s not much available in Nugget proper. Lots of ranches, farms, and land for sale on the outskirts, and there’s Sierra Heights. But I was lucky to find a home in this neighborhood that I could afford. There are a few things for sale in your new neighborhood, but this part of town is a better investment.”
Quite frankly, his side of town was shabby, a neighborhood developed in the 1920s for the town’s heavy influx of railroad workers. And while vintage homes were extremely marketable, the bulk of them were small, rundown, and too close to the railroad tracks. As a result, she’d always had trouble selling over there.
Nugget, forty-five minutes from Reno and four hours from San Francisco, had always been a blue collar town, made up mostly of train employees, ranchers, and farmers. Her neighborhood, though, felt middle class. The yards were landscaped and the homes—mostly ranch style, built in the 1970s and ’80s—freshly painted.Pride of ownershipis what they called it in real estate lingo.
“Look,” he said, “I know there isn’t a lot around here for rent, and while your professionalism was commendable this morning, I could see in your eyes how disappointed you were to lose Tawny’s place. It just so happened that timing wise it worked out perfectly for me. Otherwise, I’d be camping at my sister’s place, which I could still do until I find something else. Or”—he hesitated—“you and I could share the house until yours is rebuilt. It’s a two bedroom, and between my twenty-four-hour shifts at the firehouse and being called out on arson cases, I’ll hardly be there. I’m still trying to sell a condo in Chicago, so it would help me with the rent. I’ve got enough furniture to fill the place. All you would need is a bed.”
It was an extremely generous offer, Dana thought. And it would save her from having to live next door to Griffin and Lina. But she didn’t know the man from Adam. He could be a serial killer. Unlikely, given that his sister was a cop with the Nugget Police Department, but you never knew.
“Think about it,” he said, and tore a piece of paper off his clipboard, jotting down a telephone number. “You can reach me there. I’ll be over at the house during the next couple of days getting it ready to move in.”
“Tawny hired professional cleaners,” Dana blurted, because she and Carol would never rent out a dirty house.
“The place is spotless,” he assured her. “I got a new flat-screen in Reno and want to install the surround sound. I’ve also got a washer and dryer coming. No sense moving my old ones cross-country.”
She supposed that was true. “I’ll let you know by the end of the week. And thank you, Mr. McBride, the offer . . . it’s above and beyond generous.”
