Page 120 of Smoke and Fire
Bastian:Same. Worse.
Hernandez:Sorry, brother. I’m always here.
I grabbed the sausage, dumped it on a plate, then poured a can of uncertainty-aged marinara sauce into the noodles I’d just drained. While I ate, I completely avoided my computer and the blinking, giant red strobe lights in my brain.
Must. Do. Something. Now.
Disasters waited in my inbox. Bigger disasters than I wanted to admit.I would take care of them, just not right now.
Tomorrow would have to be soon enough.
3
DAHLIA
Red hair appeared in the doorway of the coffee shop the next day, seconds before the door tinkled open. I hummed and bopped to a song when Lizbeth shuffled inside. A basketball-sized belly preceded her.
She smiled wearily.
“Hey.”
Instantly, I hustled over. “Sit down, Mama. You look tired.”
She sighed, seemed to think of protesting, but obeyed. Her hands-on-the-back-shuffle waddle killed me. Adorable. Utterly miserable. Whatever you wanted to call it, late pregnancy looked like it totally sucked. Once she settled, I grabbed another chair for her to put her feet on.
She smiled.
“Thanks. You always seem to know just what I need.”
“I got you, sister. Vanilla frap with extra whip cream and two cherries on top?”
Lizbeth grinned with all her teeth.
“Exactlywhat I wanted.”
I fist pumped. “Nailed it.”
She fell quiet while I bustled behind the counter, prattling about anythingbutthe Jess books. Hands folded and perched atop her adorable almost-ready-to-pop belly, Lizbeth peered out the window and toward the smoke stack with the same smudge of concern I’d had.
“You heard anything about the fire?” she asked.
“Not yet.”
Her brow formed into wrinkled lines.
“Huh.”
“You?”
“Not really, just that they sent a fire crew up there yesterday. Has the loft rented out yet?”
Her voice lifted with a moment of hope, and I hated to dash her dreams. Bethany and Maverick had decided to use the loft of the Frolicking Moose as a HomeBnB instead of leasing it out for months at a time. Lizbeth had spent the last couple of weeks throwing together Pinnable boards, then bringing them to life up there. In between local antique stores and bargain shopping, she’d created a whole new esthetic.
“Mountain chic,” she’d said. “It’s a new thing.”
The whole apartment was put together in a charming, mountain-esque suite that I constantly wanted to live in. A cozy leather sofa. Queen bed made from rough slabs of timber. Pillows so fluffy I could sink into them for hours.
Despite a busy tourist season, renters had been minimal. I suspected Bethany and Maverick kept forgetting to update the listing or set it live or something. Several times they’d forgotten to tell me to expect someone, and renters had come to the Frolicking Moose seeking keys.
