Page 39 of A Spot of Trouble
“Okay, boy and girls, who knows what these are?” Sam pulled a book of matches out of the pocket of his uniform cargo pants.
“Matches!” the children yelled.
Next, Sam removed a small plastic lighter from his pocket. “And what about this?”
“My dad uses one of those to start the grill after he catches a fish,” the little boy on the front row said proudly.
“That’s right.” Sam nodded. “It’s a lighter.”
He held the matches and lighter up high in the air.
“Cinder, is it okay for kids to play with these things?”
The Dalmatian immediately collapsed to the floor, covered her eyes with one of her paws, and let out a mournful whine.
Sam nodded. “That’s right. It’s not okay at all, because playing with matches and lighters isn’t safe.”
His audience—Hazel the librarian included—clapped wildly and marveled at Cinder. The Dalmatian’s tail thumped gleefully against the carpeted floor.
“Cinder, what should someone do if they find either of these things lying around somewhere?” Sam said, and then he tossed the book of matches about ten feet away, where it fell beside a display of the summer’s hottest beach reads.
Cinder sprang to her feet, ran to snatch the matches with her teeth, and promptly trotted over to the rocking chair where Hazel sat and dropped them in her lap.
“Good girl,” Sam said. “If you find a lighter or matches while you’re playing, you should always take them to an adult.”
The kids dissolved into cheers and excited giggles, while Hazel gaped at the book of matches resting on her thighs. “This dog is a genius!”
According to Sam’s watch, only five minutes remained of the half-hour presentation, so he let the children pet Cinder, two at a time. Then he gave them each temporary tattoos featuring a Dalmatian in a firefighter hat, along with a coloring book about fire safety. With any luck, most of what he’d tried to teach the kids would sink in, even after they’d gone back to building sand castles and digging holes on the shore.
“Thank you so much for coming. I’d heard so many great things about you and Cinder, but that was beyond my wildest dreams. You two are just fantastic.” Hazel rested a delicate hand on Sam’s forearm.
Cinder’s dark eyes swiveled toward the librarian and she let out a quiet growl of warning. Sam blinked. Hard. Cinder never behaved this way.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “She—”
“Oh, no worries. I don’t blame her for being a bit jealous.” Hazel laughed and crossed her arms. “Actually, I was wondering if you might like to go to bingo with me tonight? If Cinder doesn’t mind, that is.”
Bingo night.
The event was already marked in Sam’s calendar with a gigantic star beside it. He’d be there, all right, but in his official capacity, not on a date.
Thank goodness, because he wasn’t sure how else he would have been able to gracefully decline Hazel’s invitation. “I’m sorry, but…”
She waved a hand as her cheeks flamed pink. “It’s fine. I’m sure you’re busy. I just thought it might be nice. Thank you again for coming to do story hour this morning.”
And then, before Sam could utter another word, she dashed toward the circulation desk and began checking out books to Sam’s young audience. Cinder trotted to the end of her leash and strained toward the door.
Sam felt himself frown. “What has gotten into you?”
The Dalmatian inched closer toward the exit.
Message received. Cinder was ready to go, and honestly, Sam was too. He didn’t usually let his dog call the shots, but in this case, he’d make an exception.
***
Violet pressed the button on her handheld butane culinary torch and ran its slender blue flame deftly over the cupcake in her hand, toasting its Italian meringue topping to a delicate golden-brown.
Perfect.
