Frost and Flame (The Firemen of Waterford TN #4)

Chapter 1

Hallie

“I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.”

Dorothy, The Wizard of Oz

“Mommy! Are we still in Maryville?” Mia shouts from the back seat, her voice pulling me out of my thoughts.

I glance back at her, sitting high in her booster seat, eyes wide, taking it all in. She woke up from her car-induced nap when our speed slowed as we entered town.

“No,” I say, smiling at my daughter and then returning my attention to the road in front of me. “We’re in Waterford.”

“It looks the same like Maryville,” Mia says, her face soft with that just-woke-up glow.

I turn down a street that curves into our neighborhood, dipping and rising before the stop sign. I turn left and drive past the staggered houses, separated by driveways and grassy lawns—most of them on lots without any fencing, but a few have low pickets.

Waterford could nearly be a twin to our hometown.

I thought the same thing when I drove through on my first trip here to interview for my position at the fire station.

The historic brick buildings downtown and tree-lined streets feel similar, even though the surrounding hills and low mountains aren’t as pronounced as the Smokies.

“This little town’s adorable,” Mom says from her spot in the passenger seat. “And I need to pee somethin’ fierce.”

“Nana, you can say use the restroom,” Mia corrects Mom. “It’s more polite.”

Mom tries to keep from laughing, but a snort escapes as she shoots me a look that says, Are you kidding me?

I shrug. Some days it’s as if someone tipped our family structure on its head and our roles started sliding in the opposite direction.

I blow out a breath.

“Okay, Miss Queen of England,” Mom says. “I’ll get you tea and crumpets as soon as I set my hiney on a toilet.”

Mia’s eyes go wide and I stifle a smile.

Mia recovers quickly, though. “You can call me Spike. I’m not the Queen of England. I’m going to be the next queen of baseball.”

“Don’t you know it!” Mom says with a laugh. “And I’m going to be the queen of the Depends!”

We pull up in front of the folk Victorian home we’re renting with an option to buy. The wide porch looks as welcoming as I remember, a fresh coat of light-green paint and the white trim with Queen Anne details giving it the appearance of a cottage or dollhouse.

“This is it!” I say just before the moving van pulls up behind us.

I park across the street, leaving the movers room to take the space in front of the house.

“I hope your plumbing works!” Mom says, hopping out of the car and speed-walking to the front door.

“Keys, please!” Mom shouts when she jiggles the doorknob and finds it locked.

She’s stopped just short of crossing her legs, but she’s still bouncing impatiently.

I tell Mia, “Wait here,” and jog across the street to Mom while the silver-haired man next door watches on from his porch with a wry grin on his face and his arms crossed over his chest.

“Never seen a woman who needs to use the john?” Mom shouts over at him. “We’ve been on the road for two hours straight and my bladder’s as old as I am!”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head.

“Nice to meet you!” I yell across the long driveway that divides our two properties, practically shoving Mom through the door after I unlock it.

Mom darts down the hallway, scolding me. “Next time I ask for a pit stop, for the love of Dolly Parton, listen to me!”

“Okay. Okay,” I say, turning to get Mia.

As soon as she’s unbuckled, Mia hops down out of the car and takes in our new neighborhood. Her eyes rove the houses next to ours and then she turns and scans the ones across the street.

“Nice,” she says with a nod. “I hope there’s kids.”

“There will be children here in town,” I assure her. “You’ll make friends in no time.”

“I know that, Mom.” She doesn’t roll her eyes, but I’m certain her voice is a foretaste of years to come. “I just wonder if there’s kids living here, on our street.”

She looks around again. “Hey! That’s a tree house.”

I follow her pointing finger. Sure enough. Four houses up toward the back of the lot, the top of a wooden treehouse sticks up past the neighbor’s roofline.

The movers exit the moving van and lower the ramp. Mom emerges from the house, turning to stare at our neighbor who’s still checking us out from his spot on his porch.

“Retired?” she shouts over.

Internally, I palm my forehead. Grabbing Mia’s hand and keeping my words between the two of us, I say, “Let’s go meet our new neighbor.”

She looks up at me. “Without a plate of cookies?”

“No time for that,” I say with a smile. “We’ve got to head Nana off at the pass.”

Mia picks up her pace.

Mom’s headed straight for the man who looks to be her age or a bit older. He’s eyeing her like a rabbit eyes a coyote. Wise man. Mom’s not mean, but she’s blunt, and sometimes that feels the same to the untrained palate.

“Hi!” I say, raising my hand in the air and waving.

His head turns in my direction.

Mia and I are basically at a trot at this point. Who knows what will come out of Mom’s mouth, and I have to live next to this man for the foreseeable future. First impressions are not my mother’s strong suit.

“Margie. Margie Caldwell,” Mom says to the man. She’s practically storming across his yard.

He looks at her, an expression that’s either amused or bewildered on his face.

“And I’m her daughter!” I say, tugging Mia along and beating my mom to the spot in front of my neighbor’s porch.

“And I’m her granddaughter,” Mia says. “My nana says crazy things sometimes. Don’t let it bother you.”

At this, our neighbor smiles. It’s a nice smile—warm and full of kindness.

“Jonathan Michaels,” he says. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”

“Thank you,” I say. “It’s just Mia and me. We’ll be the ones you’re welcoming. My mom’s only here for moving day.”

Mom stands next to me, her arms crossed over her chest in a mirror pose to Jonathan, eyes roving over my new neighbor with the thoroughness of a crime-scene detective.

“I’m staying a week,” she says, her eyes never leaving Jonathan.

“You’re staying a … ?” This is news to me.

My sister, who lives here in Waterford, had agreed to drive Mom back to Maryville in the morning.

“Ma’am?” one of the movers shouts from across the lawn.

“Oh! Yes?” I temporarily forgot about the massive truck filled with everything we own. I was too busy rushing in to protect our neighbor from whatever my mom was about to say or do.

The mover approaches with an iPad for me to sign. “I’m Shep. Let’s walk the house so you can tell me where you want us to set everything.”

“It was nice meeting you,” I say to Jonathan.

“You too,” he says. Then he looks Mom in the eyes. “And you.”

“We’ll see about that,” Mom says.

“Nana,” Mia says. “Where’s your manners?”

I shoot my mom a warning glance. “Don’t answer that. Please. Let’s go tour the house. Okay?”

Shep walks toward the house.

Mia and I follow him.

Mom takes one more glance at Mr. Michaels and catches up with us.

The floorboards creak just the slightest when I step through the front door.

I smile. There’s something about a home that’s been around a while.

This one was built in 1900. The woodwork details are ones you never see in modern builds.

My chest fills with warmth for the first time in a while.

This is just what we needed—a fresh start in a new town, and our own cozy place to call home.

I point around the room, telling Shep where furniture should go. He follows me into the first bedroom off to the left.

“I don’t know what this room will be,” I say. “You can put one of the queen beds in here and any extra boxes that aren’t labeled.”

“This is where I’ll stay when I visit,” Mom says, popping her head in the doorway.

Mia’s right behind her.

Mom looks down at my daughter and says, “Nana’s room.”

Mia glances around and nods her approval. “You can have this one.”

“It’s a guest room,” I say to Mom. “And that means it’s your room when you’re visiting.”

The past year has been filled with surprises.

The biggest one came in the form of my parents’ divorce.

It’s nearly final. Mom’s planning on keeping our childhood home in Maryville.

Dad already moved out. He doesn’t say anything about where he’s living when we see him, but I suspect it’s already with his secretary-turned-girlfriend.

But he still insisted on covering the cost of the movers.

I tried to turn him down even though the expense would have set us back, but Dad insisted, so I gave in.

“Can I pick my room?” Mia asks.

“I’ve got the perfect one picked out for you,” I smile down at her. “Why don’t I show you and then you can tell the movers exactly where you want your bed and dresser?”

She agrees and we make our way down the narrow hall leading off the living room.

“Those stairs lead up to the attic space and the finished loft,” I tell Mom and Mia, tapping my finger on the door to the staircase.

“We’ll make it into an all-purpose playroom and lounge.

” I turn to Shep. “I want the smaller loveseat and chairs up there.”

Mom opens each door as we move through the rest of the downstairs, inspecting the full bath off the hall and the other three bedrooms—mine, Mia’s, and the one right off the kitchen where my younger sister, Avery, will stay whenever she’s here to care for Mia during my shifts.

I fill Shep in as to which boxes to put where as we enter each room.

“A window seat!” Mia practically squeals when we open her door.

Avery’s voice rings through the house just as we’re stepping into the kitchen, which fills the entire back of the house. My eyes settle on the large island in the middle of the room and then over to the breakfast nook with a bay window bench seat.

“Anybody home?” Avery’s voice carries down the hallway.

“We’re back here!” I shout.

“Aunt Avery!” Mia says, taking off at a sprint down the hall.

“Oof!” my sister says with a laugh. “Man, girly. You have to be careful. You’re getting to be a mighty little beast.”