Chapter 8
Dawn’s low-cut sundress gave Warren quite a view. Flustered, he grasped for words to answer her question.
“Sure thing,” he said a moment too late. He wanted her to like him instead of being his enemy. Maybe if he opened up a bit and let her see his softer side, she’d be more willing to agree with him. “Hamburgers were a big treat for me and my brothers growing up.” He zipped the bag of cheese closed.
“Were your folks health nuts?”
“No.” Warren turned off the grill then reached down and closed the propane tank. “But my two brothers and I could go through a dozen burgers, easy, and that gets expensive.” Now, he thought of ground beef as being cheap and realized just how difficult stretching their meager paychecks must have been for his parents. A classy woman like Dawn probably wouldn’t understand.
“What did you guys eat instead?” she asked.
“Baloney sandwiches. Bean soup. Spaghetti. My parents always put food on the table, and we were never hungry.”
“I ate a lot of sandwiches for dinner growing up, too,” said Dawn, surprising him, “especially after my parents got divorced.”
“When did that happen?”
“When I was in middle school. Or junior high, as we called it back then.”
She smiled, and Warren was surprised to see that her bottom teeth were crooked. Like him, she must not have had braces.
“Back in the dark ages,” Warren joked. “Better not let Mikaela hear you say junior high, or she’ll lecture you on how that’s not what it’s called anymore.”
Dawn laughed. “Sierra’s the same way. She wants to be on-trend. Although to be honest, I’m not sure if ‘on-trend’ is still how you say it. I can’t keep up with the lingo.”
Warren didn’t know what on-trend meant but didn’t want to admit it. He could ask Laurie later. Right now was his opportunity to win Dawn over and make her understand how much safety meant to him. The best way to do that would be hard. No matter how many times he told his story, it never got easier. But he was used to doing difficult things.
Warren took a deep breath before he began sharing. “When I was in junior high, my older brother, Rudy, looked out for me,” he said. “But in high school we all got split up. Our younger brother, Neil, stayed in Olympia. I moved to Tacoma, and Rudy dropped out early, got his GED, and enlisted in the army.”
The flirty smile on Dawn’s lips faded. She pulled a blond curl away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “What happened to split you all up?”
“Our house caught fire.”
Dawn gasped. “Oh no. How?”
Warren gently lowered the barbecue lid and steadied himself before looking back at Dawn. “The gas wall heater in our rental was too expensive, so my parents burned free wood in a woodstove they picked up off the side of the road. One night, an ember caught the rug on fire while we slept.” He shuddered, the fear still present.
“Oh my gosh. Was anyone hurt?”
Warren nodded. “Rudy scraped up his arm pretty bad on broken glass. He used a lamp to break our bedroom window so we could escape.” Fortunately, they hadn’t opened the door to the hallway. Neil had wanted to, but it was too hot. “My little brother burned his hand on a doorknob,” he added.
“And your parents?” Dawn whispered.
“They made it out alive, but to this day, my dad’s lungs are pretty scarred from the smoke inhalation. He uses an oxygen tank when he sleeps.”
Dawn shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Why were you and your brothers split up if everyone survived?”
“The house was a rental, and my parents didn’t have renter’s insurance.” Warren sliced into a hamburger patty to verify it was done. “They sent us boys off to different relatives while they got back on their feet.”
His mom and dad had never said so, but Warren thought it likely they lived in their car for over a year while they scraped together enough money for a deposit on a new place. It wasn’t a time anyone in their family talked about.
“That must have been difficult for you,” said Dawn.
Warren nodded. “The thing is, our house might not have burned down if the firefighters had gotten there in time.”
“Why didn’t they?” Dawn clasped her hands in front of her.
“Because we lived on a dead-end street with no lights, and bushes grew in front of the numbers by our front door. The fire department took twenty-two minutes and fourteen seconds to find us, and by then, the house was engulfed in flames.”
Warren felt spent. He’d told that story hundreds of times to his friends, colleagues, and children during school auditorium presentations. But it never became easier. The hurt stuck with him, fierce as ever, like he was a kid again.
“I’m so sorry,” said Dawn. “What a horrible experience.”
“Yes.” Warren nodded. “So you see why I’m passionate about that safety bridge? If a train crashed and one of the buildings on the marina went up in flames, I wouldn’t be able to reach it in time to help.”
Dawn nodded, a sober expression on her face. “I realize that’s a concern, and that this is deeply personal for you. I understand that now. Really, I do. Thank you for sharing with me.” Her breath hitched before she continued. “But public safety doesn’t need to come at the expense of nature.” She put her hand into her pocket.
“You’re not listening—” He stopped when he saw what she pulled out of her pocket.
She gripped a stack of flashcards, like the ones he’d made when he was studying for his captain’s test. “We already talked about the fireboat, which is still an idea worth considering.” Dawn took the first card and put it at the back of the stack. “What about decommissioned fire engines? They could be permanently parked on the other side of the tracks.” She spoke quickly, like she worried he would interrupt her. “The city could buy them used so they wouldn’t cost millions of dollars, and a garage could be built to store them.”
“We have rules about vehicle life. In Harper Landing, we are only allowed to keep them for ten years.”
“I understand that. Some departments sell them sooner though, right?” She looked up at him with her aquamarine eyes. “So we might be able to buy vehicles that were only eight years old.”
“And replace them every two years?” Warren frowned. “Used engines are cheap but not that cheap.”
“They’d be for emergency use only,” said Dawn. “So long as someone drove them around the block once a week to make sure they still worked, it would be fine.”
“That’s not necessarily true.” Warren rubbed the back of his neck, trying to think of how to explain it to her. “Someone could sabotage them, kids playing around or an actual terrorist. Plus, how would the crew get over there in time to deploy them?”
Dawn flipped over another flashcard. “I drew a map.” She held up a card with tiny squiggles on it. “Here’s the beach,” she said. “And?—”
“Okay, you two,” Laurie said as she came outside, holding a salad. “Let’s save this beach talk until after dinner.” She set the salad bowl in the middle of the table, next to the hamburger buns.
Trent and Ash emerged next, one carrying ketchup and the other carrying mustard. Alison followed with a bowl of watermelon slices. Mikaela and Sierra came last with plates and silverware. Warren was glad to see that both girls were laughing. Their hands were brightly dyed from making slime. From the looks of it, they’d been generous with the food coloring.
If it weren’t for the beach argument, Warren might have relaxed. He hadn’t found time for social gatherings like this one in a while. Plus, he enjoyed sparring with Dawn. She was intelligent and clearly prepared. He had thought she was a good-looking tree-hugger who wouldn’t listen to reason, but Dawn had reasons why she thought her alternative plans would work. She was smart, but wrong.
“Better get a bun,” he said, “while the burgers are still hot.”
Dawn put her flashcards back into her pocket. “Okay.” She smiled sweetly. Her lips looked pillowy soft. “But this conversation isn’t over.” She spun on her heel and marched across the deck, the full skirt of her sundress swaying behind her.
Warren watched her go, impressed by her determination and by the curvy outline of her figure. He wished fleetingly that his date Friday night was with Dawn instead of Brittany, but in his situation, he was lucky to have a date on the calendar at all. Brittany was beautiful, too, he reminded himself, and she wouldn’t arrive with a stack of flashcards like she was on a debate team. Warren chuckled. Dawn was feisty all right.
He was about to walk over to the bar when from the corner of his eye, he spotted Ash opening the cooler and selecting a juice box. “One juice box a day, Ash. You know the rules.”
“Man!” Ash dropped the box back into the ice and slammed the lid shut.
“I could get you a soda instead,” Warren offered.
“It’s not soda. It’s sparkling water.” Ash kicked the ground.
“Yeah,” said Trent, who sat at the table. “We’re big kids now, and we know the difference.”
Sierra held up her can of La Croix. “I’m a big kid, and I like sparkling water.”
“So do I,” said Mikaela.
The two girls toasted each other and giggled.
“Oh, all right.” Ash reached back into the cooler for a La Croix. “You want one, Trent?”
“No. I’ve got milk.” He slurped from his plastic cup.
“Well, now that that’s all settled, maybe we can eat.” Warren pulled out a chair and sat down. Pheplt. It felt like his butt cheeks had popped a water balloon.
Mikaela stared at him in horror. “Did you just fart? Gross!” She covered her face with both hands.
“No, I most certainly didn’t.” Warren jumped up from the chair and looked at the seat. Five used juice boxes had leaked onto the cushion, their straws poking out at odd angles. “Who drank all this juice?” he asked.
“Um... Warren?” Laurie spoke in a gentle voice. “You might want to turn around.”
Mikaela lowered her hands. “Dad, it looks like you… well, did something in your pants.”
Warren craned his head to look at his backside. Sure enough, a huge stain soiled his cargo shorts. When he turned back, he saw Dawn cringe. Mortified, Warren swiped some napkins off the table and tried to blot the fabric before realizing he looked like he was wiping his ass.
“Ash, did you do that?” Alison asked in a stern voice.
“No.” Ash’s face turned bright red, and Warren noticed the boy’s nose twitching like it did when he was lying.
“Tell the truth now ,” Alison demanded. “You know the dentist said too much juice is bad for your teeth.”
Laurie rose to her feet. “I’ll find you a towel, Warren.”
Warren felt bad for Ash, because everyone was staring at the boy. Dropping to his knees, Warren looked at Ash and smiled. “It’s okay, buddy. I didn’t like these shorts anyway. But it would be better for you to tell your moms the truth.”
Ash looked back at Warren uncertainly, but a moment later, he nodded. The trust between them was strong. “I was so thirsty,” he said. “And soda’s gross.”
“I get thirsty, too, all the time,” said Warren. “But I usually choose water because it won’t hurt my teeth.”
“But juice is good for you,” said Ash.
“There’s a picture of fruit on the box,” Trent added.
Warren nodded. “I like juice too. But your moms are right. One juice a day is plenty, especially if you can’t brush your teeth right after you drink it.”
Ash heaved a sigh ten times too big for his little body. “I’m sorry about your shorts.”
“It’s okay.” Warren held open his arms. “Need a hug?”
Ash nodded as two crocodile tears rolled down his cheeks. He threw himself against Warren and hugged him tightly. Then the two of them picked up the juice boxes and tossed them in the trash.
“Here you go,” said Laurie, coming outside with two beach towels. “I hope this helps.”
“Thanks.” Warren laid the towels on his chair and sat down carefully this time, still feeling nervous about making flatulence sounds. He was relieved when nothing happened except for the chair hinges squeaking from rust.
“You handled that beautifully,” Dawn whispered, squeezing his arm.
Warren felt a jolt of excitement at her touch. He shrugged but was secretly pleased by her praise. “All in a day’s work.” He helped himself to a hamburger bun and patty.
“Well, now that the drama’s over with, everyone can dive in.” Laurie took off her apron and hung it on the armrest of her chair. “Thank you all for coming.”
“Thanks for the slime.” Sierra wiggled her dyed fingertips. “Pink’s my favorite color.”
“It looks like you’ve brought slime with you to the table,” said Dawn, as she passed the bowl of watermelon to Mikaela.
“We washed our hands really good,” said Mikaela, “but the food coloring sticks.”
“It was worth it, though, because it came out so pretty.” Sierra squirted mustard onto her bun. “And it made a great video.”
“That’s nice.” Warren scooped a couple of pickles out of the jar and laid them on top of his shredded lettuce. His burger was shaping up into a gourmet work of art.
“How many people do you think have seen it on your TikTok by now?” Sierra asked.
Mikaela elbowed her. “Shh!”
If it weren’t for that hushing noise, Warren might not have noticed anything was up. “What’s a TikTok?” he asked.
“Nothing.” Mikaela wiped her mouth with her napkin. “Would you please pass the salad?”
Warren handed her the bowl. “It doesn’t sound like nothing. This Tikity-Tok sounds like something I should know about.”
“Sorry,” Sierra whispered.
“TikTok’s an app teenagers use to share videos with their friends,” said Dawn. “Like Instagram, only more video based.”
Warren didn’t have Instagram, so the comparison didn’t help him, but he understood the part about teenagers sharing videos. “Like on a phone?” he asked. “Mikaela doesn’t have a phone.”
“You can do it on a tablet too,” said Dawn. “Sierra’s been bugging me for a TikTok account all summer.”
And Mikaela didn’t even ask my permission. Warren felt like a fool. “Did your mother say you could have a TikTok account?” he asked her.
Mikaela raised her chin. “She didn’t say I couldn’t have one.”
“Meaning you didn’t ask her. Or me.” Warren’s frustration mounted.
“Why would I ask you?” Mikaela asked. “You don’t even know what TikTok is.”
“Mikaela’s account is really safe,” said Sierra, jumping in. “Her account’s set to private, so she has to personally know you to let you see her videos.”
“Videos?” Warren raised his eyebrows. “As in plural?”
“What does plural mean?” Trent asked. “Is that a bad word?”
“No,” said Laurie. “It means more than one.”
“You don’t have to show your face on TikTok,” said Dawn. She looked at Sierra before turning her gaze toward Warren. “Lots of sixth graders have TikTok accounts, and if the privacy settings are strong, they’re harmless.”
“That’s right,” said Sierra. “Almost every girl at school has one. Which is why my mom said?—”
“That I’d think about it,” Dawn interrupted. “Because I see the value in learning visual media.” She raked her fingers through her blond curls. “Half my job consists of creating visual displays, both in the store and online. Who knows what the future holds? Video editing skills might become more important than ever.”
“That’s right.” Laurie nodded. “I do PR for the city of Seattle, and video campaigns are vital. Social media’s the future.”
“Social media, huh?” Warren fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Okay,” he conceded. “As long as you don’t show your face, I guess it’s okay.” He was about to take a bite of his hamburger when he realized he’d forgotten something important. “Trent, could you please pass me the ketchup?”
“Sure.” Trent picked up the bottle and handed it across the table. When he stretched out his arm, something long and wiggly slid down his sleeve and dropped into the bowl of watermelon.
“Eeew!” Sierra screamed.
“What is it?” Alison asked.
Warren put his hamburger down and investigated the bowl. A monster-sized earthworm crawled over the watermelon. “Trent,” he said in a calm voice, “I thought I told you to leave the worms in the garden?”
“I did put them in the garden.” Trent hastily picked up the worm and sheltered it in his hands. “But this is Hermie, and he’s special.”
“Like in the song,” said Mikaela. “‘Along Came Hermie the Worm.’ My dad used to sing that to me all the time when I was little.”
“He sings it to us, too,” said Ash.
Trent lifted up Hermie and stared at him adoringly. “Isn’t he cute?”
“Worms don’t belong at the dinner table.” Laurie stood. “Let’s go put Hermie in a jar and wash our hands. Then we can come back and eat. Okay?”
“Good plan,” said Alison. “Why don’t you take the watermelon with you?”
“I’ll eat it,” Warren said, who hated to see good food go to waste.
“Yuck!” Sierra cried.
Dawn looked at her sharply. “Manners,” she said.
“Sorry,” Sierra muttered.
Chastened, Warren picked up the offending piece of watermelon and set it aside. “Well, I won’t eat that piece,” he said, “but the rest of it should be fine.” He couldn’t believe he was being food-shamed by a sixth-grade girl, but he felt better knowing that Mikaela wasn’t the only kid who could be difficult. It must come with the age or something.
“And we’re back!” Laurie announced.
She led Trent to his seat. He had freshly washed hands and no Hermie.
Warren took a bite of his juicy hamburger. The ground sirloin tasted flavorful, even though it had cooled some. The lettuce had just the right amount of crispness, and the condiments mixed together into a savory sauce. He enjoyed the burger so much that he remembered too late to take his elbows off the table. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and hoped nobody had noticed his rude manners, especially Dawn. His mom had taught him better than that. Astrid always said that good table manners showed character.
“Have any of you ever had a barbecue on the beach?” Dawn asked.
Man, she had a one-track mind. “As a matter of fact, I have,” Warren said.
“We did that for the twins’ fourth birthday last year,” said Laurie. She looked at Alison wistfully. “Their last birthday party as preschoolers.”
Alison ripped off a piece of hamburger bun and stuffed it in her mouth.
“Some of my best memories of my dad are from the beach,” Dawn said. “Well, the beaches at Lake Wenatchee and Lake Chelan, anyway.”
“I make special memories at the beach with my dad too,” said Sierra. “We go to Luther Burbank Park on Mercer Island with my grandparents, and sometimes, Dad comes here, and we kayak at Harper Landing.”
“We fish a few kayakers who’ve almost drowned out of the water every summer,” Alison said, “which is another reason emergency access to the beach is so important.”
Warren knew Alison was trying to help the cause, but he wished she hadn’t said that.
Sierra’s eyes glinted like steel. “My dad is an excellent kayaker, and so am I. We always wear life jackets, and I can do a screw roll and a hand roll too.”
“That’s right,” said Dawn. “There’s no use teaching kids to live in fear, and the many health benefits from recreational beach activities greatly outweigh the risks.” She started to reach down to her pocket—Warren assumed for her flashcards—but must have thought better of it because her hand came back up empty. “Water sports are only one of the many exercise opportunities Harper Landing Beach provides. Walking, running, and Ultimate Frisbee are some others. Those are an important outlet for all ages, especially for people who can’t afford to belong to the gym. The beach is a great equalizer because all income levels can access it.”
“Yes,” Alison said as she stabbed a piece of tomato with her fork, “but let’s not forget the gym. Cascade Athletic Club is on the marina, and about four hundred people use it at any one time. Harper Landing Fire needs to be able to reach them quickly if someone has an emergency, like a heart attack or stroke.”
“So you’re prioritizing the needs of rich people first?” Dawn asked. “The Cascade Athletic Club costs a hundred twenty dollars a month for membership.”
“No.” Alison frowned. “Of course not. But there are other places people can exercise for free besides the beach. And we’re not talking about removing access to all the beach, only a third of it.”
“Tell that to the fish or the harbor seals,” Sierra blurted out. “‘Sorry,’” she said in a sing-song voice, “‘but we’re removing access to a third of your home.’”
Dawn smiled and winked at her daughter.
Warren wished he was in sync with Mikaela like that. Instead of going to bat for him, Mikaela licked ketchup off her fingers and didn’t say a word.
“I remember taking the twins to the beach when they were babies.” Laurie gazed at the boys with a sad smile. “Cute, adorable babies. They’d dig in the sand for hours.”
“They still dig in the sand,” said Alison.
“Yeah, Mom,” Ash said. “What’s your point?”
“Yeah,” echoed Alison. “Whose side are you on, Laurie?”
“Your side, of course.” Laurie reached out and patted Alison’s hand. “But maybe Dawn and Sierra are right, and this beach-bridge thingy isn’t the best approach.”
“It’s not a thingy,” said Warren. “It’s a strategic solution for dealing with a potential disaster that could have devastating consequences.”
“Which is why you should be battalion chief,” Alison said. She gave him a thumbs-up. “You always think ahead. Have you started studying for your test yet?”
Warren scratched the back of his neck. “Not exactly.”
“Wait.” Laurie smacked her palm on the table. “I finally realized something.” She looked at Alison accusingly. “If Warren becomes battalion chief, then that would open up a captain spot at Station Two. Oh my gosh, is that’s why you’re campaigning for the bridge thingy?”
“No.” Alison said. “Okay, kind of.” She nodded sheepishly. “I think it’s a good idea, but also, it would help pave the way for his promotion.”
“And you would become captain?” Laurie asked. “Is that right?”
Alison nodded. “Hopefully… I’ve been studying for the test while I’m on the treadmill.”
“This is why you don’t want another baby.” Laurie shook her head sadly. “Because you want a promotion.”
“Another baby?” Warren was shocked. Nobody had told him that was a possibility.
“Not just any baby.” Alison tugged at her short hair and turned to look at him. “She wants your baby.”
Warren’s jaw dropped. “What?”
“Oh boy,” said Dawn. “I think we better go.” She jumped up from her seat. “Thanks for dinner. It’s been nice meeting you all.” She jerked her head in Sierra’s direction and motioned with her thumb to leave.
“Yeah, it’s been awesome.” Sierra leaped to her feet. “I’ll FaceTime you, Mikaela. Okay?”
“That would be great!” Mikaela exclaimed. “I mean, fine,” she said, shrugging. “Whatever.”
“ My baby?” Warren was completely oblivious to the world around him. All he could concentrate on was the words Alison had just said.
“See?” Alison said to Laurie. “I told you this was a bad idea.”
Warren didn’t know if he agreed with Alison or not. He wanted another baby, and he cared for Alison, Laurie, and their boys, but things were already so complicated they couldn’t make it through one backyard barbecue without a disaster. Warren sat in his wet shorts, staring at the last bite of his cold hamburger, then picked up his glass and chugged the rest of his beer.