Chapter 7 #2
She grins. “Yeah, okay, you’re right. But try growing up with four extra dads breathing down your neck. Honestly? I’d say you should marry one of them just to make yourself officially part of the family, but that would be beyond weird.”
I pop the umbrella open, glancing out over the landscape.
McKenna’s words drift between us, and I fight to keep them from sinking into my heart.
The pasture rolls into the distance as far as I can see—wide and open.
The fence line cuts a tidy seam between the Lawsons’ land and ours—a physical reminder of their nearness and of the lines we don’t cross.
A smile tugs at my mouth anyway, because what I have in McKenna is priceless—a friend who’s closer than a sister.
McKenna reaches over and squeezes my hand. “I guess we’re stuck being neighbors and besties.”
“I could do way worse,” I say, squeezing her back.
“Yeah. Me too.”
The rain stops on my drive into town. I park on the street that runs in front of the fire station.
The county offices are a few blocks down, but I could use the walk to burn off some of this nervous energy.
And, yes, I might also want to peer into the bay at the station.
Nothing like a firefighter spotting to lift the spirits before an important interview.
The town smells earthy-fresh. Water sprays from under the tires of the few passing cars. I take a deep breath to steady my rising nerves. My pace slows as I glance across the street.
Unfortunately, the bay doors are closed—probably to keep the rain out. It’s for the best, I’m sure.
I arrive at my interview ten minutes early, opening the large glass door and stepping onto the penny tile floor that’s probably older than my grandma.
Susan Voorhees is at the desk in the lobby. Her voice echoes off the double-high ceiling and the staircase behind her. “Well, hey there, Carli. I heard you had applied for the inspector position. Just go on and have a seat. I’ll tell Sherman … uh, Battalion Chief Hayes you’re here.”
“Thanks, Susan,” I say. “Or, Mrs. Voorhees.”
“Oh, goodness no, Carli. You just call me Susan.” She shakes her head in amusement, then she picks up her phone and calls Chief Hayes. “Sherman, Carli’s here for her interview.”
I’ve just taken a seat when Chief Hayes comes down the stairs. “Carli, good to see you.” He extends his hand and I shake it.
“You too,” I say, feeling as if I should say more—something professional or witty—but nothing comes to mind so I just stand there.
“Well, let’s do this,” Chief Hayes says. “David’s upstairs waiting for us.”
“David?” I repeat.
“Captain Goddard. I had another man from the county lined up, but the road to his place washed out in the storm last night, so he’s at home until the water level drops and the county can patch it.”
“Oh. Sorry to hear that,” I say, because apparently this is who I am now—a woman of few words.
Oh my gosh! I’m turning into my dad. I’ve got less vocabulary available to me than at any other time in my life.
“Yeah, well. You know how spring showers go,” Chief Hayes says with a warm smile.
“I do.” Heaven help me. It’s like my words are swirling down a drain, leaving me practically mute.
Chief Hayes opens the door to his office. David Goddard is already sitting in one of the chairs in front of a large wooden desk.
“Carli, good to see you.”
“You too,” I say, shaking David’s hand—when I’d normally be giving his wife a hug and his kids piggyback rides around our property.
“Well, you’ve done your prep work,” Chief Hayes says before taking his seat behind the desk. “I’m impressed.”
“Thank you.”
“Let’s see here,” he opens a file and pulls out what I recognize as my resume. “Ranch work, animal husbandry, business management, familiar with the community. And volunteer fire department. Good. Good.”
He looks to David, so I say, “I haven’t been on many fires, to be honest. We show up if something happens out on the ranches—as backup.” Great. When my words finally come back, they come in the form of self-deprecation and enthusiastic underselling.
“Yes. That’s what I’d expect,” Chief Hayes says. Then he looks at David. “Not many volunteers knock out Inspector I and Building Construction coursework pre-hire. Shows commitment and ambition.”
“I wanted to be fully qualified,” I tell them.
“Well, you certainly seem to be,” Chief Hayes says. “I just have one question.”
I stare at him, my nerves humming so loudly just below the surface, I’m surprised the two men can’t hear the vibration.
“Why this job?” Chief Hayes asks me, shutting the folder and leaning back in his chair.
I don’t give him my real reason. I need something that’s just mine, and fire seems the most logical step out from the farm since I know the firefighters so well.
I smile, hopefully appearing far calmer than I feel. “Because I love this town, and I want to serve the people of Waterford with my skills. I am calm under pressure.” With the exception of this interview. “And I have a good eye for details.”
Chief Hayes nods. David smiles.
“Well, that does it for me,” Chief Hayes says. “Anything else, David?”
“I don’t think so,” he says.
The interview ends like the oddest round of county-office speed dating. The lack of further questions either means they already love me for the position—or they’re certain they don’t want me.
On my way out, Susan wishes me luck. I take a detour back to my car. I just made it through my first-ever job interview. I deserve a little something—and if I’m being honest, I need to see my friends.
Sydney whistles like a man who’s had too many cocktails when I walk through the door of Baker From Another Mother. “Look at you, hot stuff!”
The warmth of the bakery envelops me like a cinnamon-sugar hug.
“Stop,” I say, breathing my first full breath in an hour. “I had my interview.”
“We know!” Emberleigh says. She’s all smiles. “So? How’d it go?”
“Good? I think. I don’t know.”
I ran all their words through my head on the way from the county offices to the bakery. “They said my certifications show commitment and ambition. That’s a good sign.”
“Definitely,” Emberleigh says. “You’re a shoo-in.”
“I’m not. They have other candidates. We’ll see.”
“Well, this calls for a strawberry donut,” Syd says.
“In your book, everything calls for a strawberry donut,” Emberleigh jokes.
“True. And I’m not wrong.” Syd steps down the glass case and pulls out a puffy donut covered in powdered sugar. Bits of real strawberry are embedded in the dough and there’s a strawberry jam filling swirled with a cream filling.
I take a bite and moan. I actually moan.
“See?” Syd says to Emberleigh. “Those are killer.”
“These should be illegal,” I say around my next bite.
“Well, you can issue us a citation when you get the position,” Syd says.
“We don’t know if I got the job,” I remind her.
“Well, consider the donut a celebration or a consolation. Either way, you stepped out and went for what you wanted. Let’s celebrate that.”
I raise my donut to her and smile. “Thank you. It did feel good stepping out. The parts where I wasn’t about to lose my breakfast did, anyway.”
They laugh. And then Emberleigh says, “Interviewing is nerve-racking. I’m sure you did better than you think. Besides, around here, the interview is more of a formality than anything. Nine out of ten times, we already know the person sitting across from us.”
I finish my donut and offer to pay, but they insist it’s on the house.
On my walk back to my car, I pass the fire station.
The sun is out and the bay doors are open.
Cody is inside, laughing with the other firemen.
The midday light hits him like a spotlight, or maybe that’s just how I see him, always standing out more than anyone else in a room.
I indulge myself, staring at the scene across the street. He’s telling a story, slightly animated, pausing for reactions—at home with his crew. I’ll find my place too—the one outside Buckner Farms. If he can balance both worlds, I can too.
I tuck myself slightly behind a parked van so Cody won’t catch me staring. I could just as easily go over there and say hi. But I don’t. I start to walk back to my truck.
His head pivots as if he senses me. And then his eyes narrow like he doesn’t believe it’s me. I can tell the moment it clicks. He tips his chin and lifts his hand in a small wave. My belly flutters and I smile, waving back.
“Carli?” he shouts across the street.
I consider shouting, “Hi,” and then turning to walk to my truck, but something about him tugs at me, so I look both ways and cross to the station.
I stop just outside the bays.
Cody smiles broadly and asks: “How’d it go?”
“How’d … Oh! The interview?”
“Yeah, that was today, right?”
“It was.”
“I figured that’s why you’re all dressed up.”
I glance down at myself and back to him, wondering what he sees when he looks at me.
“It went well, I think.”
Patrick says, “Inspector Buckner, huh? Should we be worried?”
I smile. “You should always be worried.”
“Okay, then,” he smiles a comforting smile. “But seriously, I hope you get it.”
“Thanks.”
My eyes drift back to Cody. He’s just looking at me with that same kindness he’s had my whole life. Neither of us look away. I wish I could read his mind.
“Well, I’d better get going. Dad has a list for me when I get back.” Dad? Really, Carli? Way to show Cody you’re not the youngest Buckner.
He simply nods with understanding.
I wave to the guys.
“Keep us posted,” Patrick says.
“I will.” I pause, smiling. “Not that I’ll have to. I’m sure you’ll hear before I do.”
“Maybe,” Dustin says, laughing. “It’s Waterford, after all.”
I turn and walk back down the driveway. Is Cody watching me go? I’d watch him. No doubt.
When I get home, I drive to my cottage first, changing out of my city clothes back into what’s normal and familiar—jeans, boots, a henley and my coat.
I drive over to the main house. Mom’s stirring a pot on the stove.
Dad’s in a chair in the living room, resting.
No one asks how the interview went. The quiet says enough.
I step out onto the porch before walking over to the barn to top the feeders.
Leaning up to the railing, I take a deep breath.
Everything’s changing.
My life feels like the pre-spring ground, muddy, but promising.