Chapter 5
The Saturday Shift
Lucy had never been inside Ben's firehouse before.
She had driven past it. She had dropped Mara off once when Ben had forgotten his phone at home. But she had never walked through the open bay door carrying three boxes of donated children's books and found Ben in a navy station shirt, laughing with two other firefighters beside the engine.
He saw her immediately.
His smile changed.
Lucy told herself she imagined that.
"What are you doing here?"
"Delivery."
"Those for me?"
"Unless you've recently developed an interest in early-reader mysteries."
One of the firefighters stepped forward. "He has hidden depths."
Ben sighed. "Lucy, this is Luis Ortega. The chili criminal."
"I heard about you," Lucy said.
Luis looked offended. "Whatever he said, the cumin was necessary."
Another firefighter, a tall woman with a braid, joined them. "Devon Pike. You must be Festival Lucy."
Lucy turned slowly toward Ben.
"Festival Lucy?"
He looked betrayed. "I did not name you that."
"He talks about your festival like it's a federal deployment," Devon said.
Ben took the boxes from Lucy. "The books are for the station toy drive?"
"For the literacy table at the open house. Priya said you were collecting."
"We are. Thanks."
Lucy glanced around. The station was bright, busy, and far more domestic than she expected. Someone had left a half-finished crossword on the kitchen table. A row of mugs hung near the coffee machine. Coats and helmets waited in precise lines.
On a bulletin board near the stairs were photographs: charity runs, school visits, retirements, holiday dinners.
Ben belonged here.
It was obvious in a way she had never considered.
"Want the tour?" he asked.
"Are civilians allowed?"
"You are barely a civilian. You have three emergency binders."
"Two."
"I saw the red one."
Lucy followed him through the station. He showed her the kitchen, the gear room, the cramped lounge upstairs. He spoke differently here. Still easy, still warm, but more focused. People asked him questions as they passed. He answered without performing competence; he simply had it.
At the end of the hall, a small framed card hung beside the door.
KEEP SHOWING UP.
Lucy stopped.
"That's your family motto, isn't it?"
Ben looked at the card. "Pretty much."
"Mara says your mother used to say it whenever one of you complained about anything."
"She still does."
"It sounds exhausting."
He laughed. "It can be."
Then his expression softened.
"Useful, though."
Lucy knew something about useful.
"You like being the person people call," she said.
Ben leaned one shoulder against the wall.
"Most of the time."
"And the rest?"
He looked toward the stairs, where someone shouted for Ortega.
"Sometimes I wonder if people call because they want me there or because they know I'll fix something."
The honesty surprised her.
Lucy looked at the card again.
"Maybe both can be true."
"Maybe."
A bell sounded below.
Everything changed instantly.
Voices sharpened. Footsteps pounded. Ben's entire posture shifted.
"I have to go."
"Of course."
He was halfway down the hall when he turned back.
"Lucy."
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad you came."
Then he was gone.
Lucy stood alone beside the framed card.
Keep showing up.
She had built a life around the same rule without ever putting it on a wall.
That felt less comforting than it should have.
Two hours after Lucy left the firehouse, Ben texted her.
SAFE. FALSE ALARM.
She stared at the message longer than necessary.
She had not asked him to text. She had not even realized he knew she might worry.
Lucy typed: GOOD.
Then, because the word felt too small, she added: THANKS FOR TELLING ME.
His reply came a minute later.
I FIGURED YOU'D ADD ME TO A RISK ASSESSMENT OTHERWISE.
Lucy smiled at her phone in the middle of the grocery store.
An elderly woman beside the apples glanced at her.
"Good news?"
"Apparently."
That night, Lucy baked pumpkin bread for the library volunteers. She made one extra loaf and wrapped it before she could talk herself out of it.
The next afternoon, she brought it to the firehouse. Ben was out on a call, so she left it in the kitchen with a note.
FOR THE CUMIN CRIMINALS. SHARE. - LUCY
Ben sent her a photograph that evening. The loaf was gone. Ortega held the empty plate with a tragic expression.
YOU HAVE CREATED A PROBLEM, Ben wrote. THEY WANT WEEKLY DELIVERY.
Lucy replied: THAT SOUNDS LIKE A YOU PROBLEM.
A second message appeared.
THANK YOU.
Then another.
I SAVED A SLICE BEFORE THEY DESTROYED IT.
For you? Lucy typed.
Ben took longer to answer.
FOR TOMORROW. YOU NEVER EAT brEAKFAST DURING FESTIVAL WEEK.
Lucy put the phone face down on her kitchen table.
It did not help.
The warmth stayed with her anyway.