15. Chapter 15
Chapter fifteen
Brandy
All women know the feeling of waking up in the morning with a plan to get things done. For me, this was one of those mornings.
I showed up at the firehouse in casual attire: jeans, a T-shirt, and a zip-up hoodie. I had a clipboard loaded with folders, pens, and the color-coded spreadsheet I'd made the night before.
I walked out of my house absolutely determined to get this event organized, regardless of what the chief had to say.
Gary used to say I over-organized everything.
Well, tough shit.
I do over-organize, but I don't micromanage. That's the difference he could never grasp.
Besides, Gary lost his keys, which were always hanging on the hook, a minimum of four times a week, so I didn't think that his opinion carried a lot of weight here.
This was my first event in my new job, and there wasn't any way I was going to miss a detail because I wasn't prepared or organized.
No thank you.
Would there be little things that popped up at the last minute? Sure. Of course. But those were easy to handle. It was the big pieces I wanted to make sure I had covered.
My phone rang as soon as I parked at the fire station.
“Hello?”
“Brandy, this is Bill at the hardware store. Say, we came up with an idea for the forklift, but we wanted to run it by you before we finalized the plan. Would it be alright if we had a game to go along with the forklift?”
A smile spread across my face.
I was overjoyed that someone was going beyond simple decorations.
“Yes, that's wonderful!”
“Good, good. We were thinking of a basketball-style game with balloons decorated like heads. Sort of a decapitated head toss. We'll have small prizes for anyone who makes the basket.”
“I couldn't love this plan any more.”
I was already jotting the idea into my notebook so I could add it to the master plan later.
“Bill, you just made my day. The kids are going to love it.”
“I'm glad you like it.”
His voice carried a happy lift.
“Well, ah, stop by sometime.”
“I will, for sure. I hope you have a great day.”
I hung up thrilled.
Now why couldn't Chief Crabby be this on board?
I stepped out of my car and found Jo holding the door open with two cups of coffee.
I took that as a sign she was either a genuinely good person or she knew something I didn't.
Based on everything I'd learned about Jo in the past two weeks, probably both.
“Morning,” she said.
“Morning.”
We walked into the bay and took in the pile of boxes.
“Today I'm doing a full inventory. Any idea where I should put them when I'm done?”
“Ah, somewhere out of the way?”
“Thanks, Captain Obvious.” I rolled my eyes.
“Where can I put them so they're out of the way and not causing stress?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Nick standing in the doorway of the bay.
He was wearing one of those department T-shirts stretched across his chest and arms. A cup of coffee sat in one hand while he surveyed the scene with the expression of a man already forming several strong opinions.
No one should look that good in the morning.
I smiled.
“Good morning, Chief.”
“Morning.”
He strode toward us, taking in the boxes and my industrial-sized clipboard.
“What's happening?”
“Inventory,” I said brightly. “And reorganization. Where can I move this stuff so it's out of your way?”
He raised both eyebrows.
“How about your office?”
I took a breath to keep from reacting immediately.
Squaring up, I looked him in the eyes.
“Carting all of this to my office and then bringing it back over here for the event seems like a very inefficient use of time. I had it delivered here to make things more efficient.”
“True. It would be more efficient, provided we were having the event here.”
“We are having the event here.” Involuntarily, my hands went to my hips. “That's been established.”
“Has it?”
Nick squared up so we were standing less than a foot apart.
“Excuse me.”
Jo appeared beside Nick.
“I don't want to interrupt.”
“Then don't,” Nick said without breaking eye contact.
“Yeah, okay, so as I was saying...” Jo looked back and forth between us. “I'm going to interrupt whatever this is or whatever it's about to become. What about the back storage room? It's pretty empty.”
Just then a blur of black and white came bounding through the kitchen door.
“Woof! Woof!”
Cap flew toward me.
“Hi, cutie. Where have you been?” I bent down to pet him just in time for him to knock me over.
Cap immediately began licking my face.
“Cap!” Jo and Nick yelled simultaneously.
Nick grabbed him and pulled him backward while Jo offered me a hand.
“I'm fine, I'm fine.” I stood and straightened my hoodie.
“Now that's how you say good morning.”
I ruffled Cap's face. “Good boy.”
“Are you sure you're alright?” Nick asked, his eyes flicking over me.
“Yeah, I'm good. I'm glad he was happy to see me.” I scratched Cap behind the ears. “Now, about this storage room...”
“No,” Nick said. “We've got plans for it.”
“We do?” Jo raised an eyebrow. “It's been empty for months.”
“It's either put all of this,” I motioned to the boxes, “in the storage room or leave it here.”
“Fine.” Nick scowled. “But it doesn't mean the event is on.”
“On the contrary, it does.” I turned to Jo. “Please lead the way.” Then I stepped beside her, not giving her much choice.
When I looked back at Nick, I made sure he knew exactly what I was doing. I dared him to challenge me.
Jo made a sound behind me that she very quickly converted into a cough.
Nick nodded once and headed toward the kitchen door, clearly not happy with the decision I'd made.
“Don't read into it,” Jo said quietly as she led me toward a short hallway at the back of the bay.
“I'm not,” I said. “It's my mission to get him on board, even if it's kicking and screaming.”
“Good.”
The storage room was perfect. I grabbed a flatbed cart and brought it back to the bay, telling Jo about the earlier call from Bill.
“Wonderful. When are you getting the word out to the community?”
“That's my afternoon project. I wanted to talk to the Chief about what he wants promoted for Safety Week.”
“Good luck with that.” Jo laughed.
An ear-shattering siren caused me to jump.
“What the...”
“Shh.” Jo held up a hand.
Three sharp, high-pitched tones rang out.
“Truck One report,” a female voice announced over the speaker. “Accident, Highway Fifteen and Ridgeview. Four vehicles with injuries. Smoke reported on scene.”
I didn't have time to say anything else.
Jo sprinted away from me toward the front of the enormous red fire truck.
Two seconds later Scott banked around the corner from the kitchen door, followed by Nick with Cap on his heels.
They ran along the wall, stopping at hooks where their gear hung.
Two other firefighters I hadn't met yet exploded through the opposite doorway.
“Dispatch, FC One. Truck One responding.” Nick spoke into the microphone clipped to his shoulder. “Let's roll!”
I stood and watched in awe at how quickly they moved. Each of them knew exactly what to do. Together they operated like a well-oiled machine.
Cap sat against the wall, taking it all in until everyone was loaded. Then Nick called for him. Cap sprang into action, disappearing around the side of the truck after them.
Before pulling out of the bay, Nick glanced my way. For a split second our eyes met.
“Be careful,” I whispered.
As though he'd heard me, he gave a small nod.
Then the truck pulled out with the sirens blaring. The bay door slid shut behind them, leaving me alone in the suddenly enormous space.
I stood there listening to the sirens fade into the distance. For one horrifying second, I wondered if the lights would shut off too. Thankfully, they didn't.
“Well, that was something.”
I looked at the mountain of boxes.
“I guess if they're going to work, I should too.”
I grabbed a box containing forty-eight brightly colored plastic bats in orange, green, purple, and what the packing slip described as Festive Teal, which was really just regular teal but happier.
I logged them into the spreadsheet, saved the packing slip, and placed the box on the cart. Box two contained the neon skeletons. Six large and six small in colors that included hot pink, lime green, and one shade of orange so aggressive it practically had a personality.
“Whoa. That's the definition of vibrant.” Box three contained garland. Two strands in orange and black. Two more in purple and black.
I logged everything and saved the paperwork. Next I pulled out a fifty-foot string of lights shaped like tiny watermelons in green, pink, and orange. There were seven more strings exactly like them in the box. I closed it and added it to the cart.
“Hey, dumbass, you should be labeling these boxes.” I laughed at myself. “Now there's a good idea.”
I dug a black marker out of my clipboard and started labeling the outside of each box before shelving it. Somewhere around cart four, the bay door rattled and began to rise.
Moments later the fire truck backed into place.
Everyone returned to their hooks, removing and hanging their gear in the exact same spots they'd left it.
Cap came around the side of the truck, spotted me, and made a beeline in my direction.
“Hi, boy. Is everything alright?”
I scratched behind his ears.
“Hey.”
I looked up to see Nick standing there, he looked tired.
“Hey. You okay?”
He tilted his head slightly. “Yeah. Fine.”
“Good.”
For a second we just stood there looking at each other.
“You're making a dent.” He motioned toward the shrinking pallets. “I'll clean up and help you.”
Without another word he turned and headed for the kitchen door.
Cap looked up at me, then sat down as if to say: I'll stay here.
A little while later Nick returned with wet hair, a fresh department T-shirt, and a different pair of work pants. He carried two Diet Cokes and a bag of Ruffles.
“Here.”He handed me a soda and sat on one of the larger boxes.
Is this a peace offering?
For a moment, I started to think maybe everything was going to work out.
Maybe helping me meant he was finally coming around.
Maybe he was ready to admit Summerween wasn't such a terrible idea.
Then the inevitable happened.
Jorge, the maintenance man from the community center, rolled into the bay on a forklift carrying a heavily loaded shrink-wrapped pallet. He lowered it to the floor.
“Says it's for Wilson, care of the fire department,” he called over the engine.
I slowly raised my hand. “That's me.”
“This one's heavy. Must be for that big party you're having.”
I pressed my lips together and nodded.
“Well, there you go.” He tipped his hat and drove away.
I stared very hard at my clipboard. Beside me, I could practically feel Nick looking at the side of my face.
The intensity coming off him suggested a man working very hard not to lose his patience.
“What?” he finally asked.
“Candy.”
“The entire pallet?”
The shock in his voice was unmistakable.
“Remember back when these three arrived?” He pointed at the original pallets. “You said that was everything. There wasn't any more.”
He crossed his arms.
“What I want to know is, do you normally have trouble telling the truth? Or is this just something I'm blessed with?”
“Yes. I mean no.” I blew out a breath. “I didn't lie. I don't lie.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Listen. I didn't know how many businesses would participate. And we can't have Summerween without goodies. So I thought I'd put together little treat bags.”
I gave him my best please-understand face.
“You wouldn't want kids leaving empty-handed, would you?”
“A pallet full?”
“Well...”
I walked over to the pallet, found the packing slip box, wrestled it free of the plastic, and carried it back. Opening it, I pulled out one of the bags. The design featured a fire truck surrounded by bats and skeletons. Across the top it read: Safety Is Sweet. Happy Summerween.
Nick stared at it.”Uh-huh.”
“Speaking of this...”
I seized the opportunity. “I need to meet with you about promotions. The posters and flyers are getting designed Thursday, so I need details on how people sign up for Safety Week.”
“Posters?” Nick asked.
“Yes. Posters, flyers, and a mailer.” I smiled proudly. “We are really going to get the word out.”
“And you want to promote Safety Week too?”
“Of course.” I closed the box. “I told you, I'm not taking anything away from Safety Week. I'm enhancing it.”
Nick sat quietly for a moment. One eyebrow slowly lowered.
“Honestly, Nick.” I leaned over and placed my hand on his knee. “I'm not the enemy. I promise I'm not.”