The Firefighter's Thanksgiving Wish Page 17

  “Guess he won’t be looking for a place to live anytime soon,” Monty told her as Ozzy headed upstairs to pack up Roman’s things.

  “Probably not until after the holiday, no.” It occurred to Frankie that she should report in to dispatch and get them back in rotation. As she went, she clicked on the light switch that illuminated the artificial tree she’d decorated in keepsake ornaments. The tiny lights hiding in the boughs of greenery she’d strung around the office settled into an even glow and, just like that, the spirit of the season took over. “You sticking around?”

  “Thought I might,” Monty said. “If you don’t mind. I didn’t feel like cooking tonight.”

  “Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge.” Frankie was still riding an adrenaline buzz, so food wasn’t on her mind. With Roman out of commission for a while, she needed to readjust his readjusted schedule. Not completely. She wouldn’t disrespect the changes he’d made—but some allowances would have to be made.

  “Heads up, sis.” Monty jerked his thumb at the driveway. “Buzzkill at twelve o’clock.” He disappeared into the kitchen just as Frankie caught sight of Gil Hamilton coming into the bay.

  Her hands tightened around the pen and clipboard. She hadn’t seen the mayor since Roman had arrived in town. She wasn’t avoiding him purposely; she just assumed the universe had stepped in to prevent a major scene from happening. This meeting was inevitable, and why not add it to today’s shenanigans? It really was the cherry on the melting sundae. “Evening, Mr. Mayor.”

  “Frankie.” Gil’s voice carried the same chill she’d aimed at him. “I just got back from the hospital. Chief Salazar is going to be all right.”

  “Yes, sir.” Frankie nodded. “I stopped in earlier to see him.” And the memory of that visit was going to keep her entertained for weeks, maybe months to come.

  “They’re going to keep him an extra couple of days for observation.” Gil stood on the other side of the desk, looking down at her with a cautious expression. What was he expecting? For her to lunge across the desk at him? Frankie pursed her lips. Wait. Now that she thought about it...

  “Oh?”

  “They’re just being cautious.” Gil leaned over to look past her when he heard banging in the kitchen.

  “Monty’s raiding the fridge,” she said. “There’s plenty food to be had—help yourself.”

  “No, thanks. I have a dinner meeting with Chevy Conroy.”

  Frankie arched a brow. “The new mayor of Durante?”

  “Yes.” A flicker of unease shifted across his face. “We’re discussing options for the opening of the sanctuary. Expanding the potential attendance base.”

  Because Gil’s potential base could never be too large. “Was there something you needed?”

  “It’s been brought to my attention that I owe you an apology. And...” Gil took a deep breath. “An explanation.”

  For the second time that day, Frankie felt as if her feet had been kicked out from under her. “Forget about it.” Today was not the day she wanted to get into things with Gil. “You made your choice. I’ve accepted it.” Mostly.

  “Have you?”

  “Enough that I no longer want to slug you. Plus I’ve had some time to think about it. We don’t like each other, which makes it difficult to work together.” She heard her brother choke and cough in the distance.

  “That’s exactly what I thought.”

  “In fact, it’s probably me who owes you an apology.” It wasn’t often she felt magnanimous around the mayor, so she might as well get this over with while she did. “About the nickname. It was childish and rude.” Actually, what was childish and rude was the fact she still called him by that name, but for today, she could move beyond that.

  “Ah, thanks.” Gil’s frown was one of confusion, and it lifted Frankie’s spirits considerably.

  “I mean, you kind of deserved it, but I could have at least been more original. You know, given you a name that really packed a punch. Something you could have incorporated into one of your campaigns, for instance.”

  “Stop while you’re ahead, Frankie!” Monty called out from the kitchen.

  Frankie bit back her retort, motioning instead for the mayor to take a seat. “What brings you by, Mr. Mayor?”

  “To give you an update about Roman. And to explain. Beyond my not wanting to work with you, Frankie, there was a good reason I didn’t promote you.”

  “Do tell.” Frankie folded her hands on top of the desk. “Please,” she added when Gil narrowed his baby blues at her.

  “You don’t need it.”

  “I’m sorry? I don’t need what?”

  “You didn’t need the promotion. You’ve been the defacto chief for months, Frankie. Heck, maybe years. Bud might have had the title, but you’re the one people rely on. When all is said and done, you are chief.”

  “All the more reason to officially promote her!” her brother chimed in.

  “Shut it, Monty!” Frankie yelled before refocusing her attention on Gil. “So, I’m good enough to do the work, just not have the title or pay that goes with it?”

  “I’m not going to argue that you’re qualified for the position. You and Roman were pretty evenly matched on paper. But maybe you should consider looking outside Butterfly Harbor. You know, spread your wings.”

  “Spread my wings.” Frankie repeated the statement as if testing out the words.

  “Look, let’s be honest, Frankie. You and I are never going to work well together, and Roman won’t be here forever. If I pass you over again once he leaves, it’s only going to be trouble for me, and I can do without that. I’ve got it on good authority the recently elected mayor of Durante is looking for a new chief. I’d be happy to put in a recommendation—”

  “What do you mean Roman won’t be here forever?” A familiar pang of dread hit her. “Once he leaves?”

  Gil’s expression went blank. “I assumed he’d have told you, or that you’d at least have heard.” He shrugged. “Roman’s contract with Butterfly Harbor is only for six months. There’s the possibility of a six-month extension, but he’s not here to stay, Frankie. He’s got his sights set on a big federal investigator’s job. Being chief here is something to boost up his résumé. Nothing more.”

  “Is it?” Frankie’s throat felt hot. “Is it really?”

  “I’m sorry.” Funny. He didn’t sound sorry at all. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you.”

  No, but Roman should have. She’d been right. Men like Roman Salazar didn’t stay. And yet she’d still let herself start to fall a little bit in love with him. Let herself believe... “I appreciate you filling me in. But just so we’re clear,” she added when Gil stood. “Even when he leaves, you won’t be considering me for the position of chief.”

  “No.” Gil took a deep breath, as if considering what to say next. “Once Chief Salazar leaves, there’s every possibility we’ll be closing the department altogether.”

  “What?” Frankie bolted to her feet. “But you can’t... Gil, this town needs a fire department. Emergency services are vital to a town’s survival. People rely on us.”

  “All that’s being taken into consideration. There are contractors we can call in for a fraction of the cost. We can also route the calls to other stations that aren’t too far out. Response times might go up, but it will save the town a huge amount of money and allow us to expand in other areas.”

  “What you’re proposing is going to add even more responsibility to the sheriff’s department,” Frankie said. “Luke’s already stretched thin. And if the town grows the way you want, we’ll need more firefighters, not fewer.” How could he not see this?

  “Again, we’re looking into multiple options. Nothing’s written in stone, Frankie. And there will be extensive debate on the subject after the first of the year. In the meantime, take what I told you and consider your option
s. You’re a great firefighter. Any department would be lucky to have you.” He headed for the door.

  “You’re driving this town into the ground!” Frankie yelled at his back. “What you’re proposing is going to cost people their lives!”

  He disappeared from sight.

  “This can’t be happening.” Frankie flopped into the closest chair, covering her face with her hands as the truth of Gil’s words sank into her. “He cannot be seriously considering this!” She glanced up at her brother and Ozzy, who emerged from the kitchen looking as pale and shaken as she felt.

  “Seems he’s past considering it,” Ozzy said, a glimmer of anger in his eyes. “That sounded like a done deal to me.”

  Roman’s phone buzzed again. Frankie checked the screen, saw Roman’s mother’s name. “I need to take this.” She picked up the phone, stopped in front of her brother. “Whatever it is you know, whatever someone’s planning about taking down Gil, you’ve got my full support. In fact, I’ll lead the charge myself. We have to stop him.” They would not lose the BHFD. Not on her watch.

  “Agreed.” Monty’s steely gaze matched her own.

  Pushing aside her fear, Frankie tapped the screen of Roman’s phone and walked purposely out into the fresh air. “Mrs. Salazar? I’m sorry to have worried you. This is Frankie Bettencourt, Roman’s... I work with Roman. Roman’s fine, but I’m afraid there’s been an accident.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  IF ROMAN HAD his way, it would have been Frankie who’d picked him up from the hospital and driven him back to the station house. He’d missed her and had been looking forward to seeing her again. Alone.

  Instead, he found himself in one of the sheriff’s cruisers with Ozzy behind the wheel. An odd tension filled the car the instant the engine had started. “Everything okay, Oz?”

  Ozzy shrugged.

  “You’re awfully quiet.” Normally the one thing he didn’t have to worry about with the deputy was starting a conversation.

  “Just a lot on my mind. How’s your head?” Ozzy asked.

  “Still attached.” Roman tried to smile. “I suppose I’m the talk of the town. Again.”

  “Well, yeah.” Ozzy shrugged a second time. “But not in the way you might think.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  Ozzy glanced at him, his usually friendly expression mired in distrust. “The mayor stopped by the station house yesterday. He told us you’re only staying about six months. Maybe a year. Said this was just a pit stop for you. Is that true?”

  Roman let out a long breath. “The contract I signed was for six months, yes. That’s not unusual, Ozzy. In fact—”

  “It’s unusual for Butterfly Harbor.” Ozzy glared out the windshield. “People come here, they stick. They don’t use us as a résumé builder.”

  “Boy, he didn’t pull any punches, did he?” Roman should have expected the mayor to retaliate over their initial budget discussion. Gil had bided his time, knew exactly when to strike. “Look, Ozzy...” He trailed off, recalling the deputy’s words. “What do you mean, he told us? Who else knows about this?”

  “You mean other than Frankie?” Ozzy’s smile was humorless and quick. “By now pretty much everyone. Don’t worry. You bailing on us isn’t the main topic of discussion.”

  Roman was almost afraid to ask. “May as well unload it all on me at once, Oz.”

  “The mayor is talking about closing the department. Farming out emergency calls to a contract service or another town.”

  “He’s what?”

  Ozzy glanced at him, clearly surprised, telling Roman the deputy assumed he’d known. “He dropped that bombshell on Frankie, too. Said when you leave, that’ll be the end of the BHFD. Budgetary considerations.” Ozzy rolled his eyes.

  “I’m out of commission for a day and a half and this place goes off the rails. I didn’t know, Ozzy. I swear.” Another shrug from the deputy. “Darn it, cut that out. Stop acting like none of this is a big deal. It’s a big deal.”

  “I agree. Not sure what we can do about it, though.”

  “We’ll do something.” He may have only been here a few weeks, but he wasn’t going to let this happen to such a sweet town. He couldn’t. Not when he’d witnessed firsthand the important role the fire department played, not only in terms of saving people’s lives, but in the community, too. “We’ll figure something out.”

  “Was Gil right about you? Are you leaving?”

  “Not for the foreseeable future, Oz. I’ve made a commitment, and as long as I have my contract, I expect to stick to it.” And he expected the mayor to hold up his end of that contract, as well. “I suppose I don’t have to ask how Frankie took the news.”

  “About you leaving or about closing the station?”

  Both. “The station.”

  “She’s taking up arms. Well, the town is, but Frankie’s leading the charge. All that’s missing is the horse and sword.”

  For now, Roman thought.

  “Did they tell you how long you’re going to be in that cast?” Ozzy glanced over to Roman’s right leg, protected from toe to knee.

  “Six to eight weeks.” If he was lucky.

  “Boy, this is making for one crappy Christmas.” Ozzy shook his head. “First, your broken leg, now this threat to close the department.”

  “We’ll figure it out, Oz.”

  “I hope you’re right.” But the deputy didn’t look convinced as he pulled the cruiser into the spot in front of the firehouse. “I’ll get your crutches out of the back seat.”

  “Thanks.” Roman shoved open the door and planted his good leg on the ground, grateful for the extra moment of quiet and fresh air. Two days in the hospital was enough to drive him slightly around the bend. Finally, he could get his bearings again, figure out how to do his job with one leg holding him back and unravel the knots Gil Hamilton had tied the town into. The Butterfly Harbor fire station had never looked so good.

  Roman accepted the crutches and hobbled away from the car door.

  “Roman Kenneth Salazar!”

  His name snapped through the air, and the blood drained from his face. That voice.

  He knew that voice.

  Roman might have tripped Ozzy, had the deputy not darted out of the way.

  “Mom?” Roman stood there, hands white-knuckled around the crutches, and stared. Could this day get any worse?

  Esmeralda “Ezzie” Salazar, all five feet of her, stood in front of the open garage door, the company’s shiny engine behind her, jet-black hair piled on top of her head in its usual knot. “Mom, what are you—?”

  “What did you think I was going to do when I found out you were hurt? Stay in Boston and fret it out?”

  “Perish the thought.” Why was he being punished? “Mom, stop. Stop! Okay, Mom. Don’t make me use this!” He jumped back two steps as his mother approached, crutch held hip high to ward her off. “I am fine. It’s a simple break and—”

  “And a broken nose and concussion. You bruised your brain!” She pushed the crutch aside and stood before him, her hands on either side of his no doubt red face as she looked him over more closely than the MRI. “You silly, silly boy.” She patted his cheek. “Why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

  He saw it then, glistening in the gaze he saw in the mirror every day. The worry. The anger. The fear. The same fear he’d seen when he’d announced his intention to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a fireman. The same fear he’d seen in Shirley Desmond’s eyes when Amelia had been trapped. The fear he’d pretended not to see on the faces of hundreds of people he’d been called on to help.

  “I’m fine, Mom.” He gentled his tone. “Comes with the job, remember?” Balancing on one leg, he settled both the crutches in his other hand and drew her close. For a moment, he was a five-year-old boy being tended to by his moth
er for a scraped knee and busted lip. “You didn’t have to come all the way out here.” But as she wrapped her arms around him, he was glad she had. She might frustrate him from time to time, but it had been far too long since they’d seen each other. It did raise the question... “How did you know what happened?”

  “Oh, Frankie told me.” Her eyes narrowed when she pulled back to look at him. “She finally answered when I called your phone. I find it interesting you neglected to inform me Frankie is a woman.”

  Yes, yes, she was. A woman he’d had a hard time putting out of his mind the past couple of days. Who was he kidding? He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her from the moment they’d first met. Roman looked over the top of his mother’s head and found Frankie watching them, an amused smile on her stunningly pretty face. He’d missed her. How had that happened? He’d actually missed her. But he didn’t like the disappointed note in her stunning green eyes before she turned and walked back into the station. “Does it matter?”

  “Does it matter? How big a bruise to the brain did you get?” Ezzie patted a hand against her heart. “Certainly, it matters. Now come inside. I’m fixing dinner. You’re both skin and bones.”

  * * *

  “YOU LIKE MY SON.”

  Frankie nearly veered Dwayne off the road. “I’m sorry?”

  Esmeralda Salazar shifted around in the passenger seat and faced her. The older woman possessed an elegance Frankie hadn’t anticipated. Her slim figure displayed the classic black slacks and bright emerald-green blouse perfectly. A thin gold chain around her neck displayed a dainty cross along with what Frankie assumed was her late husband’s wedding band.

  “You like my son.”

  Frankie heard herself gulp. “Mrs. Salazar—”

  “Ezzie. Everyone calls me Ezzie, Frankie.” She pinned those same eyes her son possessed on her. “You like my son.”