Hearts on Fire Page 4

  Becca was more than a little annoyed.

  Over the past three hours, she’d spoken to every single person who lived in St. Caroline. Felt that way, anyway. Everyone wanted to know where she’d been living, what she had been doing, how long she was home for. People who wouldn’t have given her the time of day back in high school now acted like they’d been friends forever. She needed a break from people for a few minutes. The ferris wheel was the perfect escape, until Jack showed up.

  Why was he here anyway? To talk to her about the fire? To remind her that she was a walking disaster? Believe me, I am well aware of that fact. As is everyone else. The car began to rise into the air, above the lights and noise of the carnival below. Up here, the silence was awkward.

  “I’m sorry about your mom,” she said.

  “Thanks. It’s hard.” A pause, then he added, “you know.”

  Becca nodded. She didn’t know, actually, so she clamped her mouth shut to keep from saying something stupid. She lost her own mother when she was a year old, but she had no memories of her. Michelle Trevor was the only mother she could remember, and she couldn’t fathom losing her even though she was sure her parents and sisters all breathed easier when Becca wasn’t around.

  Their car was descending the back of the ferris wheel now, the breeze lifting up her hair as they dropped. “So how long are you home for?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Until …” He let her fill in the rest of that sentence. “I just got in last night. Probably around the same time you did.”

  She turned her head to look at him, her long hair floating between them like they were underwater. “You just came home yesterday?”

  “Yeah. I just stopped in at the station and then the call came in. Thirty seconds later everyone left. So I tagged along.”

  His eyes were beautiful, a rich brown shade and fringed with long lashes. How had she not noticed that in high school? How had anyone not noticed it? Sure, he had been skinnier back then … and quiet and, well, kind of nerdy. But he couldn’t have looked that much different, could he? His eyes would have been the same, surely?

  “Your dad said it was probably an electrical fire.” Chief Wolfe had swung by the shop after lunch to talk to her father and the insurance agent.

  He nodded. “That’s not unusual around here, especially with the older structures, and the salt in the air.”

  Of course, that still didn’t explain why the wiring chose to burst into flame the very night she arrived. She was bad luck, that’s why. That was a well-established fact. But she nodded agreement, anyway.

  “So how long are you back in town for?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. Probably depends on how long everyone can tolerate me.”

  His hand slid over to cover one of hers. His skin was warm in contrast to the coolness of the restraint bar.

  “I’m sure everyone is happy to have you home.”

  The palm of his hand felt rough on her skin. Like Brandon’s had. The hands of a man who worked with them for a living. Only Jack didn’t work with his hands. He was a lawyer. But the thought didn’t stick in her mind. The feel of his warm skin on hers pushed away any rational thought.

  “Only until they find out how badly I’ve screwed up again.”

  “Hard to imagine how bad that could be.”

  Was that his thumb rubbing lightly over her skin? Yes, it was, and it was interfering with her breathing for some reason.

  “I lost my job, got evicted from my apartment, and my boyfriend’s in jail. Ex-boyfriend now.” She pulled her hand out from under his. “Bad enough?”

  “I dropped out of law school last year.”

  She squinted harder at his hands in the dark. Not lawyer’s hands.

  “Oh. I hadn’t heard that.”

  “No one has. Well, except for you now. You’re the only person who knows.”

  “Why would you tell me?” She looked over at him, suddenly aware of how little room there was between the two of them. From the expression on his face, she could tell he was puzzling out the why behind his impromptu confession, too. Jack Wolfe had dropped out of law school? Her mother definitely would have mentioned that if she knew.

  “I mean, I won’t tell anyone,” Becca hurried to clarify, because no one in their right mind would share a secret like that with her. Not that she would ever rat out Jack Wolfe, but her reputation in town wasn’t exactly sterling. “You know, what happens on the ferris wheel stays on the ferris wheel,” she joked lamely, trying to allay his fears. He was probably kicking himself for telling her that—or entertaining the idea of jumping off the ferris wheel altogether.

  In reality, Becca was extremely good at keeping secrets. The man sitting next to her was proof of that. If he knew her secret, he’d be pushing her off the ferris wheel.

  “I’m sorry about what happened. That night,” he said. He touched her shoulder, then pulled his hand back as if he’d just gotten burned. “The graduation party. I took advantage of you and I shouldn’t have.”

  Wait … he was apologizing to her? She had taken advantage of him. Or taken pity on him, which wasn’t much better. Worse, really.

  “I’ve never talked about it to anyone,” Jack said. “Honestly.”

  No kidding. Hooking up with Becca Trevor wasn’t exactly something a person would brag about. Brandon had made that clear a time or two. Jack Wolfe telling someone was the last thing on earth she was worried about.

  The ferris wheel began to slow. Their ride was almost over, and not a moment too soon. She and Jack didn’t know each other well enough to trade confidences, let alone confessions. What she had told him about her job, apartment, and Brandon wasn’t widely known at the moment, but she would have to tell her parents when her mother got home. Nor would it be widely surprising to anyone.

  But that was all she would ever tell Jack about her life. What happened in Ohio would stay in Ohio. Forever.

  Chapter 5

  “Mmm, these look amazing, Becca.” Natalie picked up the platter of shrimp and chicken kebabs, then opened the door leading from the deck into their parents’ house.

  “Thanks. Still surprised dad let me touch his brand new grill.”

  Natalie’s laughter was like church bells, proper and feminine like everything about her twenty-four-year-old sister. All of the Trevor women were blond and brown-eyed, tan from Memorial Day until Thanksgiving, and possessed of an innate grace and sense of propriety. In the family unit, Becca stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb. Proverbial black sheep. Proverbial everything.

  “Well, mom and dad were apart for what? Twenty-four hours? The grill was definitely not foremost in his mind today,” Natalie added.

  This time, Becca joined her younger sister in laughter. “Remember how embarrassed we were by that when we were kids? Like what would people think if they knew our parents were—” Becca faked a gasp. “—sleeping together?”

  She turned off the grill and followed Natalie inside. The entire family—save Lauren, who lived in California—sat around the large dining room table. Her parents, younger sister Charlotte, and Cassidy, Lauren’s twin. Charlotte was twenty-one. Lauren and Cassidy were twenty-seven. Becca sat down next to her father.

  “I went ahead and brought the wild rice to the table,” her mother said, nodding toward a large bowl in the center. Natalie set the kebabs down next to it.

  “This looks delicious,” her mother added. “Thank you, Becca.”

  Becca had insisted on making dinner for the family. It was the least she could do. Besides, her mother and sisters had just arrived home from Chicago that afternoon after an exhausting week at the trade show.

  “Let me say grace.” Daniel Trevor bowed his head and reached out his hands to his wife on one side, to Becca on the other.

  Her father’s soothing voice was as much a balm to the tumbling emotions inside Becca as it was to the worried parents who brought their children to his pediatrics practice. For a moment, she wished she could just stay here like this�
�listening to her father give thanks for their family, his hand warm and comforting around hers, the fragrance of the meal they were about to eat enveloping them all.

  But it ended, as all good moments do.

  “Amen,” her father concluded. A chorus of “amens” echoed around the table.

  “Well, dig in,” he said.

  Becca ate and listened as her mother and sisters relived their week in Chicago. New products and fabrics. Which trends were emerging and which were fading. Old friends they’d caught up with. The last time Becca had gone to the trade show, she had been in high school. She remembered it as a whirlwind of people and noise. She hadn’t enjoyed it. Her mother, Natalie, and Cassidy thrived on the activity, but to Becca it was the complete antithesis of what she liked about quilting.

  For Becca, quilting had always been a solitary activity. Just her and the fabric, her needle and thread. Her mother was an accomplished traditional quilter, but Becca had never had the patience for traditional quilt patterns. She preferred to just start cutting and see where the fabric and her imagination took her.

  On the wall behind her mother hung one of Becca’s quilts, a large abstract design for which she had hand-dyed the fabrics herself. She should have donated that to the carnival to replace the Thousand Pyramids quilt that had been lost in the fire. In typical Becca fashion though, the idea didn’t occur to her until just now.

  And the anniversary quilt she had been making for her parents? She suppressed a sigh of anger. Of all the quilts for someone to take, it had to be that one. It wasn’t even finished yet! Nor was Becca sure she could recreate it exactly. Because her quilts were so improvisational, each one was a little different.

  “Angie’s home from the hospital.” Her father’s words pulled her from her own thoughts. The conversation had continued around her while she was spaced out. “We ran into Jackie.”

  “Oh? We should go over tomorrow and see her,” Michelle replied. “Did Jack say how she’s doing?”

  “She was in good spirits, he said.”

  Becca watched as her mother processed all the possible implications of that statement. Jack hadn’t said his mother was doing well. Or better, even. Just that her spirits were good. Becca was tone deaf when it came to other people, she freely admitted that, but even she recognized a bald-faced euphemism when she heard it. Sometime in the near future, her mother was going to lose a friend she’d known all her life.

  Then the moment Becca knew was inevitable happened. Cassidy sat up straight with a start. “What about the quilt for the carnival? Mrs. Wolfe donated all her fabric for that.”

  Her parents were silent.

  “Don’t tell me that got destroyed!” Cassidy’s voice rose an octave.

  “No, but not fixable before last night,” their father said.

  “It can’t be restored,” Becca said quietly. “Not well enough to auction off.”

  “All that work!” Cassidy’s fork and knife were trembling in her hands. “We’ve never not donated a quilt to the carnival.”

  “Let’s not talk about this tonight,” their mother said. “There’s nothing to be done about it right now. We’ll all go look at the shop tomorrow.”

  “You didn’t stop on your way into town?” Becca asked.

  “I wanted to.” Cassidy waved her fork in the air until her mother reached over and gently pushed her arm down to the table.

  “We’re all too tired today,” Michelle said. “We’ll inspect the damage in the morning, then set about looking for new space to lease.”

  “It’s July,” Cassidy said. “No one gives up their lease until the end of the season.”

  “I’ve already called a realtor,” their father cut in. “There’s a place on Azalea that’s still empty.”

  Cassidy rolled her eyes. “That place? That building is cursed. There’s a new business in there every summer. Half the time, they don’t even last until August.”

  “I’m sorry,” Becca said. Her older sister was right. Finding available retail space in the middle of the summer was going to be difficult. Anything open was likely problematic—too small or weirdly configured or too little foot traffic.

  Or just plain cursed.

  Every town had those retail locations, the ones that were a revolving door of failed cafes and boutiques. Every summer, a new set of dreams dashed by reality.

  She had prevented Jack Wolfe’s dreams from being dashed by reality. She had dashed her own, instead.

  A light knock sounded on the bedroom door, then her mother’s tired but smiling face appeared.

  “Mind if I come in?”

  Becca slid over on the bed to make room for her mother. “I like what you’ve done with this.” She waved her hand at the four walls of her old bedroom; she had given her mother permission to do it over as a guest room. Not that her mother needed permission, seeing as it was her house.

  Gone was the border of black skulls a teenaged Becca had stenciled around the room, just below the crown molding, and the “artfully” ripped curtains on the windows. Even the inside out quilt she had made, the one with the seams exposed, was gone. Well, probably just packed away somewhere, knowing her mother. Her mother would never throw away a quilt, even one made by a teenager who’d thought she was so clever.

  “Do you?” Michelle bounced gently on the bed. “We replaced the mattress, too. Let me know if it’s too firm. You can always sleep in Natalie’s old room.”

  Downstairs, the house was quiet. Dinner was—blessedly—over. Her father was reading in his study. Cassidy and Natalie left for the apartment the two of them shared near the college. Charlotte had gone out to meet a friend for an after dinner coffee.

  “I’m sure this will be okay, mom.” She thought of the mattress lying on the lawn of the apartment building in Ohio, soaked with rain. She wondered if all that had gotten cleaned up. Probably I was supposed to do it. Too late now. None of her sisters would ever get evicted. She’d bet her last dollar on that, and her last dollar was in her wallet right now.

  She felt her mother’s arms wind around her shoulders and she gave into the tight hug. Her mother was a softer version of Becca’s sisters, her body widened and relaxed by middle age and childbearing. She inhaled her mother’s perfume and was immediately transported back to earlier days in this room, days that had always ended in a hug—even if it was yet another day when Becca had gotten suspended from school or caught drinking beneath the bleachers or failed an exam.

  “I’ll pay you and Daddy back for the insurance deductible.”

  Her mother pulled back and frowned. “What? Nonsense. You didn’t cause the fire.”

  “I might have. By turning on the lights upstairs, I might have stressed the wiring.”

  “If that stressed the wiring, the wiring was ready to go.”

  “I’ll get a job and pay you back. Every penny. I promise.”

  Michelle studied her daughter’s face for a moment, then shook her head. “Your father and I have more than enough money to cover the deductible. That’s not even a worry of mine.” She tucked a lock of Becca’s hair behind her ear. “What is a worry of mine is why you blew into town late at night without telling anyone you were coming. Not that Daddy and I aren’t happy to have you, but two weeks ago you weren’t able to get off work and now here you are.”

  “I lost my job.”

  “Okay …” Her mother’s expression was guarded, but calm.

  “And got evicted from the apartment.”

  “And …?” Her mother knew her well enough to know there was always an “and.”

  Becca took a deep breath. “And Brandon got arrested.”

  Her mother’s eyes widened in alarm.

  “I wouldn’t bail him out.” This time.

  “I should hope not.” Michelle pulled Becca into another hug. “Oh, Bec. I’m glad you came home. You need to get away from all that.”

  “I got fired, actually.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  Hot tears burned the i
nsides of Becca’s lids. “I was trying to help someone. There was this ass- jerk—”

  “Asshole,” her mother completed Becca’s aborted word.

  “He was harassing a patron and I was trying to intervene. He got mad and smashed a beer glass on the bar.”

  “Why would you get fired for that?”

  “He was the owner’s brother, it turned out.”

  “I’d say you’re better off not working for someone like that, then.”

  She felt her mother’s hand smoothing her hair, and the familiarity of the gesture shamed Becca. How many times had her mother done this with her? More times with Becca than with all her sisters combined.

  “And I lost the quilt I was making for your anniversary.”

  The hug loosened and then her mother was thumbing away the tears on Becca’s cheeks. “Daddy and I weren’t expecting any gifts. Don’t worry about it.”

  “I’ll pay you back, mom. I really will.”

  “You know how you can pay me back, sweetheart? Spend the summer here and let daddy and I help you get your life back on track.”

  “I want to pay you back in—”

  “Then work at the quilt shop with me. I’m losing Charlotte as soon as she finds a job in Washington.”

  Work at the quilt shop that currently doesn’t exist. “That’s hardly paying you back. That’s just taking your money and giving it back to you.”

  Michelle laughed softly, her brown eyes lighter now behind her tortoise-colored glasses. “Reopening the shop in a new location is going to be a lot of work. Plus, we have our first-ever quilter’s retreat at the Inn coming up.” She stood to leave, but turned back at the door to look at Becca again. “Don’t worry. I’ll get my money’s worth out of you.”

  Chapter 6

  The morning sunlight glinted off the pond behind the cabin Matt Wolfe rented, and Jack let the glare and shine dazzle his tired eyes for a few minutes. He’d been awake since three. Thanks to his overnight security job in California, his internal clock was all shot to hell. He stepped out onto the narrow back porch and knocked back another slug of coffee.