Marion Ekholm - Forget Me Not

“That darn fire horn.” He glanced down the street. “Better watch it. Any moment, we’ll have volunteers speeding toward the firehouse.” He pointed to the brick building across the street and pulled her away from the sidewalk’s edge. “Here they come now.”

Trish stood there watching as one vehicle after another came down the road with lights flashing and pulled into the firehouse’s parking lot. Was that Moody’s truck? The front was filled with several men...men who’d been on her roof. How could they appear so quickly? The horn had just sounded.

“I’ve got to go,” she said, slipping away from Dave’s grasp. She headed down the street at a near run.

When she reached her house, she saw Craig taking down the ladder. “What happened?” How would anything get finished if they took off anytime the fire horn blew?

“Most of my crew are volunteers.” He placed the ladder on the ground and headed for his van. “Including me.” Trish followed him to the driver’s side. Was he about to take off, too? She grabbed the sleeve of the OSHA green shirt he had pulled over his sweater.

“When will you be back?”

Craig got into the cab, holding on to the door. He leaned over toward her. “When the fire’s out.” She stepped away as he slammed the door and backed out of the driveway, his headlights flashing.

“You okay?”

Trish turned to see Dave Henry standing there on the sidewalk. “Did you think your house was on fire?” he asked as he approached. “You took off looking very upset.”

“I saw Moody’s truck with all the men who had been on my roof. They didn’t finish.”

“They’ll be back.” He glanced at the house and rubbed his arms. “I didn’t take a jacket. Didn’t realize how cold it had gotten.”

Small towns. She had forgotten how familiar people were with each other, how concerned they were for each other’s welfare. She needed to remember that. “Would you care to come in, Mr. Henry? I can offer you some coffee.”

“That sounds wonderful, and please call me Dave. Whenever anyone calls me Mr. Henry, I’m expecting to see my uncle behind me.” He followed her into the house, pausing several times to look around the vestibule before they reached the kitchen.

“Sorry, the heat isn’t up to par. I plan to have Craig look into it when he gets back.” She handed him a cup of coffee from the electric percolator she had left on. She pushed over the cream and sugar. “This should help to warm you.”

Dave stopped rubbing his hands together and reached for the mug without adding any condiments. He held it several moments before taking a sip. “Oh, this hits the spot. So, are you planning to live here? It’s a beautiful house.”

“No. My fiancé and I want to sell it. In the meantime, Craig is fixing whatever needs repairs.”

“Craig Cadman, the handyman who drove off to the fire?” Dave waved a hand in the direction Craig had taken. “I know him. Does fantastic work, and his mother has refinished several antique dressers for us. You’re not the girl he’s been dating, are you? I’d heard he was dating, but I didn’t hear that he’d gotten engaged.”

Trish couldn’t help but chuckle. “No. We’re old friends, but he’s dating someone else.” She held the mug to her lips and looked over the rim at Dave. His blond hair was a little mussed, probably windblown from following her. Otherwise he was as neat as his uncle, although not as intimidating.

“Would you care to look at the antiques while you’re here?” She put her mug down. It would be wonderful to get this chore taken care of so she’d know what other items could be donated to the church.

Dave nodded. “That would be great.” He walked to her counter. “I’ve been checking out these dishes.” After picking one up and looking at the back, he turned to her with an expectant smile. “Any chance you want to get rid of these?”

Trish joined him. “It’s a complete set, with several of the larger pieces in the china cabinet.” Her finger traced the delicate cream-and-gold edge with its tiny pink and yellow roses and some miniature blue flower that looked like a forget-me-not. It had always been her favorite. When she and Harrison had looked at china, though, they’d gone for a more modern geometric pattern. No sense in having two full sets of dishes. “Sure. I’m interested in selling it.”

“Okay if I run back and get a few things? I’ll need to take my own pictures, and frankly, this place isn’t much warmer than the outside. The only thing you’re missing is the arctic breeze.” He gave her a heartfelt smile while he continued to rub his hands.

“Why don’t I drive you?” Since all the work vehicles had gone, she could easily get to her car.

“That would be great.”

They headed out the front door just as Craig pulled in beside her car. When he got out of his van, Trish asked, “You put the fire out already?”

“Nope. I got there too late. The truck had already left.” He stared a moment before extending his hand. “Nice to see you again, Dave. Hope you can give Trish some great deals.”

“Take care of her heat, will you? I’ve got to get back to my place to warm up.”

Craig’s eyebrow went up, and he looked at Trish. “Heat?”

“I forgot to mention, I couldn’t get the furnace to work. The key’s under the mat, and we’ll be back in a little while.”

Once she had the car started, Dave got in on the passenger side. “You have heat in this?” he asked, blowing into his hands as he rubbed them together.

“Yes. You’ll be toasty by the time we reach your shop.”

* * *

CRAIG RETRIEVED THE old-fashioned three-inch key and headed for the basement to check the furnace, an oil burner probably installed a good fifty years ago. No wonder it wasn’t providing any heat. No fuel. When was the last time they had a shipment? He went upstairs, sat on one of the kitchen chairs and dialed the local oil company most people used in the area.

“Hey, Marty,” Craig said. They had been classmates, and Craig graduated a year before Marty did. “When was the last time you delivered to Mrs. Lowery?”

“You mean before she died?”

Craig took a deep breath. “Yes, before she died.”

“Sometime last winter, I guess.”

“Okay, she needs another fill-up.”

“Why, is she alive again?” He cackled, a sure sign he wasn’t taking Craig seriously.

“Since when did you turn into the town’s comedian? Her granddaughter is staying here, and there’s no more fuel. She’s freezing. When can you make a delivery?”

“Who’s paying for it? I already closed Mrs. Lowery’s account.”

“You’ll get your money from the granddaughter.”

“Okay, I’ll make it my last delivery today. Say, isn’t she the Lowery gal you were sweet on?”

“The pipes are freezing, Marty.”

“She’s back in town and you’ve got another girlfriend?”

“Take care of it, Marty.”

“Cyndi Parker, isn’t it? I remember her doing all those splits and backflips as the head cheerleader.”

“Just deliver the oil.” Craig disconnected the call. Living all your life in a small town had definite disadvantages. Who else had been tracking his love life?

About to return the key to its not-so-secret hiding place, Craig stopped. Perfect time to check out that secretary and find that note. He went to the living room and lowered the large desktop just as a car pulled into the drive. Great. Trish was back.

Craig returned the large panel and headed for the front door. He opened it as Trish walked up the stairs with Dave Henry following her. This might be a good chance to get the price for the secretary.

“Found out why there’s no heat. You ran out of fuel. I ordered a fill-up from Marty Cassidy’s Homefuel. It should arrive later today.”