Allie Pleiter - Falling for the Fireman

She laughed at herself, holding conversation with wood and plaster. Still, the building and she were old friends of a sort. How many times had she passed by this neglected spot in such a prime location just across from the firehouse, pondering what she could do with it if she ever got the chance? Every couple of months, she’d slow down as she drove past it with its forlorn for-sale sign. She would toy with the idea that someday, when the timing and the finances were right, it might be time to expand, to leave the cramped quarters over by the river and make a go of it on Gordon Falls’s center stage. She’d have enough space in here to really utilize her online gift basket business—growing fast enough, thank the Lord, to keep her going over this tough time. She’d been bursting out of her riverfront home and shop already. Now, being stuck in this apartment and borrowing the church’s industrial kitchen to cook, wasn’t going to cut it much longer.

Jeannie took a deep breath, watching the way the light striped through the dusty air. Though some details were lacking, she could feel her future in here. The whole enterprise still seemed steeped in possibility—one of the things that kept her going these days. Nicky had jokingly called the project “Mom’s other baby.” How glad he was that his mother found somewhere else to put her attention. He wasn’t far off the mark. It felt as though if she didn’t move forward at full speed, she’d stop all together. For the thousandth time she thought of the little sign she’d seen in the hospital lobby the night Henry died. It said, “You never know how strong you can be until strong is the only choice you have.”

Jeannie ran her hands over beams and dusty shelves, drawing motivation from the possibilities. She’d have twice the room for stock in this place. She could have internet kiosks for customers to order for relatives and friends back home. Maybe even a class or two in that big side room off the kitchen. “I need you, you need me. We’re business partners. God set it up that way and nothing is going to stop us now.”

“Except maybe me, the insurance company and a handful of building codes,” came a deep voice from behind her. Jeannie spun around, nearly yelping in a most unprofessional manner, to find Chad Owens standing in what would be the front doorway.

Chapter Two

A set of blueprints she’d bumped began to cascade off the folding table, and Jeannie just managed to save them from a swirl of dust. “I didn’t hear you come in.” She started to say that just because the building didn’t have a working door didn’t mean a person shouldn’t knock, but kept quiet. Chad would make Nicky happy later this afternoon, if George’s plan worked, so she shouldn’t complain. Besides, she figured it would be wise to stay on good terms with the fire marshal when rehabbing a eighty-seven-year-old building on a tight time schedule.

“Obviously.” Chad wore a dark green turtleneck that wouldn’t have looked half as severe on any other man. He never dressed starkly—mostly like a man who never put much thought into how he looked—but somehow everything about him managed to have sharp edges. Even his green eyes, which currently held an unsettling hint of amusement, flashed more murky than mossy under his short, dark hair. “Do you always talk to empty rooms?”

“Henry used to say I could think only with my mouth moving.” She’d always thought it funny but now it just sounded foolish.

“Your late husband?”

It startled her that he had to ask; everyone in town knew Henry. Had Chad really not been in Gordon Falls long enough to have known him? “Yes. We lost him in a car accident when Nicky was six.” It felt odd to realize someone she knew hadn’t known Henry. As if it signaled just how long Henry had been gone.

His stance softened a bit at her answer, as if tripped up by the tragedy. Chad was as athletic as any of the firemen he worked with, but he moved like a man who would have preferred to take up less space in the world. If he ever got excited about anything, she’d never seen it.

Well, she wouldn’t allow him to do his wet-blanket routine in this place this morning. She pointed to the amazing woodwork near the top of the walls. “Isn’t this moulding incredible? It’s artwork. Why would anyone think covering up such craftsmanship with one of those boring industrial drop ceilings was a good idea? Outlaw that in one of your building codes.”

“Some people think new is better, no matter what.” Chad looked up at the partial latticework of steel strips that had held up one of those horrid 1970s foam-tile ceilings and scratched his chin. His strong features could have been dashing if his personality would just lighten up, but he always seemed rather sad. He followed her gaze up to the wondrously curvy wood moulding. “Scraping the old paint off all those curlicues won’t be an easy job.”

Jeannie palmed the fat arc of a wooden support column, ignoring his pessimism. The store had six thick columns running down each side of the long narrow shop. They were stately things no one ever put in buildings anymore. When she was finished, each column would bear rounds of wrought-iron display baskets, brimming with salt water taffy and her famous chocolate-covered caramels; a forest of sweetness down either side of the aisle. “Oh, I won’t scrape those,” she said, pointing upward. “I love the texture of all those layers. All those years, all that history. They’ll be stunning when I paint them up in bright colors.”

Chad simply stared at the ceiling with his hands in his pockets. She wondered, by the tilt of his chin, if he was trying to see what she saw. Perhaps he was just categorizing her as a loony optimist, a thorn in his side as the fire marshal and building inspector who had to sign off on all her ambitious remodeling plans. He surveyed the entire ceiling before bringing his gaze down to her with narrowed eyes. “Are you going to paint all the exposed ductwork up in bright colors, too? The sprinkler pipes and such?”

Jeannie leaned against the beam, wincing as it groaned a bit. The late-September wind whistled through something behind her, announcing the gap-toothed age of the windows and doors. She spoke over the sound. “Of course. I’m going to paint everything bright colors.”

He sighed, a sound considerably more weary than the building’s aged whistle. “I was afraid of that.”

“You don’t see it? The energy, the kids on summer vacation, the tourists buying goodies for their family back home? The noisy students after school and on Saturday mornings?” It was so clear to her, she couldn’t imagine anyone not picturing the vivid image.

“I see outdated plumbing and old wires and no sprinkler system. I see a whole lot of work, frankly.”

“You’ve no imagination.” She sighed. “That’s sad.”

“I’m paid to see exactly what’s there. That’s safety.”

The insurance adjuster was going to be here any minute, and Jeannie wasn’t going to let Chad Owens rain on her parade. Not today. Jeannie set about unrolling the blueprints, weighting down its curling corners with the thermos of coffee and box of cookies she’d brought for the meeting. “You don’t have to set foot in here once you’ve signed off on my permit,” she called over her shoulder as she heard Chad’s boots traveling the floor with calculated, assessing steps. “You don’t ever have to cross over from your dark and gloomy side of the street if you don’t want to.”

Chad stopped and looked at her. “Dark and gloomy?”

“I wasn’t talking about the decor.” In fact, the fire station across the street was another local landmark, a majestic stone castle with bright red trim on the windows and a trio of enormous red doors. The Gordon Falls Volunteer Fire Department stood as a hub of activity and civic pride. Lots of people loved the firehouse, as she had before her association with the place became a little too personal. She used to be the kind of person who loved candles, too, but now she couldn’t even strike a match. There was a reason she was bricking up the fireplace in here.