That Old Flame of Mine (20 page)

The night shift started packing up to leave even as Greg Lambert continued his sputtering while trying to punch numbers into his cell phone. Stella ignored him and took her team home.

Chapter 23

E
veryone was worried as they cleaned and put away their gear. “She can’t just shut down the pepper factory,” Royce said. “They won’t let her do that.”

“I don’t think so,” JC answered. “She’s the law when it comes to fires.”

“I’m worried too,” Allen confessed. “The old man could disband the fire brigade.”

“That’s not going to happen.” Ricky was still cleaning dust from his boots. “The chief is Carson’s granddaughter. He wants her to stay. He’ll have to look the other way. Maybe even get that stuff taken care of.”

Marty laughed. “He doesn’t know how to look the other way—take it from me.”

Ricky glared at him. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, old son, but I’m gonna find out. You’ve never done an honest day’s work in your life. Suddenly, Stella comes to town and you’re a Good Samaritan. What are you worried about? Or maybe it’s your
mother
that’s worried.”

There were a few snickers at that remark. No one said anything else about it as Stella finished putting away her gear and looked around.

She’d heard the entire conversation. She didn’t plan to get into a discussion of whether or not what she’d done at the factory was right or wrong. She’d never questioned a decision by Chief Henry at home—she expected her volunteers not to question her decisions here—at least not to her face.

She knew she was within her jurisdiction to shut down the factory until repairs could be made. What was going on out there was a disaster waiting to happen, complete with loss of lives and serious property damage. She had to assume the county firefighters had been willing to look the other way since the factory was a large source of tax revenue.

As far as she was concerned, the duct problem and the emergency access to water had to be addressed. She knew she might have to compromise and give her grandfather a time frame in which to address the problem, but shutting the place down would catch everyone’s attention.

Not that she had any doubt that people would be pounding on her door by morning.

“Good job out there tonight,” she said to everyone before she left the firehouse.

Hero was at her feet, wagging his tail. Sylvia had joined him, waiting for David and Kimmie to finish their cleanup and change clothes. The two dogs sat looking up at her as though they were listening to everything she had to say.

“We’ll set up to practice getting in gear and on the trucks tomorrow, about three. Does that work for everyone?”

No one disagreed, and the practice was set for the next day. Stella said good night to her team and patted both dogs on the head before she left.

She was exhausted as she walked to the Cherokee. It had been a rough couple of days. It didn’t look very promising for the next few days either. She needed a Coke and a good night’s sleep.

The ride up the road to the cabin was accomplished too quickly. Stella sat in the Cherokee for a long time, thinking about everything that had happened.

What would her grandfather think when he heard that she’d shut down the factory? No doubt, he’d already heard. Had she really crossed some invisible line, taken a step that would taint everything good she’d done here?

Her ribs ached, and her head was pounding. She didn’t want to leave the quiet, warm sanctuary of the SUV—she wished she could just sit there until morning, then get on her miraculously repaired bike and go home.

None of that was going to happen. Her father and others had always said she was stubborn. Maybe the actions she’d taken wouldn’t look so bad in the morning. There was nothing else to do but wait for it.

Stella finally forced herself out of the vehicle, up the stairs, and to the cabin door. The door opened as she approached, and the inside lights came on. There was a fire crackling in the hearth and coffee perking in the kitchen.

“Wow.” She tried to keep her teeth from chattering. “I’d either like to hire or marry you, Eric. You’re the best roommate anyone could want—except for spying on me when I’m getting dressed.”

“I know you wanted Coke,” he said in his husky voice. “But you should have something hot.”

“You heard that, huh?”

“Proximity to my space. You should get out of those dusty clothes too.”

“You
would
say that.”

“It’s nice that you still have a sense of humor. You’ve had a busy night.”

Stella didn’t care at that point if Eric stood inside the small shower stall with her. She stripped off her clothes and stood in the hot water until all of it was gone.

Shivering in her T-shirt and shorts, a blanket wrapped around her, she went back to the living room to sit in front of the fire.

“I put some brandy in your coffee,” Eric said. “I think you need it to ward off a chill.”

“You have brandy here somewhere? Bring out the bottle.” She grabbed the coffee from the table, sat down on the comfortable sofa, and leaned back with the cup in her hands.

“I don’t think you want a hangover tomorrow morning.”

“Maybe not, but a little buzz would feel good tonight. God, my ribs hurt.” She sipped the coffee and brandy mixture. He’d put a
lot
of brandy in it. It burned nicely going down.

“Just relax for a while. Stress and exhaustion make injuries hurt more. You’ll feel better. Have you eaten?”

“I don’t remember.” She picked up her laptop and turned it on. She wasn’t going to be able to sleep right away. She might as well put more information from Tory’s folder into the laptop.

“Damn!” The computer file she’d been using to store that information had gone corrupt. “Now I’ll have to start all over again.” Probably because of all the glitches. She never had this much trouble with her laptop back home. Maybe it was the mountains that caused the problems she’d been having.

A few minutes later, she smelled bread toasting. “You cook too?”

“A little. I used to love to cook. I thought you knew and that’s why you asked about a pepper recipe for the festival.”

“It was more like desperation since I don’t cook at all.” She set down the laptop and went to get her toast. “Thanks. It must be hard for you.”

“Being dead?”

“I suppose so.” She didn’t want to think about what had happened to him when the grain silo fell in on him. It was every firefighter’s worst nightmare. “Mostly lonely. Forty years without anyone to talk to is a long time.”

“I know.”

“Why do you think I can hear you?”

“I can’t imagine. I’ve tried talking to other people. Then one day, you were here.”

“And I was naked in the hot tub and I could hear you.” She smiled as she buttered the toast. “Maybe that’s the key. Did you try talking to any other women?”

“Yes. No hot tub, though.”

“Maybe we can find something on Wikipedia about it.” She went back and sat down with her laptop.

“What’s that?”

“Just all the information in the world at your fingertips.” She typed in “ghost” and got a thousand returns. “It’s hard to say what’s real and what’s not.”

“This is a lot of information.” His voice was right at her shoulder. He was looking at the laptop too.

Stella read through as much as she could. “I don’t know.” She put the laptop back down on the table. “I can’t focus anymore. I’m sorry. You can keep looking, if you like.”

“There may not be an explanation, not a logical one anyway. Take it from me, when I woke up here, I was amazed.”

“What was it like? What do you remember?”

“I ran into the grain silo to pull Ricky Hutchins out before the building collapsed. Then I was here. I didn’t know what had happened at first. Then slowly, as people stopped coming around and I couldn’t leave the cabin or the firehouse, I realized that I must be dead.”

All in all, Stella thought it could be worse. She didn’t say so. There was a terrible hollow sound to his voice that tugged at her heart. “And what about being able to see you? How does that work?”

“I don’t know. There’s no guide book.”

She saw his shadowy form standing near the door to the deck. “You know, if you get to see me naked, I should get to see you.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I’ve thought about what you said, Stella.”

“That must be why you were so quiet earlier. I assume this means you’ve come to a decision.”

“I’ve lived alone for a long time. I didn’t want anyone else here. I never dreamed of interacting with anyone again.”

“I understand,” she muttered sleepily, settling back on the sofa. “This is different. I think you should go for it. From what I’ve heard, you weren’t exactly a cautious man in life. Why start now?”

“I don’t think you
do
understand. I’ve tried looking in the mirror. I can’t see myself. I could be really disgusting. I’m not so old that there weren’t horror movies out when I was alive. Nothing compared to what I’ve seen on TV lately—I don’t want to scare you away. I think you should be ready for it. If you say I look like a zombie or something, I can go back to being invisible right away. Can you handle that?”

Stella’s head fell to one side. She let out a muffled snore.

“Stella?” He looked down on her. All that preparation had been for nothing. He touched her hair, then left her to sleep. Maybe it was for the best anyway. If he’d been burned in that fire the way people said, what could he expect her reaction to be?

He took her up on her offer of looking at the computer. It might be possible to find out a few things. Google, huh? Funny name.

Ghost appearances
. Hmm.

Chapter 24

T
here was a loud pounding going on in Stella’s dream. At least she thought it was her dream—until she emerged from her blanket cocoon on the sofa. She realized that not only was someone really pounding on the cabin door, someone was also shouting her name in an angry tone.

“Morning,” Eric said. “I hope you’re feeling better because I think all hell is about to break loose.”

“Yeah.” She ran her hand through her hair, which seemed to be standing up all over her head. She wasn’t answering the door in the blanket. Whoever it was would have to wait.

“There’s still coffee left from last night,” Eric told her. “Or Coke in the fridge.”

“Hold that thought.” She ran into the bedroom and threw on a pair of jeans and a Sweet Pepper T-shirt. She groaned when she saw her new dress from last night was still stuffed into the bag she’d brought home after the fire.

Stella ran a comb through her hair and put on some socks. Then she walked calmly to the door in the kitchen and threw it open. It was barely seven a.m.

“I only want to understand what happened at the plant last night.” Ben Carson brushed by her and walked into the cabin. “Did you lose your mind? Did someone pay you to do this? What in the hell is going on?”

“I know you’re surprised, but you shouldn’t be.” She closed the door.

Her grandfather faced her, deep furrows in his forehead. “You shut down my factory, Stella. Several hundred people won’t be able to go to work today. I’ll lose a fortune being closed. What were you thinking? Why didn’t you call me so we could talk about this like rational people?”

She yawned as she poured a glass of Coke. “Would you like some?”

“No, I don’t want anything—except an explanation. My blood pressure is probably high enough right now to kill an ox. If you were anyone else, I’d have you fired.”

“If
you
were anyone else, you’d either be arrested for these safety violations or you wouldn’t be in business anymore.”

“I can’t believe my own flesh and blood could do something like this. What did they teach you up there in Chicago anyway?”

Stella sat down on the sofa and smiled when she saw the fire had been refreshed. “They taught us that a large corporation, like the pepper-packing plant, has to have its own water source. More important, the fire department has to be able to access it. If that ductwork had produced a serious fire last night, the pumper wouldn’t have had enough water to take care of it. You, and your workers, would’ve been looking at a big pile of ashes this morning.”

“You’re being melodramatic. We’ve been handling things this way for a hundred years. It’s been fine up until now.”

“Maybe it’s time for things to be different. I know you had something to do with bringing me here for this job. I did what you hired me to do last night. Every time you let that dust in the ductwork smolder, you take a chance on people’s lives. Do you understand
that
?”

He suddenly sat down in the chair near the fire, as though his legs wouldn’t hold him any longer. “This is a public relations nightmare. People are expecting me to react in a certain way.”

“You mean, people are expecting you to make sure I get fired?”

“That’s absolutely true.”

“I guess that’s your call.”

He got to his feet, agitated, and walked around the limited space in the cabin. “I don’t want to have you fired. I want this to work out, for both our sakes.”

She shrugged, not wanting to get fired either but not willing to neglect what she saw as her job. “What did you have in mind?”

He sat down again, his large, knuckled hands clasped loosely together, elbows on his knees. “A compromise. I admit to neglect in not taking care of the factory the way I should. I pay the fine. You give me thirty days to get the ductwork where it should be.”

Stella thought it over. It would be the same with any large employer in Chicago too. There would be a compromise so that the fire hazard would be taken care of and the employer could keep his business running.

It was more than she’d expected of him. He must really want her to stay. “It’s a deal—but I need to start seeing progress on the job. I don’t want to go down there next time and have to pull bodies out of the factory.”

“You might look like your mother and your grandmother, but you’re a lot like me. You drive a hard bargain. I’ll start work right away on the problem and have a conventional hose connection put on the water tower.”

“That sounds good. Thank you.” She reached to shake his hand.

His brown eyes twinkled. “Can we seal this bargain with a hug instead?”

Stella couldn’t argue with that. He put his arms around her and pulled her close for a moment. She smiled when he stepped back. “I appreciate your cooperation.”

“You realize that you haven’t called me by name since we met. I don’t expect ‘Granddad,’ but ‘Ben’ would be okay. For now.”

“Sorry. It’s been a little awkward finding out about all of this. Ben, it is.”

“That’s just fine. If you feel motivated to call me Granddad or Pawpaw, as we do around here, that would tickle me.” He looked around the cabin. “Are you sure you won’t let me get you a decent place to stay? This is hardly big enough for a dog to turn around and lay down.”

“I like it,” she told him, seeing something different than he did. “I’m comfortable here.”

He shook his head. “Old Chief Gamlyn always liked it too. He and I had a few meaningful conversations here when he was alive. He built this place, you know, and the firehouse. He was an intelligent, resourceful man. We had our run-ins from time to time. He was a lot like you, Stella, a stickler for the rules.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t make you take care of those ducts forty years ago.”

“We’d been discussing that very thing when the county decided to take over the fire service and Chief Gamlyn died. That kind of ended that conversation. The county has been willing to look the other way. I pay a lot in taxes. They respect that.”

She wasn’t sure if Eric whispered in her ear or she just thought of it, but she remembered her discussion with him about Adam Presley, Tory’s first husband.

“In looking through evidence on Tory’s death, I noticed her first husband died in a fire too. I understand you and Chief Gamlyn also had some words about that investigation.”

“I thought they arrested Victor and that insurance investigator for Tory’s death. Why are you interested in what happened to Adam after all these years?”

“I thought it was curious. It said in Chief Gamlyn’s . . . notes . . . that you didn’t want him to investigate Presley’s death.”

“If I remember correctly, Adam died from dropping a cigarette in his lap when he fell asleep watching television. I didn’t see what there was to investigate then, and I still don’t. How could that possibly tie into Tory’s death?”

“I’m not exactly saying it could.” She wasn’t going to get anywhere if he got upset again. “I was wondering why he cited you particularly in his notes about not wanting an investigation.”

“I was probably trying to be conservative with the town’s funds. Chief Gamlyn and the police chief at that time, Walt Fenway, were determined that something other than an accident had killed Adam. I didn’t see it. There was no point carrying on about it—especially since it was only a few days until the festival. You don’t realize how important the festival is to Sweet Pepper. It might have ruined us.”

“I see. Thanks, Ben.” Stella wasn’t willing to fight that battle until she knew a little more about it.

Her grandfather looked relieved. “All right. You’re welcome. Let’s reschedule that dinner from last night. Maybe next time your volunteers can take care of the problem without you.”

She walked him to the door. “We’ll do that.”

He hugged her again. “I’m glad you’re here, Stella. It makes me feel things might still be all right with me and your mother. I can’t tell you what that would mean to me. It would be like having part of Abigail back again.”

Stella stood on the porch and watched the shiny black Cadillac drive away.

“You believe him?” Eric asked.

“I don’t know. I think he’d do or say whatever is best for him, like anyone else.” She went back in the bedroom and put on her boots. “I was expecting less honesty about getting rid of me, weren’t you? Maybe it really matters to him if I stay or not.”

“Maybe.” He watched her try to start her laptop. “There may be a problem with that. I tried to use it last night. It kind of died, I think.”

“Great.” She got her tote bag out and put the laptop in it. “I think ghosts may be bad for computers. I’ll have to take it back to the shop. That man is going to think I’m crazy.”

“Sorry. You were right about everything being on that gadget.”

She put on her sweatshirt jacket. “Have you thought about a pepper recipe for me?”

“Yes. I’ll see if you have the ingredients here. Are you going to eat something before you go?”

Stella grabbed a package of toaster pastries from the cabinet. “Breakfast of champions. See you later, Eric.”

“About our conversation last night—seeing me—”

“Oh. Sorry about that. I guess I fell asleep. We’ll have to talk later.”

“Later.” He hoped he didn’t sound too disappointed.

Stella munched on her breakfast as she drove the Cherokee to town. She dropped the laptop off with Charlie Johnson again. He shook his head.

“What are you doing with this poor piece of equipment?”

“It wasn’t me,” she insisted. “The file I was using was corrupted. I lost some information.”

“I hope you still have a hard copy, in case it can’t be retrieved.” He was looking at the laptop with his glasses perched on the edge of his nose.

“I do. I hope I don’t have to type all of it back in again.”

“I’ll see what I can do. What’s that file called?”

“Adam Presley. Thanks, Charlie. I think all the ghostly activity might be to blame.”

He laughed. “I guess you’ve finally come around to our way of thinking. I’ll call you when this is done.”

Stella thanked him and left his shop. Chief Rogers was leaning against her vehicle, waiting for her, when she came out. “I heard you were busy last night. Closed down the pepper plant, huh? I’ll bet that went over big with the old man.”

“We came to an agreement.” She wasn’t giving away any information to him. He certainly didn’t share with her.

“So, when are you leaving?” he asked with a grin.

“I told you—we worked it out. I’m not going anywhere. Not yet anyway. You’re stuck with me for now.”

She laughed to herself as she saw the momentary look of complete amazement on his face. He hadn’t been expecting that. He frowned and left without another word.

Stella was driving away from the computer shop when she saw John. He was just arriving at town hall in his uniform. She stopped and asked for a minute to talk to him.

He looked surprised when she requested Adam Presley’s old police file from the original case. “Do you think that has something to do with what happened to Tory?”

“I don’t know. I guess you’ve got someone in custody for that. I’d like to compare what the police have on file with what Tory gave me that she’d collected. Since it was a death by fire, I’d like to take a look.”

He nodded. “Sure. I don’t see why not. Would you like to get coffee?”

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to go through another round of him trying to get close and then suddenly remembering who she was and running away. Besides, she had work to do.

“I wish I could, but I’m meeting with some people from the festival about contest judging. Maybe later.”

“Judging, huh? You should’ve said no.” He smiled to lighten his harsh voice. “I’ll look for that file and give you a call.

Stella realized that she’d had no idea what she was letting herself in for when she agreed to judge the chocolate part of the festival’s pepper recipe contest.

Elvita and Theodora flagged her down outside town hall. It seemed she wasn’t getting ready for the festival fast enough for them. They whisked her away to the dressmaker, a tiny, birdlike woman named Molly Whitehouse. Molly took her measurements and made suggestions for what would look best on her.

“With your coloring and that lovely red hair, I think a nice periwinkle would look wonderful on you.” Her announcement brought raptures of agreement from the other two women.

“The theme this year is ‘Peppers around the World,’” Elvita explained. “We were thinking your dress could be French in design since you’ll be judging pepper and chocolate entries, after all.”

“That sounds . . . fine.” Stella smiled, not sure about the connection between chocolate and France.

“Molly will whip up a beautiful French gown for you, compliments of the Sweet Pepper Festival Committee. It will be perfect,” Theodora promised.

“Vivian Carson will be wearing something Swedish. She’ll be judging fish-and-pepper entries,” Elvita said. “And Jill Wando, the mayor’s wife, will be judging chili recipes. She’ll wear a South American dress.”

“Not designed by
me
,” Molly added. “They both have their own dress designers, thank you very much.”

“Ignore them, Molly.” Theodora squeezed the little dressmaker. “You’re the best.”