Her Holiday Fireman

Chapter Four

Ryan shifted into Reverse and was about to pull out onto Main Street when he spied Mayor Jack Murdoch standing beside his truck. As their gazes met, the mayor motioned for him to stop.

“What’s up, Mayor?” Ryan called.

The old man crossed the road to lean against the fender of the Jeep. “Got a minute? I thought maybe we’d take a ride. Save me the time of showing you around come Monday morning.”

He thought about it. With nothing back in Houston to hurry home to, there seemed no harm in taking a spin around town with his new boss.

“Sure. Why not?”

Nodding, the mayor gestured toward his vehicle. “We’ll take mine.”

By the time Ryan reached the truck, the mayor had the windows down and the engine humming. They made their way along Main then turned left at Vine Beach Road as silence reigned, which was fine by Ryan. He never did well with small talk anyway.

“Where’d you end up settling?” the mayor finally asked.

“Here, actually,” Ryan said as the collection of beach houses came into view around a bend in the road. “The yellow one with the green shutters is mine.” For six months, anyway went unsaid, but barely.

Murdoch answered him with an agreeable nod then adjusted his hat and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “You were something over in Houston. A regular HFD superstar.”

Ryan stole a sideways glance at the mayor and wondered what else the man knew about his days at HFD. “I just watched and learned, and I guess did all right.”

“You did more than all right, boy.” He paused and worked his jaw a bit, looking as if he were chewing on the words he would say next. “I’m sorry about the loss of your wife.”

So he knew. Ryan mustered up a nod of thanks but otherwise kept silent. The polite conversation that went with being a widower had yet to get any easier.

“Must have been tough,” Murdoch said. “What with you being a first responder and nothing you could do to save your bride.”

The image that statement brought forth was one Ryan knew would never permanently leave his mind. The image of his wife floating unconscious, his inability to revive her. It was all there just as if it had only occurred.

“Yeah,” he managed to say, but only because he figured no response would cause Murdoch to keep talking. “So what’s out here that you wanted to show me?” he asked to change the subject.

Up ahead, Pop’s Seafood Shack loomed, its tin roof and pale weathered boards shining almost golden in the afternoon sun. Mayor Murdoch pulled the vehicle to a stop at the edge of the lot and shut off the engine. Instantly the dull roar of the waves filled the air.

While Ryan watched, the mayor reached into his pocket and pulled out a tin. Offering a mint to Ryan, who declined, he then popped one into his mouth. Murdoch chewed on the spearmint for a moment. Finally, he shook his head.

“I’m just going to be plain honest, Ryan. That all right with you?” When Ryan nodded, the mayor continued. “You’re young.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, though it had been a long time since he’d felt it. With thirty on the horizon, old seemed as if it was heading toward him like a freight train.

“When your uncle Mike called me, I didn’t see how I could manage a full-time fireman’s position here in Vine Beach, what with the winter here and the tourists pretty much gone. But Mike and me, we go way back, so I decided I’d do what I could. ’Sides, we were gonna have to replace Carl Berry before tourist season anyway. Thing is, he never took a salary for it, though nobody expected the new guy to do the same.”

He looked to Ryan for a response. “Yes, sir” was the best he could do. Ryan knew Uncle Mike had gone way out on a limb to call in a favor from his old army buddy, but he had no idea the last chief had done it free.

But then Uncle Mike knew how important it had been to Ryan to do as Jenna had asked and make a new life at the beach where the two of them had one day hoped to live. Not in Galveston. It was too soon to move there, given the amount of time they had spent planning their future lives in that city.

Instead, he’d gone to Uncle Mike to ask him to look out for any jobs in beach towns that weren’t too far from Houston and home. To his surprise, the Vine Beach job had come just in time for their anniversary. Even now Ryan didn’t know whether that was an omen or just one more way for him to torture himself about a marriage that was over before it ever got started.

“Then I thought, well, I do need to carefully consider my responsibility to the good people of Vine Beach. And part of that responsibility means keeping them safe, sometimes from themselves. Don’t you agree?”

Now, that was a strange statement. “I suppose so,” he said slowly.

Murdoch’s attention shifted to the restaurant and rested there. “Some folks, they just don’t see the need to follow the rules.” He jerked a thumb toward Pop’s. “A firetrap if ever I’ve seen one. Not that I’m the expert. That’d be you.”

A man didn’t have to look hard to see the potential for danger in the ancient wood structure. And danger was what he specialized in preventing. Strangely uncomfortable, Ryan looked away. Thus far he’d only made one friend in this town, and even that friendship seemed rife with potential problems. Not a good sign.

“Leah—she’s Berry’s daughter—runs the place now that he’s...” Murdoch’s voice trailed off. “Anyhow, she’s just about as hardheaded as it gets, but you probably know that having just spent some time with her.” When Ryan ignored the statement, the older man continued. “Can’t figure why she stays when she had that good job with the historical folks in Galveston.” Murdoch looked at him as if he might have the answer.

Ryan thought back on her reluctance to elaborate on her reasons yesterday. “People do things for all sorts of reasons,” he said. “But not everybody likes to talk about them.”

Murdoch’s harrumph told Ryan how the mayor felt on the topic. After a minute, he leaned back against his seat and toyed with the brim of his cap. He seemed lost in thought. Then, quick as that, he reached to turn the key in the ignition.

As he did, he fixed his attention on Ryan. “I’m no expert but this place probably ought to get a look-over when you start your inspections.”

Ryan shifted position. Whatever ax Jack Murdoch had to grind against the owners of this restaurant, he wanted no part in it. And not because he’d come to know Leah Berry, even slightly. But once again, he found himself thinking of the job he’d been hired to do.

Thus, he answered carefully but firmly. “I figured to start with the schools then the hospital and nursing home since they’re of greater public importance.”

The mayor gave him a curt nod. “Makes sense. But when you do get around to Pop’s, don’t let that pretty redhead distract you from your job. If there are fire code violations, it’s your duty to report them and see they’re corrected.”

“Sir, with all due respect, you hired me to do a job and I intend to do that job,” Ryan said.

Sure, Leah was pretty—especially when her eyes shone as she helped the Wilson girl bait her hook. But Ryan wasn’t about to let anyone compromise his reputation. Not that a woman like Leah would ever ask him to.

He could tell that about her already. She had integrity.

The mayor nodded. “Glad to hear it, son,” he said.

He made a quick left onto a road so narrow the truck’s side mirrors nearly brushed the fence posts on both sides. “See that place over there?”

Murdoch gestured across the highway to the burned-out shell of the once-magnificent Berry home. To the right of the main building were several other structures that he could see much better on close range. The nearest to the road was definitely a weathered barn while the remainder were most likely a collection of storage buildings of some sort.

When he once again spied the horses, Ryan’s interest piqued. He judged them to be outstanding horseflesh, and his fingers itched to grab a bridle and chase one down. Not since his rodeo days had he felt such a tug to be astride a horse galloping across a pasture. And from the look of the land in front of him, there was plenty of space to ride.

A vast golden prairie swept from the lighthouse near the beach to the horizon, the grass swaying with the breeze coming off the Gulf of Mexico. He could almost feel the saddle under him.

Once a cowboy, always a fireman. Ryan’s dad was fond of teasing him with that saying. And yet, there was more to his love for horses than his former glory days as a bronc rider.

“That there’s Berry property, too,” Murdoch said, tearing Ryan from his thoughts. The old man gestured to the land unfolding in front of them. “House was a beauty until the big fire back in March. Too bad about that.” He shook his head. “Well, anyhow, there’s probably a violation or two out there. I’d have to check on the statutes, but I don’t think it’d be safe to leave a building in that kind of condition.”

Ryan sat up a little straighter, interested to hear what the mayor had to say about the Berry fire. “While you’re looking for those statutes,” he said. “I’d appreciate if you’d get me a copy, too.”

“Be glad to.”

“So,” Ryan said as his gaze swept the ruins, “tell me about the fire.”

Murdoch shook his head. “Went up fast, but then the place was close to one hundred and fifty years old. Carl was chief then, but in name only, really.”

“What do you mean?”

Gray brows furrowed. “Well, things stay pretty quiet around Vine Beach. Not a whole lot to do for the fire chief, but then I told you that when you interviewed for the job.”

He had, though Ryan didn’t much mind. Six months here and he’d be gone. All the better if he had an easy run of it.

“Carl hid his trouble pretty well, so while there had been talk of replacing him, nobody on the City Council wanted to be the one to bring it up formally.”

“What was wrong with him?”

“Alzheimer’s disease,” Murdoch said as he shifted into gear and headed the truck back toward the main road. “Once the house nearly burned up around him, well, we all knew something had to be done. That’s when Leah quit her job and came back here to run things.”

“So you’re saying the fire was accidentally set by Chief Berry?”

“I’m saying nothing of the sort. We had a hard rain that night. Could’ve been lightning. Or with the age of this house, a gas leak might’ve been the reason. I just know that whatever happened, Carl’s lucky to be alive. That place went up way too fast.”

“I see.” He watched the landscape roll by, the sea breeze tossing the breakers against the beach in the distance. Something in Jack Murdoch’s tone told him there was more to the story. “So where is he now?”

“Carl? He’s got a little place at the assisted-living facility just down from the harbor.”

He remembered his conversation with Leah regarding her father. Just to see what the mayor would say, he added, “I wonder if I ought to pay him a visit. Maybe get some pointers from him.”

“Wouldn’t advise it.” Murdoch shot him a sideways look. “He’s suffered enough. I’d rather him not know he’s lost his job, too.”

“Wait, you mean he doesn’t know he’s not the fire chief?”

“Didn’t see the need to tell him, and my guess is Leah hasn’t, either.” Murdoch signaled to turn onto Main Street. “Anything you need ought to be in the files, though. Nobody’s messed with them since Carl left. Didn’t need to.” A shrug. “Like I said. Not much happens here in Vine Beach.”

* * *

When he arrived at work Monday morning, Ryan discovered that the mayor hadn’t been exaggerating—not much happened in Vine Beach including fire inspections. While the schools and nursing homes had been checked over most recently, there was nothing in the file that showed the last time Pop’s Seafood Shack had been inspected. Only when he came across a bundle of papers in the back of the filing cabinet did he find a certificate of inspection.

It was dated 1973.

For a second, Ryan considered asking the mayor if he knew where Chief Berry would have kept current inspection certificates for Pop’s. But he quickly thought better of it.

The last thing Chief Berry—or Leah—needed was someone questioning the chief’s work.

On his desk was the list of locations needing inspections. Starting tomorrow he’d be making those visits. He’d get to Pop’s in due time.

And yet, what if the place really hadn’t been inspected in forty years? Could he live with the fact that he’d ignored the information he now had if something happened to Pop’s before he could make his inspection?

Leah. It was possible Leah had the certificates. He picked up the phone and dialed her number.

“Ryan,” she said when she answered. “Good to hear from you.”

In the background he could hear people talking. “Have I caught you at a bad time?”

“Actually we’re getting ready for the lunch rush, but I have a minute.”

“I just have a quick question. You may already know the answer.”

“Sure,” she said as someone called her name in the background. “I’ll try. What do you need to know?”

“I’m looking through the files here and can’t find a fire inspection for your restaurant after 1973. Do you happen to know if your father kept certificates for Pop’s separate from the City Hall files?”

“I can tell you they’re not here. I’ve been doing the paperwork for the restaurant since March and I’ve found nothing like that. Just a bunch of tax stuff. Receipts and the like. Some of it goes way back to before I was born. Apparently Pop didn’t like to throw anything away.” She paused. “At least he kept neat files. He was a stickler for that.”

That matched up with what he’d found here at the office. Still he had to ask once more. “You’re sure? Nothing at all that might look like an inspection?”

“Positive. Why?”

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes as the sinking feeling took hold. “Just wanted to be sure. Thanks.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Just making sure the files here are complete, that’s all.”

“All right.” A loud noise split the silence. “Okay, I’ve got to run, but the offer to try our buttermilk pie’s still good.”

“Thanks, Leah,” he said as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desk.

Unfortunately the next time he showed up at Pop’s Seafood Shack, it wouldn’t be for the pie.

* * *

Leah slid the phone into her pocket then leaned against the counter. What had that been about?

“I’ve got to check something upstairs. I’ll be right back,” she called to Orlando. He waved in acknowledgment then returned to stirring the sauce for the bread pudding.

The warm scent of pudding baking chased Leah up the narrow rear stairway and into the tiny cubicle Pop called his office. Really nothing more than a glorified broom closet with a view, the lone window offered the best place to watch the sun rise and set over the Gulf.

Settling onto Pop’s chair, Leah let out a long breath as she ran her fingers over the handle to the cabinet. Inside were thick files filled with documents related to the restaurant, everything from the building plans to old menus and bank statements. Though she knew the contents by heart, Leah once again searched the files for anything that looked like a fire inspection.

“Leah?” Orlando called. “Everything okay up there?”

She stood and closed the door behind her. “It’s fine.” Leah met Orlando at the bottom of the stairs. His expression told her that he was still curious. “Just looking for some papers,” she told him. “A fire inspection. Do you remember the last time the restaurant had one?”

The cook shrugged. “That was Carl’s department. I just fry the shrimp.”

“And look after me,” she said.

“Just doing what I promised your pop I’d do.” But her lighthearted tone didn’t stop Orlando. “Why’re you asking about a fire inspection?”

Leah didn’t immediately reply. There was no need to upset Orlando.

“You can’t fool me,” he said as he placed his work-roughened hand over hers. “Now just spill it. What’s got you worried?”

All the starch went out of her. “All right. Let me ask you something. Do you think Pop would purposefully skip the fire inspections on this place?”

“Your father’s a good man. I can’t imagine he would do that.”

“Regardless of the reason, I’m afraid that’s exactly what has happened. I’ve got no records on file of inspection results, and I can’t imagine that Ryan would call and ask me to check for them if he had any results on file up at the courthouse.” Tears brimmed, but Leah blinked them back. “We won’t pass, will we?”

To his credit, Orlando appeared to give the question due consideration. Finally he sighed. “I’d like to say we will, but I just don’t know. What I do know is that you’re worrying way too much. Now, why don’t we finish the lunch rush and you can take the rest of the day off?”

“I can’t do that,” she said.

“And why not? Monday evening’s always the slowest night of the week.” He held her at arm’s length. “I promise I’ll call if the crowd gets too big for Kate and me to handle. Okay?”

“You sure?”

“Just as sure as I am that the Lord’s going to handle what we can’t.”

Leah chuckled. “Now you sound like Pop.”

“Good.” He made a serious face. “Now get back to work or I’ll have to tell the manager.”

Chapter Five

With the Monday lunch rush behind her and the evening preparations being handled by Orlando, Leah’s thoughts and her SUV turned toward home. There she could forget for just a little while, maybe immerse herself in a good book and pretend she didn’t have yet another Pop-related issue to deal with.

No fire inspection indeed. She sighed as she climbed out of her vehicle and closed the door behind her. “No,” Leah said under her breath. “I will not worry about that today. Tomorrow has enough troubles of its own. No need to borrow any more.”

Reaching the steps leading to her upstairs porch, a plaintive yowl alerted Leah to the fact she was not alone. She looked up to spy Baby, her oversize orange tabby, sitting midway up the steps and eyeing her lazily through half-open slits.