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  “I’m not an investigator, mind you. Just an old fireman. I suspect an electric blanket. It looks to me like the fire started in the bedroom. On the bed.”

  “They left an electric blanket on?” she asked. “And that could start a fire?”

  “It didn’t even have to be turned on,” he said. “It’s best to wait on the investigator to make a judgment, but I’ve seen it happen. I don’t think that house is for rent anymore.”

  “What am I going to tell Mr. Templeton?” she thought aloud.

  “You can start off by telling him there was a fire in his house, a pretty bad one, and the place isn’t a total loss but it’s uninhabitable. We’ll call someone to come out and make sure it’s locked and the windows are boarded up. Wouldn’t want anyone to go in there and get hurt. Wouldn’t want what survived to be damaged or stolen. We don’t have a lot of that sort of thing around here but...” He shrugged. “The damage is considerable.”

  “I’ll say,” she replied.

  “So much for your vacation,” the first man offered.

  “I wasn’t here for a vacation,” Kaylee said. “I was here to work. I rented it for six months of quiet so I could finish a project. Hey, can I look around in there? So I can tell Gerald what it looks like?”

  “You can’t go in there. It’s hot, steaming, could be unstable,” the firefighter said. “I’ll take you around back and shine a light in the window. You might be able to get a glimpse. The kitchen is smoke damaged but most of the fire got the upstairs. There’s no way you’re going to see that until much later.”

  “Okay, let’s have a look,” she said. Then she shuddered. This was a tragedy; the Templetons treasured their mountain house. When their sons were young, they’d spent a lot of time here. Sometimes Bonnie and the boys came for nearly the whole summer with Gerald flying up from LA as often as he could get away. And now, they loved to visit with their grandchildren.

  It was such a charming stone house with wide porches on the front and back. The inside was beautiful in an unfussy way, plastered walls and wood accents. The kitchen was large with a long breakfast bar, the fireplace in the living room made things so cozy and there was an open staircase to the second floor. There was also a cellar, partially finished, that Bonnie had talked about turning into a wine room, but as far as Kaylee knew, it still just served as storage.

  She followed the fireman up onto the back porch; part of the roof hung down as if damaged, but the man just moved around it and she followed. He pointed the light into the kitchen window and Kaylee peered in. She gasped. Everything was black.

  “Smoke and water damage,” he said. “It wasn’t burned.”

  After a moment he moved over to the dining room window and pressed his flashlight up against the glass. It looked just fine. Not even the furniture was damaged. “I guess the fire didn’t even reach the first floor. But the ceiling is damaged and probably dangerously weak,” he said. “The roof is ruined by fire and the places where we opened it up to vent it. It’ll need a whole new roof, I’m pretty sure.”

  “And a lot of other stuff, too,” she said, surprised by the lump in her throat. She began to have visions of kids sitting around the coffee table playing Monopoly or Scrabble. She envisioned their makeshift tents constructed out of old blankets and quilts and sleeping bags on the floor of the back porch. Toby, the youngest of them all, never made it through the night.

  She suddenly recalled when she was here once with her mom who was depressed, doing a lot of crying, and she tried to remember, was that about the divorce? And then there was a time she and her mom came alone and her mom had been so happy and carefree. That had a lot to do with her mom’s new friend, Art. Art was around for at least a couple of years and he had lightened Meredith’s mood. She didn’t remember her mother being brokenhearted over him when their relationship ended. She had asked her mom what had happened and the answer had been so unsatisfying. It was something like, I guess it had just run its course, but of course we’re still friends.

  “As a renter, I don’t think you’re obligated to call the owners and explain all this,” the fireman said, disrupting her memories.

  She wiped away a tear before it could fall. “They’re very close friends. The owners. Of course I’ll call them.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and began to snap a few pictures. She took a shot of the damaged overhang above the porch from several angles. She asked the fireman to shine the light inside again and she tried to get shots of the kitchen and dining room, though they were dark and murky, taken through a window as they were. “This is going to break their hearts. They love this house.”

  “The fire department will be in touch with them anyway, but you call if you want. Be sure to tell them they’ll be hearing from the chief. And also, tell them there’s not much they can do right now. No need to rush here to see. They should contact the insurance company, though.”

  “I’ll call right away,” she said. “Listen, I’ve been driving for several hours and I need to figure out where I’m going to stay tonight. Is there a restaurant or something nearby?”

  “Jack’s Bar and Grill in town,” he said. “Or you can go back down 36 to Fortuna where you have a bunch of spots to eat and several motels. Jack’s is about ten minutes; Fortuna about forty minutes. You by yourself?”

  The lump in her throat returned. “By myself,” she said and felt that familiar deep and painful longing for her mother. Her best friend. Her soul mate.

  * * *

  There seemed to be a lot of noise involved in the packing up and retreat of two fire trucks. Kaylee was almost grateful that she couldn’t really call Bonnie and Gerald until things quieted down. She found a thick log from an old tree on the ground across the street from her parked car. It was nearly four o’clock and she was fighting tears, not so much over the charred house but more from the memories it brought. The plan had been to separate herself from all the sweet memories of her mother but in coming here she had only unearthed more.

  By the time she clicked on the phone number, she was completely alone. And it was quiet as a church, sitting as she was beneath the huge pines.

  “Hello, Gerald? It’s Kaylee. I’ve arrived in Virgin River and I have terrible news.”

  “I already know, Kaylee. The Cal Fire chief called me just a half hour ago. He said you were there and had seen the house. Honey, I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what happened!”

  “They said they suspected an electric blanket,” she informed him.

  “He told me, but I find that unlikely. We never left the house to come back home without unplugging everything except the refrigerator.”

  “Then I guess we’ll have to wait for their investigation to find out the cause. It’s a mess, Gerald. Not completely destroyed, but a mess. What the fire didn’t damage the water and equipment did. The fireman I talked to said someone would come back to board up the windows and make sure it was secure. I can text you a few pictures, but I wanted to talk to you first.”

  “Please, Kaylee. Fire them at me. Oh, poor choice of words.”

  “I’ll send them as we talk, so you can ask me any questions.” She put the phone on speaker and texted off a group of pictures from her phone.

  “Good God,” he finally said in a hoarse whisper.

  “The fireman said you should phone your insurance company but there’s no reason for you to rush up here.”

  “Aw, honey,” he said. “Just when you think you’re moving forward, something like this—”

  “Your poor house,” she said. “I know how much you love this house.”

  “We loved the idea of you living in it,” he said. “Thank God it was empty when the fire started! It’ll take some time to find out the cause and cost of repairs, but I’ll be sure to let you know when I do find out. Will you just head back home now?”

  “Well...not tonight. I’ve done enough driving for one day. I�
��m going to get a bite to eat and maybe a glass of wine, then probably find a motel. There’s that place to eat in town, I guess. Jack’s?”

  “Yes, Jack’s,” Gerald said. “He’s been there about ten or twelve years now. We know him. Tell him we’re friends; ask him for any tips on good places to stay tonight. He’s a straight shooter. And he knows everyone.”

  “I’ll let you know where I’ll be once I figure it out.”

  * * *

  Kaylee remembered Jack’s, though it looked to be much bigger than the last time she came here. It was a large two-story cabin at the center of town, tucked into a bunch of houses and maybe a park or very large yard. There was no big neon sign announcing Beer or Girls Girls Girls. If it weren’t for the five men gathered on the porch holding beer bottles and an Open sign on the door, it would’ve looked like someone’s house. There were quite a few trucks parked down the street, plus a couple of cars and SUVs. It appeared Jack’s was hopping.

  She parked and walked up to the porch. It was a little intimidating until she recognized a couple of the guys on the porch as firefighters who had doffed their turnouts and now wore jeans and boots. One of them nodded at her and smiled.

  “You doing okay, miss?”

  “Yes, thank you. But I think I need to have a beer or something.”

  “You do that. Let us know if you need help with anything. Even if it wasn’t exactly your house, it was going to be your house tonight before it caught fire.”

  “Thank you, that’s very nice.”

  “We have a fire-victims committee. You know—food, clothing, that sort of thing.”

  “Fortunately, I hadn’t moved in yet, so I didn’t lose anything.”

  “It can still be unsettling.”

  She just smiled at him, thinking that was so sensitive.

  One of them held the door for her and she stepped inside. And looked around.

  It was almost a town in a room. A couple of elderly women sat at a table by the hearth. An entire family with five small children occupied a long table. A half-dozen men leaned against the bar at one end. Two middle-aged couples occupied a table, laughing and talking over their drinks. A table for four held women who were knitting while they nursed beers and wine. A woman was hustling from the back with a full tray of food and there were a couple of men behind the bar—one very handsome man in his late forties or early fifties with just a smattering of silver threaded into his brown hair and another man with coal-black hair, also sporting just a hint of gray.

  She went to the end of the bar and sat on a stool. The handsome brown-haired guy was before her at once, wiping off the bar and slapping down a napkin.

  “Evening,” he said. “What can I get you?”

  “Any chance you have a nice, cold chardonnay and some peanuts?”

  “I can do that,” he said.

  “And is there a guy named Jack around?”

  He turned back abruptly. “That would be me.”

  “Ah. Well, I was headed for the Templetons’ house when everything fell apart. The fire department had just put out the fire as I was arriving. So now here I am, homeless for the moment. I spoke to Gerald Templeton and he asked me to tell you hello. And he said you might have some good ideas about where I should spend the night. A good motel or hotel not too far away?”

  “The fire!” Jack said. “I heard about that. Damn it, that’s a nice house. The Templetons are great people.”

  “They’re very old friends,” she said. “I’ve known them since I was about six.”

  “Let me get your wine, then we can talk.” He busied himself behind the bar for just a moment and before returning to her with the wine, he spoke over his shoulder. “Mike, back me up, will you?”

  “Absolutely,” Mike said.

  He put down the wine and a bowl of nuts appeared. He reached under the counter and pulled out a second bowl holding pretzels. They shook hands, introducing themselves. “So, were the Templetons coming up for a while?” Jack asked.

  “They weren’t planning to. I don’t know if their plans will change, given the damage to their house. I was renting it from them. I needed somewhere quiet with a change of scenery so it was to be mine for six months, though it was possible someone from the family might come for a weekend visit.”

  “And now you’re stuck here with no house?”

  “That about sums it up. I rented out my house in Newport, so just going back home is not an option; my renters couldn’t wait to get in there. Fortunately, I have friends in the LA area, but they don’t exactly have quiet lives...”

  “Couldn’t you explain to your renters...?”

  “I suppose, but really, I made a commitment and they seem to be nice people who were counting on living near their grandchildren for a few months. And I’m just one person. I could be tucked away in a guest room somewhere. I’ll have to think about where. Meanwhile...”

  “Meanwhile, you should let me treat you to dinner. Salmon, rice, asparagus, corn on the cob. It’s delicious.”

  “Sounds great.”

  “I can give you a place to stay, too. It would be temporary, I’m afraid. We have a guesthouse out back, but my sister is coming for a visit at the end of next week, so the place is booked.”

  “That’s very nice of you. You don’t even know me. I’m capable of staying the night in Fortuna or any place you recommend.”

  “I understand if you’d rather not stay with strangers,” he said. “But there’s no need for you to drive over to the coast, especially since your plans are up in the air. I’ll give my wife a call. Her name is Mel and she’s very flexible.”

  “Is it typical for you to offer housing to someone who wanders into your bar?” she asked.

  He had a surprised look on his face. “I was going to say no, but the truth is that anytime there’s a situation that leaves someone without a bed and bath, I’ve been known to offer. We also have a cabin not far from here. That stays pretty busy, too. Especially in good weather.”

  “I hate to impose.”

  “Think about it while I check on the customers. After you’ve had a little of that wine, I’ll get you some dinner. By the time you’re done, you’ll know what you want to do. The welcome mat is out. You’re a friend of friends. I’ve known Gerald and Bonnie since I got to town over ten years ago. I like them. I think Gerald helped me with the roof on this place, back when it was just a small cabin. It’s doubled in size since—we added on.”

  “Thanks, Jack.”

  Before and during her meal, a few bar patrons stopped by to ask her if she was all right, if there was anything she needed, because by now half the town had heard about her and the fire. When she was done with her meal, feeling full and relaxed, Jack brought her a cup of coffee, though she hadn’t asked for it.

  “You might want to go out to my place and check out that casita. Give yourself a couple of days and look around. There might be other rentals around here and maybe all your plans won’t be ruined after all. Sometimes things just work out. Here’s the directions. It’s not far and Mel is waiting for you.”

  “You are unbelievably nice,” she said.

  “Doesn’t cost anything to be nice, right Kaylee?”

  2

  IT DIDN’T TAKE much convincing to have Kaylee driving up the road toward the Sheridan house. It was at a beautiful location. The drive plateaued near the top where two beautiful ranch-style houses sat on big lots with twin porches that both faced west, looking over the valley for miles and miles. Kaylee spotted pastoral fields of crops, a large vineyard, scattered houses and grazing livestock.

  The drive made a Y, veering off to the left to wind around the house to the back or to the right, ending in the front of the house. She could see a portion of the guesthouse in the back, just beyond a play area for kids with swings, a slide, a basketball hoop and a putting green. On the porch at the front of
the house, a woman sat braiding a little girl’s hair. That would be Jack’s wife. And daughter?

  Kaylee didn’t even have to think about it. She didn’t drive around to the casita but up to the front, parking and getting out.

  “Mrs. Sheridan?” she asked.

  “I’m Mel,” she said. “And you must be Kaylee.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Come up here and sit with me. All right, Emma. Go take your bath and I’ll be in shortly. Come, Kaylee. The sky is wonderful tonight—a million stars. That moon is like a lamp, lighting up the whole valley. It’s almost my favorite time of day. Jack tells me you’ve had a stressful day.”

  There was just something about Mel from the second Kaylee met her. She was like a warm blanket. Welcoming and nurturing and completely accessible.

  “It was a shocker, that’s for sure,” Kaylee said.

  “He said you were going to be renting the Templeton house, but he didn’t tell me why you came to Virgin River,” Mel said. “Have you been here before?”

  “Yes, a few times. The first time I was just a child and came with my mother. But the most recent was about ten years ago. I think the bar was a new addition then and I remember being glad to see it. Up till then I can’t remember there being any place to eat. The Templetons are very old friends and they offered me the house for a getaway.”

  “Ah,” Mel said. “A very polite person would just let that go, but I’m cursed with rabid curiosity. Tell me it’s none of my business if it’s too personal, but what are you getting away from?”

  “It’s kind of a long story,” she said.

  “I’m not at all tired,” Mel said, smiling. “I certainly understand if you are—”

  “Well, I think it boils down to running away from grief. I’m a writer. Fiction. Suspense, to be more specific. I’ve had some modest success and I have a contract. In fact, I have one book left on my contract, but I’ve had the worst time writing. I just can’t focus. It was almost exactly a year ago that my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer. Everyone was so optimistic, including the doctors. And yet, my mom got sicker and sicker and she passed away in December last year. I was living in her house. Of course, I stayed with her when she got sick and later when Hospice came. And then after she died and I was alone in her house, I was lucky if I managed a sentence a day. I really couldn’t think of anything but my mom. I needed to change my scenery, so I decided to look around for some place to go for six months, if only to finish this last book on the contract. Then,” she said with a shrug, “then I don’t know what happens. Maybe I look around for a teaching job. I taught for a while after college, writing at night and on weekends and vacations. But I might be done writing.”