Page 16 of Playing With Fire

Chapter Three

Hattie kept up a stream of chatter as she ushered them into the large kitchen and family room which seemed to overflow with children and people of all ages.

Ricky could see three babies lined up like hot dogs on a blanket near the window seat. A group of teens huddled over someone’s iPad, and several toddlers conducted a frenzied road race with toy cars up and around the backs of two large and battered sofas. The occupants of the sofa, two women of comfortable bulk and indeterminate age, seemed oblivious.

It was bedlam, thought Ricky. A faint uneasiness trickled down his spine. His chest tightened.

Too many people. A careless accident with the gas stove. A faulty bit of wiring. They would never be able to evacuate the room in time. People simply didn’t understand how deadly the smoke was and how swiftly it travelled...

He glanced around. Exits, clearly marked. Fire extinguisher visible. Smoke alarms. Evacuation plan.

Cool it, bud.

Ricky forced himself to breathe, long, slow breaths that eventually soothed his galloping pulse.

He became aware of delicious food aromas, of Hattie and Silas orchestrating the meal from behind the massive kitchen bench like seasoned musicians. Plastic-wrapped bowls and dishes were crowded together at one end, and Silas was whipping casseroles into the oven while Hattie assembled a tray of condiments and serving spoons,

Ricky’s stomach rumbled. He thought of Fourth of July backyard barbecues and Memorial Day picnics. Of Thanksgiving turkey, stuffing, and fresh donuts.

And what was that wonderful aroma?

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jodi watching him with a wry this-is-how-we-do-things-in-Temple-Mountain smile. Like she thought he might turn up his nose at Mrs. Lee’s turnip pie and old Harry’s famous crumble made from blackberry preserves and those tiny tart apples which appeared every fall. No one minded that there were always a few apple seeds and maybe a couple of blackberry leaves in the mix.

Yup. Now he had it.

Crispy bacon grilled on cheesy baked potatoes, baked beans with molasses, and...fresh garlic, which one of the twins was pulverizing on a board with great enthusiasm. And a whole lot of other aromas which reminded him of his missed breakfast.

“Quite a crowd,” he murmured. “Do you know all these folks? It’s just like a town council meeting—everyone talking at once and plenty of snacks.”

Jodi laughed. “It is a bit overwhelming. Especially if you are used to your own company and your own space like I am.”

Her face was open, relaxed, and Ricky briefly envied her air of quiet belonging. Of being rooted in one place.

Had she never dreamed of escaping, he wanted to ask. Of stepping off the train in a big city where you knew no one and no one knew you, where you could be whoever you wanted?

As though reading his mind, Jodi cocked her head.

“And there’s always someone new to meet. But that’s the thing about the Beechams—open door and open heart. They never turn anyone away. Not that I know of anyway.”

The eyes fixed gravely on his were more green than blue today, courtesy of her emerald top. Minus her hair pins, Jodi had scraped her hair into a relaxed ponytail secured by a rubber band, emphasizing the delicate hollows of her narrow face and the firm set of her mouth.

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