Page 3 of Anchor Point

The clerk stood in the doorway, smiling at me. She had on a business casual outfit paired with sensible shoes. The tips of her blond shoulder-length hair curled slightly outward, and she wore minimal makeup.

“Hi, Chief. I’m sorry to interrupt. I thought we might go over a few things.” She indicated the notepad she held.

I straightened and motioned to the guest chair.

“Certainly. We can start with your name.” I tried for a polite smile. My face was going to crack from all the pleasantries.

Chuckling, she entered the room and took the seat across from me, leaning forward to offer her hand. “My name is Cathy. It’s a pleasure to meet you. It’s going to be nice having another woman in the department.”

She sounded positively thrilled, but her comment struck me as odd.

“There are no other women in the department?”

Cathy shook her head. “There are some female medics, but they work for the county. We’re it for the fire department.”

A whole department of men only? It was unusual but not unheard of. And I had a sneaking suspicion I’d just uncovered why my interview process had felt so peculiar.

“You seem surprised, Chief.”

“I am. I want to know why and how.”

Cathy shrugged. “There are some in other departments nearby, but in all of my years working here, there’s only been one female firefighter. Of course”—she cocked her head conspiratorially—“she had to work doubly hard to prove herself.”

“Do they actively discriminate?” With the mayor’s attitude, it wouldn’t surprise me. They needed me for their numbers.

“No. I think it’s more that we rarely have turnover, so we don’t have open positions very often. It’s a small department in a small city—when people get hired, they usually stay. So no other women besides you and me.”

This situation added another layer to the trepidation building in me. Suddenly, taking the position felt like a mistake.

I frowned at the thought, then refocused on my clerk.

Cathy was open, friendly, and I had no doubt she was the glue that held this department together. In my experience, there was a line between bosses and subordinates. Being friends usually didn’t work.

But I could be pleasant. Cordial.

I didn’t want to make enemies on my very first day, aside from the mayor. I could use an ally in the department, but years of needing to remain guarded had taken its toll and become my default.

“Anyway”—she shifted under my direct gaze—“I didn’t know your sizes.” She’d slipped into a professional get-shit-done voice that I immediately respected. “However, I’ve coordinated with the uniform shop, and they have the departmental patches ready. If you’ll jot down your sizes, I’ll make a quick call, and they should be ready this evening. I can run by on my way in tomorrow morning and pick them up.”

She checked her notes, ticking off boxes as she changed topics.

“I also ordered you a laptop, and IT should be by any minute with it. I got you all set up with account codes, so you’ll just need to change your password. And then I thought I could give you a rundown of the software we use.”

Another box was ticked off. “Oh, and I ordered you new badges and collar bars.”

And now I felt like a total bitch.

She’d really taken care of me. I hadn’t even thought to ask about my uniform. I softened the ice princess and let genuine appreciation seep into my tone. “Thank you, Cathy. I appreciate all that you’ve done. You’ve certainly set me up to get started on the right foot.”

A smile spread across her face, brightening her features. “It’s my pleasure, Chief. How about I give you a tour of our office area?”

She walked us through the administrative offices, noting a large conference room, a small unisex restroom, and a nice kitchen with a break area.

“How long have you worked here?” I asked as we made it back to my office.

“Ten years, ma’am.” Her words had a weight to them.

“It sounds like those might have been ten hard years.”

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