Page 17 of Fire and Icing

"Uh … yes. I … uh … well. I’m technically single?"

Mrs. Holt smiles a grin that reaches her eyes. Then she pats my shoulder.

“Don’t you worry a bit. A handsome firefighter like you will be easy to match. We’ll see what happens, won’t we?"

"I’m not really looking for a relationship right now,” I inform her. “I need to focus on learning the ropes at the station and settling into my new life.”

“Young people these days.” Mrs. Holt’s lips thin and her eyes search mine. “So independent. Whatever happened to the values that held my generation together? Find a girl, settle down, have babies, live your happy life in a community surrounded by family and friends. That’s all we ever wanted. That and a car that ran … Well, and to learn the secret to our grandmother’s pie crust.”

She sighs. “Not you kids. You want to stay single and start businesses and prove yourselves to the world. I’ve got nothing against ambition. Don’t get me wrong. But a life without someone to come home to? That’s half a life. Not when you could find someone who’d always be in your corner through the highs and lows.”

She scans the photos on the shelf. “And the love of your own child? There’s really no topping that. Well, I guess I’d say grandkids. They top everything. Oh, listen to me ramble. You don’t need my philosophies on life.” She pauses and grins up at me. “But I still think you might need to meet my granddaughter.”

“Right.” I smile down at her. “No pressure."

Mrs. Holt softly chuckles. “Oh, there’s pressure alright. Don’t kid yourself. You’ll love living here. But I’m not going to pretend I’m not what I am. I’m a matchmaker through and through. I think you and my sunshine might just hit it off. Wouldn’t that be something?”

As quickly as we stopped, Mrs. Holt starts up again, walking through a kitchen with laminate patterned flooring and formica countertops the color of an avocado. The wallpaper looks a bit dated, but everything’s clean. There’s a small dinette set in a nook at the back of the kitchen with four metal chairs with vinyl seats tucked neatly around it.

Mrs. Holt walks into a back room that’s part mudroom, part laundry room, and then she opens a door to her right.

Pointing to the door leading out to the back yard, she says, “That there’s your entry. And don’t you worry your head about waking or disturbing me. I can’t always hear as well as I used to. Half the time I won’t even hear you. The other half I won’t mind. There’s parking out there. You can park that pickup of yours off to the left side of the driveway. Garage is mine. Sorry, Charlie. That’s one thing I’ll insist on.”

I can’t help but smile again. “The driveway will be just fine.”

She knows I have a pickup. This woman should work for the CIA.

“Don’t I know it.” She flicks a light on and I follow her down stairs made of sturdy wood slats. “Now, don’t you fret about these steps. They’re made of solid wood, just the way everything was back in the day. You’d have to try really hard to break ’em. They’ll hold anything, even you.”

“I’m not that big,” I tell her.

“You go on and tell yourself that. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” She looks back over her shoulder and winks at me—a full-blown wink.

“Now, down here you’ve got a full bath. My deceased husband had it put in for his poker nights. And fishin’ trips. My gracious! He’d come home smelling something awful. So, out of respect for me, and a strong desire to share our bed, he put in this bathroom. That way he could scrub off and I didn’t have to endure his stench.” She looks around, smiling warmly. “He was a good man.”

“Sounds like it,” I say.

“Well, so. You’d have this here bed area. And here’s where you could have TV if you like it. I don’t care if you use the cable. I pay for it. May as well share it. And whatever else you like, well, you just go on and tell me. Use the kitchen, but clean up after yourself. I can’t abide a man who doesn’t do his own dishes.”

“Me either,” I say. “My mom would fly out here to have a piece of me if she found out I wasn’t pulling my weight.”

“Well, now. That’s as it should be. So, here you are.” She waves her arms around at the space. It’s mostly finished, but there's a part through a door that looks unfinished.

“And, you’d be welcome to come up and visit if you get lonely. I’m a talker. But I can listen too. So, you’ve got someone if you want that.” She looks around again, a soft smile on her face. “It’ll be good to have you here, Dustin. Now come upstairs for some eggs and biscuits."

And just like that, I’m sure I’ve found a place in Waterford.

Chapter 5

Emberleigh

Apologies aren't meant to change the past,

they are meant to change the future.

~ Kevin Hancock

“Enjoy that cake, Mrs. Manning,”I smile at my customer and hand her a paper bag with the boxed cake inside it.

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