Page 25 of Fire and Icing

Patrick opens the apartment door and we look around. Nothing seems to be amiss.

We do a final pass, and then I head downstairs to reset the alarm panel while Patrick relays the details to Cody so he can call dispatch to report a false alarm.

Then we give the assisted living staff the all clear to start sending everyone back into the building.

We’re on the porch as residents pass by to reenter.

“Well, well. So this is the new boy on the crew,” one older woman with pure white hair and a walker says. Her smile is bright and nearly childlike.

Another woman looks at Patrick and says, “We’ve been missing you boys. You don’t come by very often these days.”

Patrick smiles back at her. “A simple invite will usually suffice.”

“I didn’t pull the alarm,” she defends with a soft smile.

“We know, Ruth.”

A gentleman who is dressed in suit pants, an oxford, loafers and a tie comes past us. “Well done, young men. Well done.”

Residents and nurses file back in slowly while Patrick and I stand to the side responding to their comments, many of them noting that I should have come by to introduce myself and this wouldn’t have had to happen.

One of the last women up the steps introduces herself as Mrs. Wilma.

She looks straight at Patrick and says, “I had a hankerin’ for s’mores. So I thought I’d roast one on the stove. You know how it goes with those marshmallows. One minute they’re brown and golden, the next, they’re up in flames. I sure didn’t mean to drag you boys out here in a fuss.” She turns toward me. “Though, I’m glad to finally meet you, Dustin.”

“Nice to meet you too,” I say.

“S’mores on the stove isn’t advisable, Mrs. Wilma,” Patrick says in a serious, but respectful, tone.

“I know it. I wasn’t born yesterday, as you can see.”

“So, we won’t have to worry about any more indoor campfire situations?” He smiles at her.

She raises her eyebrows at him. “Patrick, I’ve known you since you were in diapers.”

If he didn’t still have his SCBA mask on, I’d be able to tell for sure, but even through the gear, I’m pretty sure Patrick is blushing.

“Yes, ma’am. You have.” He doesn’t give her any more pointers.

“I was just about to win at BINGO too,” another woman says from inside the foyer.

“Oh, hush,” Mrs. Wilma shouts in to her. “You wanted to see him in person as much as the next person.”

She points at my helmet and mask. “Take off that hood so we can take a proper look at you now.”

I look at Patrick. He nods. We’ve got the all clear. There’s no fire here.

I remove my SCBA and helmet and smile at Mrs. Wilma.

“Yes sir, just as she said.”

“Who said?” I ask.

“Betty Faye. She said you were built like a house and cute as a button.”

“Betty Faye?”

“You’d know her as Mrs. Holt. Your landlady. She plays cribbage with a few of us twice a week. Sometimes we switch it up for Canasta. Anyhoo, she said you were a looker.”

---