Page 12 of Flare
But at least she had a plan now. And somewhere to go.
Chapter 3
A Trip Down Memory Lane
Bearpaw Ridge, Idaho
Thursday, May 7
Edward“Ward” Swanson stepped back and admired the gleam of the newly refinished oak staircase in the old Victorian house.
The warm chestnut stain he’d chosen matched the house’s original wainscoting and doorframes perfectly, and the satin polyurethane topcoat had brought out the wood’s character without making it look too shiny or new.
Six months ago, he’d answered an alert on his first responder app to find smoke pouring from the windows, choking the winter air with the stench of smoke.
Old knob-and-tube wiring had sparked in the attic, setting fire to one of Bearpaw Ridge’s oldest houses. It had taken him and the other Bearpaw Ridge volunteer firefighters nearly an hour to knock down the flames engulfing the attic.
Luckily, no one had been hurt or killed in the fire. The Petersons had moved out a couple of weeks earlier and put their house up for sale.
Once the fire marshal’s investigation was complete, and the insurance claims settled, Swanson Construction, owned by Dad’s cousin Tyler, had won a contract for repairs and restoration.
Though the fire hadn’t reached the first floor, smoke and soot had infiltrated the rest of the house through every crack. And the fire hoses used to save the house had flooded and damaged the unburned rooms.
Ward had been the first firefighter on the scene that night. Now, he was the last worker out of the newly restored home. It felt good. Like he’d come full circle.
He pulled a soft rag from his back pocket and ran it over the gleaming handrail and carved newel post one last time.
Then, Ward texted a photo of the completed staircase to Tyler before he closed the front door behind him.
It was a beautiful spring afternoon, the air mild and scented with smoking meat from the Wildcat Springs Texas BBQ restaurant just a couple of blocks away.
Tossing his tool belt onto the passenger seat of his pickup, Ward looked back at the house with satisfaction curling in his chest.
Time to celebrate with a pastry and one of those fancy coffee drinks at Cinnamon + Sugar.
Ward had grown up eating treats from Annabeth Swanson’s bakery-café on Main Street. Now that Uncle Dane and Aunt Annabeth were mostly retired, his favorite cousin Maggie was running the place.
Sure enough, she was behind the counter when he walked in.
The interior of Cinnamon + Sugar was decorated in a retro style, with black-and-white floor tiles, marble-topped tables, and framed posters of vintage advertisements for chocolate, baking powder, and other baking-related items. A long row of glass bakery cases, usually filled with all kinds of cookies, pastries, and fancy sandwiches, stretched on either side of a marble counter that held the cash register and a coffee station.
Alerted by the tinkling bell fixed over the door, Maggie looked up from fiddling with the large, chrome-plated Italian espresso machine.
“Hey, Eddie! You’re off work early today,” she greeted him with a wide grin.
His family members were the only ones who still called him“Eddie.”
Everyone else had switched to calling him Ward after he joined the BPRFD, to avoid confusion with the two other Eddies already in the department.“I finished up at the Peterson house, Mags. Do you have any of those almond croissants left?”
She pointed theatrically at the mostly empty display case.“You’re in luck, cuz. You get the last one.”
“Great,” Ward said.“And I’ll take one of those chocolate-dipped coconut things, too. I earned it.”
His stomach growled.
Maggie’s dark brows rose, and her hazel eyes sparkled with mischief.“Someone’sbear sounds hungry. How about a sandwich? There’s one ham, Fontina, and kale pesto left.”
Kale pesto?Despite his doubts, Ward shrugged.“Sure, why not?”
