Page 6 of Fire and Icing (The Firemen of Waterford TN #1)

Dustin

I’ve learned that home is not a place, it’s a feeling.

~ Cecelia Ahern

I take a photo of the note and walk back to where Cody is grabbing two paper bags from the woman behind the counter and thanking her.

“Have a good day, June.”

“You too, Cody,” the woman smiles. “Welcome to Waterford, Dustin,” she adds.

“Thank you.” I smile warmly.

June might be the first person to sincerely welcome me here. Rumor has it that this town is warm and friendly. I’ve seen it. I’m just not the recipient of much of that congeniality yet, with the exception of the captain’s family.

“Mrs. Holt,” I say to Cody as we hop up into the firetruck.

“Yeah, she’s great.”

“I don’t know. I kinda want a place to myself.”

I tell him what she’s asking for monthly rent.

“I hear you on the desire to be alone. We’re on top of one another twenty-four hours straight at the station.

A little place to yourself is refreshing between shifts.

Then again, you can’t beat the price. And you’re gone every other day.

It might be a good in-the-meantime option. You’ll love her. Trust me.”

My phone rings. I look down. “It’s my mom,” I tell Cody.

“Always answer your mom, man.”

I smile and click the green icon. “Hey, Mom.”

“Dustin! I didn’t expect you to answer. Aren’t you at work?”

“I am, but we’re driving back to the station.”

“Oh. You’re with someone?”

“Yeah. Cody.”

“Hiiiii, Cody!” Mom yells.

“He can hear you, Mom.”

“Well, you’re so far away, one never knows.”

Cody smiles and stifles a laugh.

“Dustin told me all about you, Cody,” Mom says in a quieter, but still not quiet voice.

“He did, did he?” Cody looks over at me.

“You boys need to be nice to my son. He’s never lived outside Cali-”

I don’t let her finish. “Okay, Mom. What did you call for?”

“Cody?” she continues, undeterred. “Don’t worry. It’s all Gucci. Gucci in the hood. I raised two boys and a girl. I get the need to tease and initiate or whatever it is you do to break in a new firefighter.”

Cody laughs out loud this time.

Mom keeps going. “It’s all good. All the Ws.”

“The Ws?” Cody asks.

“The wins. You know,” Mom says this as if everyone has the Urban Dictionary app downloaded and open on their lock screen.

I raise my brows and sigh. I’ll fill Cody in later about Mom’s misguided attempt to relive her teen years in her fifties.

“So, Dustin, how'd the apartment search go?” Mom asks.

I tell Mom about the handwritten note on the bulletin board and the few no-go rentals I visited this morning.

“The note said the space I’d rent is cozy and quiet.”

“Huh. Well, cozy and quiet aren’t your usual vibe. But maybe having someone around isn’t such a bad idea,” Mom says hopefully.

“That’s what I’m thinking. Besides, I’m kind of out of options.”

“Well, I think you should at least check it out.”

Cody nods his agreement. “You’d like Mrs. Holt, Mrs. Reed,” he tells my mom.

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you to say. I’ve long since given up trying to weigh in on my sons’ decisions. I appreciate you considering my opinion, Cody.”

Since when did she give up trying to weigh in? I chuckle.

We pull up to the station, so I tell my mom I have to go.

“Why don’t you give that woman a call, hunny?”

“Yeah. I might as well. Thanks, Mom. Love you.”

“Love you, too, sweet boy.”

I hang up and glance over at Cody.

He’s grinning at me. “Go ahead, sweet boy, call Mrs. Holt. I’ll take the sandwiches into the kitchen.”

I ignore the jab and dial the number from the photo I took. Cody walks into the station while I stay seated in the officer’s seat, my phone in hand.

“Hello?” A warm, elderly voice answers.

“Hello. Mrs. Holt?”

“Yes, this is Mrs. Holt.”

“Hi, ma’am. I’m Dustin. I’m the new fireman in town.”

“Oh, I know who you are,” she says, surprising me. “I’ve been waiting for you to call.”

“You have?”

“Well, you’re lookin’ for a place to stay, aren’t ya?”

“I am.”

“I’ve been figuring you’d need a place. That’s why I put my basement apartment up on the deli board.”

“For me?”

“Mm hmm.”

She acts as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

“I heard from Susan when we were volunteering at the food pantry that you had come in and you were still staying with David and Lyndsay. I figured it was only a matter of time before that got old for all of you. Fish and houseguests—both start to stink after four days. You know?”

“I’m on day seven,” I confess.

“Mmm, mmm, mmm,” she says. “No. That just won’t do. So, when are you planning on moving in?”

“I haven’t even seen your place,” I remind her.

“Details. Them’s just details. You’ll want to see it, of course. But I just know you’ll love it more than a hound dog loves nappin’ on a front porch in the sun.”

“I can come by after my shift. That’s at like 7:30 tomorrow morning. Is that too early?”

“Early? Heavens, no. I’m up with the birds. I’ll have a cup of coffee and something to eat here for you.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“Oh, nonsense. You’re a young man and you fight fires. I know you need your food. Just let me feed you.”

“If you insist,” I say, smiling at her spunk.

In the strangest way, she reminds me of my mom, only at least twenty years older and with a little twang in place of Mom’s slang.

“I insist,” Mrs. Holt says. “I’ll see you in the mornin’, Dustin. You’re going to love your room.”

My room . Why do I already believe her?

I walk into the station. Cody’s already set our sandwiches, pickles and chips on plates.

That’s one thing about firemen. They’re all about meals.

Any one of us will take it on ourselves to cook or clean.

We have a rotation, but we’re not shy about serving one another and sharing what we have.

Only four days working here and I can already attest to that.

With the exception of donuts. I chuckle to myself. We don’t like to share our donuts.

“How’d it go?” Cody asks.

“She told me I can come by in the morning to see my room. She’s going to cook me breakfast.”

“Man, maybe I ought to move off the ranch and take her up on the room.”

“Nope.” I grab my chair and pull it out. “That room is mine.”

Cody grins.

The next morning, I drive to Mrs. Holt’s home as soon as I leave the fire station. A tiny woman in her late sixties or early seventies greets me at the door with warm, grandmotherly energy.

“Well, Dustin. Aren’t you something? It’s a good thing I’ve got a king-sized bed down there. What do they feed y’all out in California? Redwoods?” Mrs. Holt laughs a hearty laugh, belying her size. “Come in. Come in.”

“Not redwoods, ma’am. I just eat a lot of protein. And I work out two hours a day.”

“I never could see the use in working out. I’m on the move a’plenty just doin’ my laundry and such. No need to lift weights when I’m hauling a mop and broom around. But to each his own.”

I smile, following her through the long entry hallway toward the back of the house. The house smells like cinnamon and apples—making me imagine it’s the kind of place where someone’s always baking something delicious.

There’s a stairway to the right of the foyer and a family room with dark carved wooden doors across from it.

This house has character. Crown molding, a carved railing going up along the staircase, beveled baseboards—all stained to enhance the original wood.

I peek into the family room. A bench seat is nestled within the bay window.

A small TV that looks like it came with the house when it was built sits on a tray table across from an equally outdated recliner.

“That’s where I watch my shows,” Mrs. Holt says. “I do love my shows. General Hospital , The Young and the Restless and The Bold and the Beautiful. I’ve been watchin’ them since they really were bold and beautiful.”

Mrs. Holt walks past a cutout in the hallway with a built-in. On the surface of the cabinet sits a bunch of what I assume are family photos in mismatched frames, some of the pictures yellowed with age.

One particular photo grabs my attention: a little redheaded girl grinning over a rolling pin.

She’s on a stool at the counter, focused on the dough with an intensity that tells me baking is serious business to her.

Another frame holds an image of a teenager at what must have been some sort of a baking contest. She’s covered in flour, holding up a pie in one hand and a blue ribbon in the other. Her smile overtakes her face.

I gesture at the frames. "Your granddaughter?"

Mrs. Holt answers me, her voice dripping with fondness. "Yes. My little sunshine. She’s here in Waterford too—I’ll introduce you one day. She’s as sweet as the treats she bakes— just a dash of allspice in that one. As it should be. She’s single too. Are you single?"

A nervous laugh escapes me. I’m not used to being put on the spot about my love life.

"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.