“The TCC is awash with both professional and amateur architects,” she noted. “The building project is bringing everyone with a drafting table out of the woodwork.”
“Anyone have a style you particularly like?”
“A couple, for sure.” Jenny nodded. There were some incredibly creative people living in Royal.
“There you go. Think about it. Maybe do something completely different, fun, exciting.”
“You suppose there’s something wrong with us?” Jenny took a step back as the flames grew hotter on her face.
“Not a thing,” said Emily.
“We’re standing here planning my new house while the old one burns.”
“It means we’re practical,” Emily stated with conviction. “Practical and realistic. Those are both very admirable traits.”
Jenny watched while a fireman doused the oak tree overhanging her living room roof. The roof was blackened, and sagging at an unnatural angle. She couldn’t help picturing the armchair that sat in front of the bay window. She’d bought it last year on sale over in Westbury County. There was a tear on the back now, and she’d never been really crazy about the plaid pattern.
Truth be told, she’d also been thinking about replacing her television set. Though, in this day and age, maybe a larger computer monitor made more sense.
“You must be getting cold.” Mitch’s voice startled her, and she realized he’d moved up next to her in the darkening night. The lights seemed to flash brighter now, the flames more vivid, though she knew the fire was coming under control.
“I’m hot,” she responded, wiping her damp hands across her fire-warmed cheeks.
“The fire will be out soon. And you’re still soaking wet.”
“So is everybody else.” She couldn’t help stealing a glance at Mitch’s bare, glistening chest. She was still wearing his T-shirt, and he looked magnificent, somehow all-powerful standing amidst the chaos.
“I talked to the chief,” he continued. “They think the lightning fried your entire electrical system and started a bunch of smaller fires inside the walls. There’s really nothing more you can do here tonight.” His gaze shifted to Emily. “Is Jenny going to stay with you?”
“Not unless she wants to swell up like a blowfish.”
Mitch’s brows went up in an unspoken question.
“My cats,” said Emily.
Jenny’s nose twitched and her sinuses tingled just thinking about Powder and Puff, Emily’s long-haired Persians. She was good for a couple of hours at Emily’s. But she’d never be able to sleep overnight. “I guess it’ll have to be a hotel.”
The Family Inn by the highway had kitchenettes, and their rates were reasonable. She struggled not to feel overwhelmed by the logistics of the next few days. There’d be necessities to purchase, insurance forms to fill out, and soon, very soon, she was sure the magnitude of her loss would hit her.
“Why don’t we all head for my place for now,” Mitch suggested, his broad hand coming down on Jenny’s shoulder. The gesture felt far too comforting, so she quickly shrugged it off. She couldn’t let herself depend on Mitch.
“We’ll get everybody dried off,” he continued, clearing his throat and letting his hand drop to his side. “We can have something to eat and figure out your next steps.”
“Good idea,” Emily quickly agreed.
Jenny followed up on Emily’s agreement with a nod. The chill of the night air was setting in as the bright flames turned to billowing smoke, and the mist from the fire hoses mixed with the steady rain coming down on them.
Jenny couldn’t stay here and stare much longer. She had to get started on the logistics of the rest of her life.
Since Jenny’s entire wardrobe had gone up in smoke, Mitch had asked Cole to stop at the Quick-Mart and pick her up a pair of sweatpants and a warm shirt that would fit. He’d offered her his shower, then put a barbecued cheeseburger directly into her hands, making sure she had a comfortable place to sit and an opportunity to collect her thoughts.
Now, with the barbecue finished and cleaned up, and a friendly poker game underway in his dining room, he watched Jenny wander out onto his deck alone. She stopped at the rail to gaze across the lights of the golf course. The rain had stopped about an hour ago, and the moon was peeking out from behind the dissipating storm clouds.
Mitch waved off an invitation to join in the game and followed her outside.
Her feet were bare on the damp deck, since Cole hadn’t thought to buy socks or shoes, and hers were still in a heap in Mitch’s laundry room. Mitch briefly glanced to where the fleece pants covered her rear end and wondered if Cole had thought to buy underwear. But he quickly squelched that picture, admonishing his wandering imagination.
If there was a scrap of a gentleman inside him, she needed it right now. He made himself promise to provide her with support, not lust.
“Hey,” he offered softly, padding across the cool, smooth deck, his own feet also bare after he’d changed from wet clothes to a pair of faded jeans and a well-worn Tigers T-shirt.
She turned her head to profile, mustering up a weak smile. The hoots and good-natured ribbing of the poker game faded behind him.
“You okay?” His voice was gentle as he came to a halt next to her at the rail.
She shrugged her slim shoulders, turning her attention back to the view. For some reason, she looked particularly delicate beneath the oversized navy hooded shirt. “I’m fine.”
He didn’t believe that for a minute. “Yeah, right.”
“I’m really fine.”
“You’ve just lost everything you own.” Mitch couldn’t imagine every treasure and memento of his entire life, his childhood trophies, the faded football jerseys, certificates, photographs, letters, gifts from his parents’ travels around the world, going up in flames before his eyes.
She turned to look at him, tone going a bit brittle. “Thank you so much for pointing that out.”
“Jenny.”
“No, really. I’d almost forgotten.”
He set his jaw. He could take this. She deserved to be upset. And if she needed to rail, it might as well be at him.
But she fell silent.
“Go ahead,” he invited.
“What?”
“Get it out. Yell at me.”
Her tone had returned to normal. “How would that help?”
Now, he was the one feeling frustrated. “Quit being so damn logical and analytical. You do what you have to do.”
She glanced down at the baggy clothes. “What I have to do is go shopping. I may be a little late for work tomorrow, boss.”
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?”
“I meant emotionally. You deserve to be angry, to rail at the universe. Let it out, Jenny.”
Nobody, not even logical, practical, two-feet-firmly-planted-on-the-ground Jenny could go through a disaster like this and not feel distraught.
“There’s nothing to let out,” she told him.
“Yes, there is.”
But instead of answering, she got a faraway look in her green eyes. Moments ticked by. But, finally, she spoke. “I know you must find it odd.”
Since he hadn’t a clue what she was talking about, he waited for her to elaborate.
“Emily said I should rebuild.” Jenny leaned back, holding herself steady with a firm grip around the top rail.
