Ten minutes later, I wheeled my squeaky cart out of the store, stopped at the Zombie Mobile, and shoved all the groceries inside. Then I spared myself a glance across the street.
Then another one.
Was that smoke billowing out of the back of the Frolicking Moose?
The bright flicker of orange flames was visible through the windows. With a sinking feeling in my chest, I abandoned the Zombie Mobile and dashed through the parking lot and across the slushy road. The smell of burning wood filled the air as I approached, running past an old woman who had stopped on the sidewalk to stare.
“Call 911!” I barked. “Now!”
She fumbled in her pocket, eyes wide. Heat rushed out of the shop as I leapt up the stairs and slipped inside.
“Lizbeth!” I called. “Get out!”
“No!”
She stood behind the counter, a fire extinguisher in her hands. Several white patches already coated the far wall, but the crackling flames had ascended to the ceiling. I grabbed her by the coat and yanked her back. Heat blazed over us.
“It’s too late!”
“It’s not! Grab the hose at the sink. We can still put it out!”
“We can’t. It’s already on the ceiling. It might even be on the next floor.”
She stumbled back with a cry, fighting me at every step. The fire extinguisher still spurted at random as she flailed, attempting to hit any part of the flame.
“It’s not worth your life!”
“This is my life, JJ!”
Thankfully, she was small. I hooked an arm around her and carted her outside without an issue. Choking smoke burned my eyes. I coughed. She gasped, dropping to her knees when I released her into the snow a safe distance away. When she looked back at the burning building, her mouth opened wordlessly. Not far away, the old woman spoke frantically into her phone.
“Fire at the coffee shop,” she stammered. “It’s a bad blaze!”
Flames consumed the back roof, vaulting over the top in a terrifying dance. How could it move so quickly? Then again . . . in a building so old, with planked wood on the outside and a non-metal roof, how could it not?
Lizbeth let out a cry. “My books!”
With a quick hand, I grabbed her shoulder before she could move again. There was no real fight in her. She collapsed back to the ground with an unintelligible whisper.
A few things lay in the snow, and I realized she’d had the presence of mind to gather the money out of the register and a few binders. Probably pitched them outside before attacking with the extinguisher.
For several shocked moments, I waited to hear sirens. Pineville was too small for a full-time fire department. The 911 dispatch would have to page volunteers, who would have to leave their lives, get to the station, and then come here.
It could be too late by then.
It almost was.
The three of us stood there in a silence interrupted only by the crackle of flames and the hum of cars creeping by. All of Pineville’s Main Street seemed to spill outside to watch. A warm body appeared at my side. Mark.
“What happened?” he asked, breathless. “I saw the flames and ran over from the bank.”
I shrugged helplessly. “Don’t know.”
Mark glanced at my hold on Lizbeth, then back to the coffee shop.
“Everyone out?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
What felt like an eternity later, sirens broke the weird quiet. The fire truck approached, lights blazing. I pulled Lizbeth off the ground and kept her propped up by an arm around her shoulders. A hose appeared. Then came the sound of gushing water and organized shouts. Smoke lay acrid in the air.
“Call Maverick,” I said to Mark as I handed him my phone. “His number is in my texts from when Lizbeth messaged him. He needs to be here. If Bethany answers, don’t say anything to her.”
Mark nodded. “Of course.”
He stepped away as I grabbed Lizbeth’s arms and forced her to look at me. Her gaze was surprisingly clear. Emotion-free. She stared at me with wide eyes glazed by shock.
“Everything is going to be all right, Lizbeth. You’re alive. That’s all that matters.”
“Everything is gone,” she whimpered.
“But you aren’t.”
She crashed into me with a little sob.
11 Lizbeth
How did fire move so fast?
This was my fault.
No, they said it was likely old wiring.
What if I’d been asleep?
Hours later, my thoughts whirled in a frenzy. A warm blanket wrapped around my shoulders and jerked me out of the spiral. Ellie stood behind me. Her dog, a gentle but massive Rhodesian Ridgeback named Thor, trailed on her heels.
Ellie sank down on the nearest chair, studying me with a concerned look while Thor settled at her feet. Nursing pads and a breast pump littered the table. I scooted them aside, propped my elbows on the flat surface, and leaned my face into my palms.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked.
“Fine. I promise.”
“Can you stop almost dying, please?”
Her plea wasn’t humorous at all. I looked at her helplessly.
Bethany slipped into the room in a pair of obnoxiously pink slippers. “Shane finally fell asleep.” She yawned. “My arm is numb and both my nipples almost cracked, but that child is quiet, so I’ll take it.”
Tears filled my eyes. “Bethie, do you—”
“No, I don’t hate you.” She sat down next to me. Her gaze softened. “I could never hate you, Lizbeth.”
“But it’s your dad’s shop. I was there. It—”
“Wasn’t your fault.”
She reached across the table and laid a hand on mine. Her touch instantly soothed me. I relaxed beneath the warm weight of the blanket. The world had turned upside down in the space of a breath again, and the realization startled me.
Ellie let out a long, slow sigh and slumped back against the chair. Her gaze darted outside. Devin must be on his way over.
“I can’t say I’m all that surprised,” Bethany murmured with a little shake of
