The King Next Door

Nicole was grateful. She needed a minute. Or two. Or maybe thirty. She sighed as she let her gaze slide from her son to the mess that was her house. Fire hoses were stretched across the lawn, now muddy from too much water and too many feet. Neighbors were gathered around watching the excitement—even Mr. Hannity, who had to be a hundred and ten, had pried himself off his front porch to get a better view. And Griffin was talking to one of the firemen like they were old friends.

Standing alone at the end of her driveway, Nicole listened halfheartedly to the conversations and noise around her. There was a buzzing in her ears that she thought might be the personification of the panic beginning to chew at her insides.

Her knees were still a little shaky and her stomach did an occasional slow roll. Probably leftover adrenaline still pumping through her system. Griffin had moved so fast, snatching Connor from her, then grabbing hold of her arm to pull her out of the kitchen. Thank God she kept her cell phone in her pocket. She’d used it to call the fire department the moment they were clear of the house.

Her house.

She hadn’t been back inside yet. Didn’t even know if she wanted to go look at the disaster that was now her kitchen. Nicole could only imagine what she’d find, and her imagination was pretty darn good. And while those dismal thoughts were spinning through her mind, more piled on for the trip.

Insurance.

Of course the house was insured, but there was a huge deductible—to make the payments easier to live with. And now, thinking of trying to meet that deductible was giving Nicole cold chills in spite of the sun beating down on her shoulders.

How was she going to pay for this?

How could she not?

“Jim says it’s not too bad, considering.”

“Huh? What?” Nicole looked up at Griffin, surprised to find him standing right in front of her. Her mind really was tangled up in knots of misery if she hadn’t noticed his approach.

He tipped his head to one side and studied her. “Another fugue state? Or shock? Maybe you should sit down.”

“I don’t want to sit down,” she said. In fact, what she wanted to do was throw herself onto the grass and kick and scream for a while. But since that wasn’t going to happen, she asked, “I want to find out what shape my house is in and see if it’s safe.”

“Jim says it is.”

“The fireman you were talking to?”

“Yeah.” Griffin shrugged. “Don’t get your feminist temper rolling. I didn’t head him off to get information. I went to school with him, can you believe that coincidence? Jim Murphy. He’s a fire captain now. Married, got a million kids …”

“All very nice for Jim,” Nicole said tightly. “What did he say about my kitchen?”

“Oh.” The smile dropped from his face. “He’ll be over to talk to you in a minute. He’s just checking the place out again before they wrap things up and leave.”

“So the fire’s out.”

“Absolutely,” he assured her, and reached out to lay one hand on her shoulder briefly. “Electrical, but you knew that.”

Yes. She’d probably be hearing that series of pops in her dreams for weeks.

“Apparently your wiring’s shot,” Griffin told her.

“It was working fine until today,” she argued, even though she knew he was right. The wiring was old; the pipes were antiques. But there just never seemed to be enough money to fix everything. She’d made plans, of course. Big plans, for a remodel of the kitchen, for adding a huge bath onto the master bedroom. Maybe a deck off the kitchen … but they were just plans. Pie in the sky, as her grandmother used to say.

“Yeah, and I feel really bad about that,” Griffin said, bringing her back to the conversation. “If I hadn’t tugged on the light fixture …”

A part of her wanted to agree. That angry, desperate voice inside her wanted to shout, I told you I didn’t need any help! But sadly, fury wasn’t going to change anything. She shook her head and waved one hand, dismissing his guilt. “Things happen. Nothing to do about it now, anyway.”

In fact, she was lucky Griffin hadn’t fallen off the ladder and cracked his skull, too. Then she’d be dealing not only with fire damage but doctor bills, as well.

“Besides,” she said, turning her gaze to look at Connor, grinning at her from under the huge helmet he was still wearing, “we’re all safe. That’s what counts.”

“Good attitude,” Griffin said, and turned when Jim Murphy walked up to join them.

“Ms. Baxter,” he said and shook her hand. “The house is safe for you to enter again, but I wouldn’t advise staying there until you’ve had all of the wiring checked by an electrician.”

“Right,” she mumbled. “But the fire’s out? It’s not going to spring back into life?”

He smiled and shook his head. “No, it won’t. The power’s been shut off to the kitchen circuits. But because of the age of the house, that circuit also runs through half of the living room, so there’s no power in there, either. Just to be safe, I’d have an electrician and a contractor check everything out before you turn the power back on.”

“Of course.” Professionals. Electricians. Contractors. Then there would be plasterers, painters … visions of dollar bills flying out an open window popped into Nicole’s mind and she again fought the urge to kick and scream. Pushing the worry to the back of her mind, she forced a smile and said, “Thank you. I appreciate you getting here so quickly.”

“Glad we could help,” the man said and looked over his shoulder at the house. “It’s built well. These old houses have good bones. I know it seems like a lot now, but,” he added, turning back to smile at her, “it could have been a lot worse. As it is, once the main problem is fixed, you’ll be good. There’s no structural damage.”

Small favors, Nicole thought.

“Thanks, Jim,” Griffin said, shaking the other man’s hand. “Good to see you. Say hi to Kathy for me, okay?”

“I’ll do it.” He walked toward the fire truck, and Griffin joined him. “Maybe we could do dinner some night, huh?”

Firemen were still moving around her lawn, rolling up hoses, talking, laughing together. The crowd of neighbors was breaking up, with only the nosiest lingering. Jim and Griffin were still catching up and Connor was now “steering” the big fire truck with a wild grin on his face.

Nicole had zoned out. Let the two old buddies make plans for beers and burgers. Let her son revel in little-boy daydreams. Right now, she was more concerned with what she was going to do next. The sad truth was, she had no clue.

“You okay?”

She glanced up, surprised to find that Griffin had joined her again. “Not so much.”

“Yeah, I can understand that,” he said, “but you’ve got insurance, right?”

“Of course I have insurance,” she snapped, then bit her lip. It wasn’t his fault she was in a mess. Well, she supposed technically it was his fault since he’d ripped the light fixture out of the ceiling while he was changing a bulb she hadn’t asked him to change. But it wasn’t as if he’d set out to burn down her kitchen.

“Then don’t wind yourself up so tight,” he advised. “You’re safe. Connor’s safe. The house can be fixed.”

“I know,” she said firmly, trying to convince herself more than him. It was true, after all. She’d find a way to get it done. She could maybe take a loan out on the house, though she really hated to do that. It was paid for and not having a mortgage payment every month was a blessing she never took for granted. Still, it wasn’t as if she had a lot of options. She also didn’t want to discuss any of this with Griffin.

“You’re right. We’re all safe. The rest will get handled. Now—” she looked over at the fire truck and her happy son “—I think I’ll go collect Connor before he stows away on the truck and I never see him again.”

“Okay, then, you want to go in and take a look?”

“Not really,” she admitted.

“It’ll be okay,” Griffin said.

She looked up at him. “Have you ever noticed that people say that whenever things are absolutely not okay?”

“Good point. But not looking won’t change anything.”