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what survived to be damaged or stolen. We don’t have a lot of that sort of thing around here but...” He shrugged. “The damage is considerable.”
“I’ll say,” she replied.
“So much for your vacation,” the first man offered.
“I wasn’t here for a vacation,” Kaylee said. “I was here to work. I rented it for six months of quiet so I could finish a project. Hey, can I look around in there? So I can tell Gerald what it looks like?”
“You can’t go in there. It’s hot, steaming, could be unstable,” the firefighter said. “I’ll take you around back and shine a light in the window. You might be able to get a glimpse. The kitchen is smoke damaged but most of the fire got the upstairs. There’s no way you’re going to see that until much later.”
“Okay, let’s have a look,” she said. Then she shuddered. This was a tragedy; the Templetons treasured their mountain house. When their sons were young, they’d spent a lot of time here. Sometimes Bonnie and the boys came for nearly the whole summer with Gerald flying up from LA as often as he could get away. And now, they loved to visit with their grandchildren.
It was such a charming stone house with wide porches on the front and back. The inside was beautiful in an unfussy way, plastered walls and wood accents. The kitchen was large with a long breakfast bar, the fireplace in the living room made things so cozy and there was an open staircase to the second floor. There was also a cellar, partially finished, that Bonnie had talked about turning into a wine room, but as far as Kaylee knew, it still just served as storage.
She followed the fireman up onto the back porch; part of the roof hung down as if damaged, but the man just moved around it and she followed. He pointed the light into the kitchen window and Kaylee peered in. She gasped. Everything was black.
“Smoke and water damage,” he said. “It wasn’t burned.”
After a moment he moved over to the dining room window and pressed his flashlight up against the glass. It looked just fine. Not even the furniture was damaged. “I guess the fire didn’t even reach the first floor. But the ceiling is damaged and probably dangerously weak,” he said. “The roof is ruined by fire and the places where we opened it up to vent it. It’ll need a whole new roof, I’m pretty sure.”
“And a lot of other stuff, too,” she said, surprised by the lump in her throat. She began to have visions of kids sitting around the coffee table playing Monopoly or Scrabble. She envisioned their makeshift tents constructed out of old blankets and quilts and sleeping bags on the floor of the back porch. Toby, the youngest of them all, never made it through the night.
She suddenly recalled when she was here once with her mom who was depressed, doing a lot of crying, and she tried to remember, was that about the divorce? And then there was a time she and her mom came alone and her mom had been so happy and carefree. That had a lot to do with her mom’s new friend, Art. Art was around for at least a couple of years and he had lightened Meredith’s mood. She didn’t remember her mother being brokenhearted over him when their relationship ended. She had asked her mom what had happened and the answer had been so unsatisfying. It was something like, I guess it had just run its course, but of course we’re still friends.
“As a renter, I don’t think you’re obligated to call the owners and explain all this,” the fireman said, disrupting her memories.
She wiped away a tear before it could fall. “They’re very close friends. The owners. Of course I’ll call them.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and began to snap a few pictures. She took a shot of the damaged overhang above the porch from several angles. She asked the fireman to shine the light inside again and she tried to get shots of the kitchen and dining room, though they were dark and murky, taken through a window as they were. “This is going to break their hearts. They love this house.”
“The fire department will be in touch with them anyway, but you call if you want. Be sure to tell them they’ll be hearing from the chief. And also, tell them there’s not much they can do right now. No need to rush here to see. They should contact the insurance company, though.”
“I’ll call right away,” she said. “Listen, I’ve been driving for several hours and I need to figure out where I’m going to stay tonight. Is there a restaurant or something nearby?”
“Jack’s Bar and Grill in town,” he said. “Or you can go back down 36 to Fortuna where you have a bunch of spots to eat and several motels. Jack’s is about ten minutes; Fortuna about forty minutes. You by yourself?”
The lump in her throat returned. “By myself,” she said and felt that familiar deep and painful longing for her mother. Her best friend. Her soul mate.
There seemed to be a lot of noise involved in the packing up and retreat of two fire trucks. Kaylee was almost grateful that she couldn’t really call Bonnie and Gerald until things quieted down. She found a thick log from an old tree on the ground across the street from her parked car. It was nearly four o’clock and she was fighting tears, not so much over the charred house but more from the memories it brought. The plan had been to separate herself from all the sweet memories of her mother but in coming here she had only unearthed more.
By the time she clicked on the phone number, she was completely alone. And it was quiet as a church, sitting as she was beneath the huge pines.
“Hello, Gerald? It’s Kaylee. I’ve arrived in Virgin