and writing skills.
“Firemen came to our school today!”
Marissa’s eyes darted to the rearview mirror. Her own shock stared back in the reflection. Owen bounced in his seat, his eyes lit with excitement. “They talked about safety and stuff. We should check the batteries in our smoke detectors. Have you checked them?” He bounced again. “Have you?”
Marissa’s hands clenched around the steering wheel and she worked to keep her voice even. “Yes, buddy, I did a few weeks ago.” How could his class have done a fire safety demonstration without a notice? The teacher should have sent something out to the parents—though most parents wouldn’t have the same issues with it that she did. Her knuckles whitened. If her father had arranged for this and didn’t even bother to tell her—
“One of the firemen pulled a quarter from my ear and he let me keep it!” Owen held up a shiny coin and flipped it from one palm to the other. “See? He was so cool! He told me all about firefighting and how I could do it one day, too, if I wanted. Like Grandpa and Daddy.”
Marissa forced a smile in the mirror at Owen as she flipped on the blinker. “That is pretty exciting.” Only halfway listening as he rattled on about fire trucks and all the equipment the firefighters had shown him, Marissa made a sharp left and veered off course toward Oak Street.
She had a stop to make.
“Grandpa!” Owen ran inside Central Station ahead of Marissa into his grandfather’s office.
Fire Chief Lyle Brady twisted in his leather swivel chair, eyes widening with a flicker of surprise. “Well, this is a shock. What brings you two by?”
Marissa leaned against the doorjamb as her dad opened his arms to Owen. Owen hesitated, then edged toward him with a shy grin—which promptly faded upon inspection of his grandfather’s desk. All evidence of shyness erased, Owen tilted his head to one side. “Hey, where’s the candy? You used to have caramel squares on your desk.”
Marissa bit back a snort. There was the son she knew and loved.
“The receptionist has it at her desk now.” Chief patted his ample stomach. “It was too tempting at close range.”
“Can I have a piece?” Owen asked his grandpa, then caught himself and met Marissa’s gaze instead. “I mean, may I have a piece, Mom?”
“Sure, buddy. You go get some candy and let me talk to Grandpa alone for a minute.” She stepped sideways as Owen barreled past to charm the receptionist out of her candy bowl.
“That doesn’t sound good.” Chief crossed his arms over his chest. “But you haven’t been by in months, so I’m not surprised there’s some kind of reason now.”
“The door opens both ways, Dad.” Marissa folded her arms in front of her racing heart, mirroring her father’s image.
“Is this about the fundraiser and the layoffs?” His thick eyebrows furrowed nearly into one. “I told you it’s not good politics for family to be involved in business. This thing could get messy.”
Marissa inhaled, intending to count to ten but only getting to four. “Trust me, you’ve made your stand on that clear. But that’s not why I came.”
“Go on.” He leaned forward.
Marissa bit her lip, fighting the swirl of emotions raging in her stomach. She waited until the boiling cauldron settled. “I can’t believe you arranged for your men to speak to Owen’s class at school and didn’t at least warn me.”
“Warn you? Is that all?” Her father laughed, a booming, husky sound she never heard often enough growing up. He relaxed backward, his bulk causing the chair to squeak. “They were telling the kids to stay away from matches, not escorting them through a live drill.”
“It was more than that, and you know it.” Marissa’s voice rose against her will and she quickly glanced over her shoulder down the hall into the lobby. Owen was attempting to juggle three caramel squares as he told the receptionist about his homework assignment. Just in case,