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His smile turned a little sad—maybe with a tinge of pity. “Worst sleepover ever,” he said, and I snorted.
Most of the time, I tried not to think about that night. But in that moment, I couldn’t stop it all from flooding back to me—our house, the fire trucks, my mom’s soot-stained pajamas… That’s when I learned what kind of support I could expect from the great Lydia Radcliffe. Doting grandmother, indeed.
The fire was the end of my life in New Elwood. The time I was forced to leave the only home I’d ever known, including my childhood best friend, Rex Montgomery.
ELEVEN
CHARLIE
“Ah, screw it.” Rex grinned and crossed in front of me, then wrapped the other man in a bear hug while he whacked him on the back with all the strength of a firefighter in his prime. “Bastian! Never thought I’d see you around here again. Charlie, you have no idea what you’re in for with this guy around.”
I forced a smile as Rex turned to face me, beaming, his muscular arm still slung around Anderson’s shoulders. “I have an inkling,” I replied through gritted teeth, hiking my big tote bag higher on my shoulder.
“You don’t call. You don’t text,” Rex went on, beaming at Anderson, fake punching him in the ribs. “Broke my little eleven-year-old heart. You here to stay, or what?”
“Not if I can help it,” my nemesis replied.
Rex laughed, as if Anderson had been joking, then turned to me. “Anything to add, Charlie?”
“That’s the first reasonable thing I’ve heard him say since we met two days ago.”
“I think you two might be soulmates,” Rex said, clutching his chest. “And here I thought I had a chance with you, Charlie.”
“Not on your life,” I answered, but I couldn’t help the grin that twitched on my lips. Rex winked in response, which, strangely, made Anderson’s scowl deepen. Apparently even Sophie’s baked goods weren’t enough to sweeten the man up. Shame. Looked like I might have to reassess Operation: Catch a Fly and Drown It.
“How do you two know each other?” I asked. Rex was the fire marshal and a volunteer firefighter, and an all-around good guy. I couldn’t imagine him and Sebastian Anderson, AKA Mr. Scum of the Earth, traveling in the same circles.
Rex grinned and pointed to the scar on his eyebrow. “This kid kicked a dodgeball in my face and then laughed at me in the first grade.”
“That tracks,” I said, and Sebastian rolled his eyes.
Rex laughed. “We were inseparable, until?—”
“Until I moved away,” Sebastian finished tersely.
Rex shot him a quick look and nodded. “Until he moved away.”
“I see,” I answered, even if I didn’t really see at all.
“Let’s do this,” Rex said, pulling a palm-sized tablet out of his back pocket. Well, it was Rex’s palm size, which were about twice the size of mine. “First things first, the landing. The Virginia fire code for existing buildings states that the landing for approved fire exits can’t be less than seven feet or more than twelve feet from street level and must be made of noncombustible material. The lobby door is at grade and the landing is made of concrete, so we’re all good there.”
I nodded. That was a good start.
“Any plans to make alterations to the facade?”
Anderson and I exchanged a glance, then looked at the peeling paint on the Art Deco structure, the old marquee that no longer lit up, and the rows of bulbs lining the graceful curves of the building.
“It could use a facelift. Paint, new lights,” I said.
“Any changes you make will have to be compliant, so I can send you a report with the rundown of what you’ll need to keep in mind.”
“Thanks, Rex.”
“And how do you propose we pay for this facelift?” Anderson asked me, arching a brow.
“Mayor Greene gave us a budget for the works. I propose we pay for it with that,” I sniped.
“Right. And leave no budget for the interior?”
