Nelson backed him. “I can’t allow you inside until the building inspector signs off and my investigators complete their examination of the scene, but if you or your employees have any personal effects in the unit, my crew can retrieve them before we secure the premises.”
“All right.” She released a pent-up breath, and pushed her hands back into her pocket. “I understand.” To Nelson, she said, “I can’t think of anything, but let me check with my team. I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll come over in a second,” Nelson said. Lauralie nodded, and walked across the lot to where friends and employees had assembled to commiserate and offer support.
He turned to the chief. “Nothing looked suspicious?”
“No. I’m pretty confident it started as an electrical fire. Burn patterns point to a wall outlet. There really shouldn’t be much for her insurance company to spin their wheels on, but you know how it goes.”
“Yeah. I know her, too, though. She’s a fighter.”
“Good. For my own selfish reasons, I hope she gets it sorted out and reopens soon. I’m partial to her cinnamon twists. Later.”
“Later,” Booker echoed. His attention strayed to Lauralie. He wanted to go after her, but Deputy Petty approached and pointed out most of the looky-loos had dispersed now that the fire was out, which was his way of asking to go off the clock. Fair question. It was New Year’s Day, after all. Booker checked in with his deputies and worked out the logistics.
While he accomplished the chore, he kept watch over Lauralie. She and her employees congregated at one end of the parking lot, in a small area inside the yellow caution tape, sorting through the few items firefighters pulled from shop. Occasionally she took a call, or stopped to speak with someone who wandered over despite the tape. Through it all she wore her patented I-can-handle-anything look.
Time to wrap this up. Picking through charred remains and putting on a brave face for employees and customers wouldn’t rebuild her business any faster. He walked over. She stood with her back to him, listening to a red-faced blond woman who punctuated her rapid-fire speech with air pokes from her extended index finger. He didn’t recognize her, but whoever she was, she’d evidently decided the warning tape didn’t apply to her, and she clearly hadn’t stopped by to offer assistance.
“…bad luck, or your own negligence. Ultimately it’s not my problem. My problem is you have a thousand dollar deposit on a wedding cake you’re not going to be able to deliver. I want my money back, and I want it back now.”
He increased his pace, and prepared to call out, because he was ready to boot the blonde for trespassing, but Lauralie responded first.
“You know what, Cindy? I don’t walk around with thousand dollar rolls on me. If you check the order form you signed, you’ll note I have thirty days from the date you cancel to issue a refund.”
The blonde pulled a folded form from her purse, flicked it open and scanned the page. Then she looked up and glared at Lauralie. “I’m canceling.”
Lauralie nodded. “Fine. You’ll get your refund within the specified time f
rame.”
The other woman stood for a moment, obviously unsatisfied and seemingly prepared to argue. Then her attention shifted to him. She swallowed, and smoothed a hand over her hair. “I’d better, or I’ll see you in court.” With that, she stomped off.
Lauralie let out a long breath and pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. Finally, she turned, and stopped short when she saw him. “You’re still here.”
“I’m still here. Did you think I’d just sneak off?”
…
Her cheeks burned. Yes, she’d snuck off this morning, but, hell, she’d done him a favor. One he’d never know about, if she had her way. Nobody deserved to kick off New Year’s Day dealing with her mother. Look what it had done to her. Less than an hour after she’d handed the contents of her safe over to Denise, the place had burned down. Another example of her mother’s toxic Karma. Or maybe she was she producing her very own toxic Karma now? Like mother, like daughter.
“I didn’t sneak off. I left you a note.”
“I can’t tell you how comforting that note was to me when I woke up alone in your apartment to the sound of my dispatch supervisor telling me your shop was on fire. I didn’t have a fucking clue if you were inside.”
Shit. Defensive words sprang to her lips, but she swallowed them down, because the look on his face silenced her. She wasn’t so absorbed in her own situation she couldn’t put herself in someone else’s shoes. “I’m sorry you worried. I’m fine.”
Just fine. My business is gone. The people I employ are out of jobs. I owe six thousand dollars in deposit refunds I used to make my mother go away. My insurance sucks, and I’m probably going to default on my business loan. But otherwise? Best New Year ever.
The tension in his jaw relaxed. His shoulders came down a notch. “You’re not fine, but you will be.”
“Yeah.” She meant to sound confident, because she didn’t intend to pour out her troubles to anyone, but the single word fell short of the mark to her ears.
“You’re tired, and you’ve done everything you can do for now. Let’s go.” He held out his hand, palm up. “Give me your keys. I’ll drive you home.”
Sweet of him to offer, in his I’m-in-charge way, but invisible hooks inside her refused to detach from the charred remains of her livelihood. As painful and illogical as it was to linger in the parking lot, so long as she did, Babycakes existed in her present. Once she left, her dream-come-true officially became part of her past. A memory. Her days wouldn’t start with her strolling under the striped awning. No more unlocking the door to the tidy shop, and feeling her chest swell with pride. She couldn’t let it go yet, but Booker didn’t need to hang out while she mourned. More importantly, she didn’t need any witnesses.
“Thanks, but I’m going to try to reach my insurance agent before I leave. Make sure I’m not overlooking anything. I’ll see you…” shit “…around.”