“The Flutterby’s pretty much booked solid between now and New Year’s. With Thanksgiving next week, you’re going to have a hard time finding a place.” He pushed himself up and retrieved a key on a loop of rope behind the office door. “Feel free to bunk in one of the rooms upstairs. They’re nothing fancy, but each has a bed, private bathroom, TV. Basement has a bunch of old furniture you’re welcome to. Only other person who stays here other than me is Frankie during her shifts.”
“Thanks.” Roman accepted the key. “You don’t have anyone manning the phones?”
“Dispatch calls are forwarded to the station or, if we’re out on a call, direct through our cells. We’ve got air-raid sirens for calling in volunteers, but we’re used to using cells. Up to you if you want to continue that. We’ll get your number into the system beginning Monday morning.” Chief Granger shook his head at Roman’s obvious surprise. “Like I said, things are different here. We don’t have a ladder truck, but we’ve got mutual aid agreements with Durante, Monterey, Pacific Grove and a handful of towns smaller than here. You need more than our team can give, they’re a call away. Most of the time we only need ladder trucks during the summer fire season even though that seems longer every year. You want to hire additional staff, you’ll have to get the funds from the mayor yourself. Keep in mind, we just spent a good chunk of town money upgrading our equipment—upgrades we requested more than five years ago.”
Better late than never, Roman supposed. On the station tour the chief had given him, he’d been impressed with the outfitting of the station house and the SUV. The air tanks and facemasks, not to mention new overcoats, all but gleamed where they were stored and hung. He’d counted a dozen cubbies with volunteers’ names, each filled with the necessary equipment.
“I’ll take the next couple of days to get acquainted with all the procedures, regs and volunteers.”
“It won’t take you that long. We do a lot of winging it here.” Chief Granger’s smile was tight and, if Roman was correct, filled with regret. “Going to be hard to leave. Me and this place, we’ve been through a lot together.”
There was that small-town sentimentality again. While Roman couldn’t understand it, he supposed he could empathize.
“Frankie’s dad hired me right out of college,” Chief Granger continued. “He taught me everything I know, about being a firefighter, about being chief. About being a man. Best and worst day of my life was when they asked me to take over for him.” He rubbed a hand down the door frame scarred with letters and numbers. “Not a day goes by I don’t think about him.”
Now that Roman could understand. “You’re still young. Why retire now?”
“Fifty-five isn’t what it used to be.” Chief Granger offered another tight smile. “I’ve lived here all my life. Married my high school sweetheart, had three kids, now I’ve got my first grandchild on the way. Neither me nor the missus has seen much beyond this town. Hard to take time away when there’s only a handful of us. My wife and I did want to travel before we’re too old to enjoy it. So when Jake Gordon put his motor home up for sale, we took the plunge. Ellen and I are headed out first thing Monday morning. Going to spend Thanksgiving in Los Angeles with our oldest and his wife, and from there, who knows? First holiday season we haven’t spent in Butterfly Harbor. But we’re ready for the adventure.”
Roman found it difficult not to appreciate the fondness in Chief Granger’s voice. All the places he’d lived had only ever been that: a place to live. The next rung on the ladder. The next phase of his life leading to who knew what? Part of him envied the affection the chief held for Butterfly Harbor and, by extension, its residents. The other part of him knew his own future employment plans wouldn’t allow for such strong connections.
“You have family, Roman?”
“My mother and two aunts,” Roman replied. “They’re all widows and pretty much move from cruise ship to cruise ship these days. Keeps them active and happy.” And far enough away they couldn’t challenge him on setting his personal life on the backburner.
“No wife? No kids? Brothers or sisters?”
Roman shook his head, effectively blocking the familiar emotional wallop that accompanied any discussion of family. “No. Just me.”
“Too bad. That’s what keeps you grounded. Frankie’s father taught me that. Those kids, Frankie and her brother, Monty, they were the light of his life. He always told me, you can’t do this job without a heart, and you’ll find that heart when and where you least expect it.”