Roman didn’t miss the dazed expressions on people’s faces as they drove down the main street of town. “They look as if they’ve never seen a fire truck before.”
“Honestly? They don’t a whole lot. For most of the calls we take Dwayne. The SUV’s faster and more maneuverable. Especially—” she glanced at him with what he swore was an amused glint in her eyes “—for Tom Thursday.” She looked down at her phone, which was blinking and buzzing with responses from their volunteers. “I’ve got Kendall, Ozzy and Kurt Murphy on their way. They’ll suit up at the station, grab Dwayne and meet us at the call.”
“That should be enough of us,” he said.
“Yes,” Frankie muttered. “Yes, it will.”
Roman brought up the map as Frankie made another turn and headed them down the road parallel to the freeway. The radio crackled with static and the echoes of other calls going out to departments in the area. Roman kept half an ear open and tried to get a bearing on his surroundings. He’d already taken all of Saturday to drive extensively around the area. He wanted to see it firsthand, in the daylight, for those times Frankie wasn’t around to guide him. He needed to know every corner of Butterfly Harbor.
“So this Tom Thursday.” He’d had to have been blind to miss that quirk of Frankie’s full lips. “I haven’t met him yet, I don’t think.”
“No, I don’t suppose you have. He only pops up around this time of year. Thanksgiving and Christmas. New Year’s, too.” She hit the turn signal and waited to drive into a large parking lot across the road. “Look, Chief, I know you’re trying to make a good impression, but honestly—”
“Is that him?” Roman cut her off when he spotted an elderly man with a walker waving a white handkerchief in the air. He was surrounded by a familiar-looking group of older folks, most of whom he recognized from the other morning in the diner.
“In a manner of speaking.” Frankie shook her head and maneuvered the truck in front of the group huddled together by the front door of the Homestead Pack & Sack. “Chief, wait, don’t—”
Roman shoved out of the truck, ignoring Frankie’s clutching hand as she reached to grab him. “Mr. Thursday?” Roman pushed his helmet onto his head and strode over to the group. “Which one of you is—”
“Land’s sake, what’s all the fuss about? Is Dwayne in the shop?” A slight gnome of a woman with bright tangerine hair walked past him to the truck, a wicker purse tucked into the curve of her arm. “How are we all going to fit in there?”
“Ah, ma’am?” How indeed? Roman’s stomach dropped to his toes as heat surged to his face. “Ma’am, please be careful.” But he wasn’t quick enough to stop her from ducking around the still-open door and peering inside the cab.
“Hello, Frankie,” Myra said. “Ain’t room in here for more than three of us. Maybe four. Oscar, you and Harold might have to wait for backup.”
“Ma’am?” Roman tried again.
“Look at him, all dressed up.” A rotund woman with what looked like turkey feathers sticking out of her bobbed white hair circled him like a shark. “Isn’t that a picture? Oh, yes. Penny, take our picture. I want to put it up on that InstaFace Frankie helped me set up.”
“He is a sight, that’s for sure, Polly.” Penny—at least Roman supposed that’s who she was—began digging around in a bag Mary Poppins would be proud of and crowed, “Get on over by him, too, you lot. This will look great on our bulletin board. Does he dance? Do you dance?” She beamed up at him, hope twinkling in her eyes.
“All right, you guys.” Roman blinked dazedly at Frankie as she dropped out of the truck and joined them. She’d ditched her jacket and helmet, one suspender looped over her shoulder, the other hanging free. “You all know very well the new chief isn’t up on our secret code.”
“Thought you’d have filled him in on that by now, Frankie.” Penny fluttered heavily mascaraed eyes at her phone as she moved it in and out. “Can’t say I’m disappointed to see him in the flesh, so to speak. I can’t get this darned thing to focus.”
“You have it on selfish mode.” The balding old man with a death grip on his walker leaned so far forward Roman wondered if there was about to be an emergency after all.
“Guys!” Frankie stuck her fingers in her mouth and whistled. “I know he’s nice and shiny, but focus. What happened to your ride?”