Roman shook his head and pushed off the counter. “Not at all. Just getting a few things settled. You must be Monty.” He walked over and held out his hand. “Roman Salazar. Nice to finally meet you.”
“Yeah, you, too.” Monty’s congeniality shifted to concern. “Frankie? You okay?”
“I’m fine.” The snap in her voice should have made her brother wince, but he inclined his head, silently asking her if this was her answer. “Sorry. I’m fine, Monty. Rough morning.”
“Yeah, I heard. How are Shirley and Amelia?”
Roman took the offered casserole dish from Monty and set it in the one empty spot on the kitchen table. “They’re okay. It’ll be a while before they can go back home, so they’re staying with a neighbor until then.”
“Which neighbor?” Monty shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on one of the hooks by the door.
“Charlotte Scoggins. Her daughter stays with Amelia when Shirley has to run errands. It’ll be unsettling for them for a while, but like Roman said.” Frankie cleared her throat. “It could have been worse. If you’ll excuse me for a minute.” She wiped her hands on a towel and hurried out of the kitchen past her brother.
“Frankie?” Monty reached out, but she moved too quick. He swung on Roman. “What happened?”
“Adjustment pains” was all Roman said. “You want a beer?”
“Depends. Would that be considered consorting with the enemy?”
“Not by my standards.” Roman returned to building his lasagna, waiting for the calm that descended whenever he cooked. He knew a lot of firefighters considered the cooking part of the job an obligation and a chore. Personally? He loved it. But judging from the amount of food provided by various members of the community, cooking was one firehouse tradition he might have to forgo for a while. “I’m neither hero nor villain in this situation. I’m just a guy who took a job that was offered to him.” He snapped open a bottle of water he’d grabbed earlier. “You want to hold that against me, too?”
“Consider me Switzerland,” Monty said as he retrieved a beer. “But only when Frankie isn’t around. Twin obligation and all.”
“Twins?” Roman shouldn’t have been surprised. “Let me guess. Frankie’s older.”
Monty grinned. “By three minutes. And she never lets me forget it. She fixing Dad’s Thanksgiving pot pie?” He took a seat, shaking his head as he looked at the mess she’d made. “Never mind. I’d recognize these remnants anywhere. And that’s lasagna, huh?” Monty tipped back the bottle. “Now that’s a new one.”
“It usually is. Frankie tells me you charter boats. You do fishing trips?”
“Some. Mostly it’s whale watching and coastal views.”
“Been a while since I’ve been out on the water.” Longing tangled with grief as memories of weekends spent on the water with his father descended like a tidal wave. “How much for half a day?”
“Depends on how many passengers.” Monty rattled off numbers. “I imagine there’d be interest from friends if you want to make it a group outing.”
“Seems a good way to get to know people.” And make some friends, which, Roman was beginning to realize, he would need if he was going to survive his tenure in Butterfly Harbor. “Probably won’t catch a whole lot this time of year.”
“Like a fishing trip is about catching fish.” Monty looked over his shoulder to where his sister had vanished. “You sure you don’t want to tell me what’s going on with Frankie?”
“I’m sure. But, to be honest, she might feel differently.”
* * *
WASHING THE ENGINE had become Jasper’s job in the last few weeks. One of those probie tasks most veterans were happy to pass off. But when Frankie needed to work off a good mad, especially when mad at herself, there was little more helpful than a pressure hose and a long-handled scrub brush.
After pulling the engine out of the bay and dousing it with water, she dug in, scrubbing every inch from the top of the cab to the bottom of the wheel wells. She was almost done when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye and saw Kendall and Phoebe MacBride heading up the hill. How, Frankie wondered for the millionth time, did Kendall not wear a jacket? That uniform of hers—jeans and a dark tank top—only made Frankie shiver, and it wasn’t even cold aside from the brisk breeze blowing in over the ocean a few blocks away.
“Hi, Aunt Frankie!” Phoebe pulled her hand free of Kendall’s and raced up the last of the hill, launching herself at Frankie seconds after Frankie turned off the hose.