And now, when he pulled Dwayne to a halt in front of the old Victorian on the corner, a bolt of unexpected fear and concern struck him. He swore, earning an appreciative look from Jasper, and slammed the truck into Park and shoved open the door.
Fear was something firefighters learned to control, at least when it came to major incidents where the unknown would be their greatest enemy. A multialarm fire, multiple-car accident, wildfires. Once, back in Boston when he’d still been a probie, Roman had found himself in a four-floor inferno. His training officer had been knocked out byfalling debris, his own air unit compromised. The suffocating fear that had locked around his throat had almost choked the life out of him, but he’d conquered it, used it. Learned from it.
Spotting Harold and Marty sparring on top of the roof unleashed a new, unknown tendril twining through Roman. He sped along the walk.
Myra, wearing a black suit that with her tangerine hair made her look like a struck match, was already closing in on him.
“She sent you this time, did she?” The anger in Myra’s voice caught him off guard, but her next words told Roman he wasn’t the target of her rage. “Don’t blame her one bit, not wanting to deal with those two bumbling baboons up there. Six years! Six years they’ve been doing the Christmas lights and do you think one season would come and go without them arguing? Darn fools. Stomping around on the roof and giving me a headache. They woke poor Alice up and she has enough difficulty sleeping as it is!”
“What’s their point of contention?” Roman cleared his throat and forced the concern down to where he couldn’t reach it. Even from a distance, he could see Harold’s marine insignia–emblazoned T-shirt along with his slightly shaky knees. That steep roof wasn’t safe for any length of time for anyone, certainly not for an aged marine. Not even for Roman.
“Same as always,” Myra snapped. “Clear or colored bulbs. We alternate every year, but none of us can remember which we did last year. Harold swears we did color. Marty says white. Mind you, we haven’t gotten to the discussion over twinkle or steady burn yet...”
Roman motioned to Jasper to continue the conversation with Myra as he headed over to where the ladder leaned up against the gutter. The damp earth had sucked the stabilizing feet a good inch into the mud, and not evenly. How either of these guys had scrambled onto the roof safely would remain a mystery.
“Afternoon, gentlemen.” Roman gave a quick wave of acknowledgment. “Perhaps this discussion would be better had on sturdy ground?”
“We’re almost done.” Marty gestured with a tangled ball of lights as if in triumph. “Just have to untangle these and drape them over the—”
“Those are the wrong lights!” Harold spat. “We bought new ones last year, remember? LEDs so they don’t burn out.”
“We got those for next year because they’re white. And if we got new ones, where are they?”
“I can’t remember where I put them. Oscar’s looking for them now.”
“Harold? Marty?” Roman moved closer, shielded his eyes against the bright sun. “Guys, it would make Myra and Eloise and even me feel a whole lot better if you’d come down off the roof.”
“Young’un thinks we’re too old to do our jobs.” Harold glared down at him. “I’ve been hanging Christmas lights since you were crawling around in your diaper.”
Oh, if only his mother could hear this conversation. “I’m sure you were, sir, but that doesn’t change the fact you’re worrying your friends. Now, please, come down.” Roman locked his hand around the ladder and gave it a good jerk to test its sturdiness. “Or else I’m coming up after you.”
“You wouldn’t.” Marty looked more offended than concerned. “We don’t need your help! We’re doing just fine.” To prove his point, he did what Roman could only assume was his toned-down version of a jig. “Whoops!” One of his feet slipped, but he caught himself and managed to avoid falling.
“Down!” Roman was done playing nice. “Both of you. Now.”
Given Harold had reached out to grab his friend’s arm when he slipped, the two men nodded in unison. “Okay, okay. You win. Roof’s still wet from the rain last night. That’s the only reason I—”
“Stop making excuses and get down here,” Myra called from behind Roman. She grabbed hold of Roman’s arm and squeezed. “Thank you. Frankie’s trained you well.”
Roman bit the inside of his cheek when Jasper covered a laugh with a cough. “Yes, ma’am.” He watched every step the two men made on their way down and breathed a sigh of relief when they were beside him. “Now.” Roman looked up to where Marty had left the bundle of lights on the roof. “I think we can all agree that the world will not come to an end if, perchance, you repeat the color scheme of last year.”