“Could we be focused, people? Clay has everything we’re looking for.”

“And more,” Olivia said with a wink. “But no from me.”

Charlie stared at her. “What?”

Her captain shrugged. “Come on, Charlie. Be serious. Sure, he’s physically fit and yes, he passed the interviews. I have no doubt he’d do fine on the psych exam, but so what? He’s not someone we can depend on. We put a lot of money into training our volunteers. We need to know we can count on them. I’m not going to spend money on a butt model.”

Charlie felt her temper rising slowly to the surface. “You’re telling me you’re not going to give him a chance because he’s too attractive?”

“No. He’s unreliable.”

“What is that based on? He was on time to each of my classes and stayed to the end.” She turned to Michelle. “Was he late to the interviews?”

“No, but...”

Charlie waited.

Michelle sighed. “He was on time.”

Charlie turned back to Olivia. “So how is he any more or less dependable than the other candidates?”

“You know what he is,” Olivia told her.

“No. I don’t. What I know is he’s interested and meets all our criteria. But that you don’t want to give him a chance. Wow, this is kind of like saying if someone wears glasses he or she must be smart. Or if a girl is too pretty, she can’t be intelligent, too. If he were a woman, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. We would, in fact, be going out of our way to make sure we were fair to her. I’m shocked that this is the message we want to send to the department and the community.”

Charlie stared at the other women at the table, genuinely surprised by the fact that they weren’t giving Clay a fair chance.

Olivia shifted in her seat. “You’re making this a big deal. Why do you care if he gets into the training program or not?”

“Because I do a lot of the training and he’s the best one we have. It pisses me off that he’s being dismissed because of how he looks. Probably because it’s happened a lot to me, but for very different reasons.”

Michelle drew in a breath. “She’s right. He knew more than the others. Not just about firefighting in general, but how we do things here. He’s put time into his research. Charlie has a point. Refusing to consider Clay because of how he looks or what he was doesn’t speak very highly of us.”

Olivia wasn’t pleased. “Fine. We’ll put him in the program, but if he screws up even once, he’s out.”

“No,” Charlie told her boss. “I don’t agree with that. We have very specific rules in place and consequences. If Clay breaks the rules, then the same consequences apply to him as they would to anyone else.”

“Whatever.” Olivia made a note on the list. “Who’s next?”

* * *

“I WAS so angry,” Charlie said at lunch. “They practically called him a piece of ass. It never would have happened if he were a woman. I don’t get it. I’ve been dismissed because of how I look. I know how it feels. Most of them do, too. So why are they acting like this?”

Annabelle reached across the table and grabbed a French fry from Charlie’s plate.

“Is that allowed?” Patience asked with a smile. “The fry, I mean. Not how the meeting went.”

Charlie eyed the other two women’s lunches, noting the big pile of greens in bowls. “If you don’t want salad, why do you order salad?”

“Because I don’t burn a million calories at my job and I’m as tall as a mushroom,” Annabelle said, then popped the second half of the fry into her mouth.

“I like the pretense of eating healthy,” Patience told her.

Charlie sighed and turned her plate so the fries were facing the other two, then motioned to Jo who stood by the bar.

Jo grinned. “They’re stealing again?”

“It happens every time.”

“I’ll bring out more as soon as they’re ready.”

“Thanks.”

Charlie picked up her burger. “What was I saying?”

“You were ranting,” Patience told her. “It was a good rant. I admire your ability to say what you think. My daughter’s good at it, too.”

“Lillie is good at a lot of things,” Annabelle said. “She’s so fun when she comes to the library. But we were talking about Clay and the meeting.”

“I’ve seen him around town,” Patience said, then sighed. “Wow. He’s seriously good-looking. It’s like he’s not really one of us. I admire you standing up for him.”

Annabelle, who knew a little more of what was going on with Clay, looked amused and concerned at the same time. Charlie had a feeling she was going to get a talking-to fairly soon.

“Me, too,” Annabelle told her. “And I’m surprised that it was an issue. I thought we were more evolved than that.”

“They think he’s going to be flaky. That he won’t follow through. If he’d given them any reason for that, I would totally support their concern. But he hasn’t. He’s shown up when he’s supposed to and done what he’s told.”

“An excellent quality in a man,” Patience said, her eyes twinkling. “I like him already.”

“Interested?” Annabelle asked causally, keeping her gaze on Charlie.

Charlie forced herself to take a big bite of her burger and chew as if she hadn’t felt a single twinge of jealousy. That sharp pain in the region of her heart was just, um, preindigestion.

“Wish I could be, but no. My ex cured me of ever being willing to trust a man again.” Patience’s smile turned rueful. “Not as much for me as for Lillie. Ned wasn’t interested in being a dad, so he signed away his rights to her. I’m not interested in breaking her heart a second time.”

“Not all guys are jerks,” Annabelle told her.

“I’ve heard the rumors. So far I don’t believe they’re true. Although your guy is pretty special.”

“I know,” Annabelle said with a sigh.

“Oh, the fries are ready.” Patience got up and walked toward the bar.

Annabelle watched her go, then leaned forward. “Be careful,” she said in a low voice. “About Clay.”

“I wasn’t reacting emotionally,” Charlie whispered. “I defended him because it was the right thing to do.”

“I agree, but I’m worried about you.”

“We’re just friends.”

“You’re having sex.”

“Not yet, but soon.” Anticipation sent an odd heat burning through to her thighs.

Her friend looked at her. “You’re messing with forces you can’t control.”

“You sound like a sci-fi movie.”

“Great truth can be found there. I’m serious, Charlie. I’m glad you’re healing and it’s great that Clay is helping, but things happen when a woman has sex. It’s difficult not to get emotionally involved.”

Charlie saw Patience was chatting with Jo. “I know,” she said quietly. “He’s helping me. Nothing more.”

“You’re trusting him with something intimate. What you do will affect you more than you think.”

“I know myself. I’ll be fine.”

Patience returned with the fries. “Jo was saying all the hotel rooms in town are booked for the Fall Festival. That’s one of my favorites.”

“Mine, too,” Charlie said. “I’m a sucker for candied apples.”

Annabelle shook her head, as if accepting Charlie wouldn’t listen, and joined the conversation.

Charlie appreciated her concern, but knew the truth. She wasn’t at risk of falling for Clay. She knew exactly what she was doing and what was going to happen when they sealed the deal, so to speak. He was a way to get what she wanted—emotional healing that would allow her to be the best mother possible. She had no expectations for anything beyond his tutorial skills.

* * *

DOMINIQUE RANG THE bell and waited. She knew there was an excellent chance her daughter would leave her standing on the porch, but part of May’s advice had been not to give up. Dominique planned to be as persistent as necessary.

She had several pages of notes from her afternoon at the other woman’s house. None of it made sense to her, but she understood that she had to do something. The alternative was to give up and leave. An attitude that did not get one very far in life. Dominique was willing to admit she had flaws, but not being willing to do the hard work wasn’t one of them.

She waited for several seconds, then pressed her finger on the bell again, this time not letting up until Chantal flung open the door and stood in front of her.

“I was coming,” she said defensively. “I was in the back of the house.”

“You were hoping I would go away. You’ve been avoiding me.”

Her daughter’s mouth twisted, perhaps in annoyance, perhaps in frustration. But instead of denying the obvious, she stepped back and motioned for Dominique to enter.

“No bodyguard?” Chantal asked.

“He’s back in Los Angeles for a few weeks. He’ll return soon enough.”

Chantal led the way to a smallish living room. There was a worn sofa and a couple of chairs. The fireplace was nice—original, Dominique thought.

“This house has good bones,” she said, settling on a sofa cushion. “But the wall color is drab and your fabric choices are plain. Whoever you hired as a decorator should be fired.”

Charlie wore worn jeans and a T-shirt. Her feet were bare, as was her face. Her hair stood in unruly tufts, as if she’d been running her fingers through it.

Now she put her hands on her slim h*ps and sighed. “That’s why you’re here? To criticize my house?”

“No. Of course not.” Dominique wanted to point out she’d simply been offering an opinion. She replayed the words and thought perhaps they had sounded critical, although that hadn’t been her intent.

Chantal reluctantly sat in a chair, her arms crossed over her chest.

She looked so much like Dan, Dominique thought. The familiar ache, the pain of missing the only man she’d ever loved, returning to prod her heart. His eyes, his smile. Certainly his build.

He had loved her so much. She had been the center of his universe. And then Chantal had been born and he’d given much of that love to his daughter.

Dominique understood that it was good for a father to love his children, but she’d never understood his total devotion. She’d felt as if she’d lost the only thing that had ever mattered. Because being who she was and having all the accolades had never been as important as Dan’s love.

“Are you all right?” Chantal asked.

“Yes. Of course. I was thinking about your father. He adored you.”

Her daughter gave her a genuine smile. “He was great. I still miss him.”

“I do, as well. He was such a wonderful man.” Dominique put her hands in her lap and glanced around the room. “The windows are very nice.”

“Thank you.”

“You own the house?”

“Yes. I bought it shortly after I moved here.”

“Why Fool’s Gold?”

What she really wanted to ask was “What possessed you to choose this ridiculous little town when you could have lived in New York or Los Angeles” but felt that might sound slightly judgmental. May had told her to be accepting. To try to think about things from her daughter’s point of view.

“I fit here,” Chantal told her. “I’d been living in Portland when I came here on vacation.”

“Maine?”

“Oregon.”

“You lived in Oregon?”

Chantal smiled. “It’s nice there.”

“I doubt I’d like it. Too much rain. The weather is better here.”

“They have seasons.”

That established, they both looked around the room. Dominique was aware of the silence, of the awkwardness. How she didn’t know what to say to her own child.

Chantal drew in a breath. “Mom, are you here for a reason?”

Dominique wasn’t sure if she meant visiting at that moment or in Fool’s Gold in general, but decided it was time to speak the truth.

“I was recently diagnosed with colon cancer.”

Chantal stared at her. “That sounds bad. What do the doctors say? Are you going to be all right?”

The words were correct and there was a hint of concern in her voice, but Dominique was aware that her daughter didn’t move toward her. There was no comforting hug offered. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized a hug was exactly what she needed.

She shook off the weakness and squared her shoulders. “I’m fine. I had surgery and they got it all. But it was extremely unpleasant. Everyone talking about my bowels. A very undignified episode.”

Her daughter’s mouth twitched. “You’re saying it would have been better if it had been a different body part?”

“Of course. But that’s irrelevant. My time in the hospital reminded me of what’s important. That’s why I’m here. To spend time with you. We’re family. We should be close.”

One didn’t need to be Chantal’s mother to read the trapped expression in her blue eyes. “It’s not something we can order off a take-out menu. Neither of us is very good at relationships.”

Dominique wanted to protest. She was very good with people. She’d always handled the press extremely well. But she supposed Chantal meant personal relationships. Emotionally intimate ones.