When the smoke wasn’t extinguished right away, she turned on the television to the local news in hopes of some coverage. All she found was a teaser saying a team was on the way, and that there was a fire with the information Erin already had. Then it dawned on her that the media probably received a lot of their information from the same source she did.

As the fire grew, and more engines were sent in, Erin’s anxiety spiked.

Camera crews finally moved on scene with coverage from the closest street they could access. Flames licked up the hillside from behind. So far it appeared that the homes were being saved, but all she saw was dense smoke and fire engines littering the streets. Firefighters all looked the same with their hats on and hoses in their hands. Much as she tried to pick Matt out of the mix, she couldn’t. Once the loop of film started to repeat, she relocated from her perch on the edge of the couch and into Parker’s kitchen.

She needed to move.

Do something to distract herself.

For ten minutes she gathered flour, sugar, and a smattering of baking goods from the pantry and looked in the fridge. Not finding what she needed, she doubled her steps to her house, grabbed supplies, and ran back.

Before she started, she refreshed her feed on the app and flipped through the two news channels that were covering the fire.

Erin knew Parker wasn’t much of a cook, but she’d inherited all the right pans and gadgets from her mother, so the kitchen was stocked with everything Erin needed to work efficiently. With the air conditioner blowing out the heat, she slowly turned the rural home kitchen into a bakery.

By the time Austin came home from school there were dozens of cookies, a full sheet of brownies, a coffee cake, and a peach cobbler cooling on a rack.

Austin dropped his backpack with his mouth gaping open. “What the hell?”

Erin pointed to the television. “There’s a fire,” she said as if that was an explanation of her excessive baking.

He glanced at the TV, and then back at the counter filled with all the wrong, yet completely right, things.

“Yeah, I saw. But what does that have to do with this?”

The timer buzzed with another batch of cookies. These ones were strawberry-filled sugar cookies. “Matt.”

“Matt asked for a sugar high?”

One sheet out of the oven, another one in. “Matt is on the fire.”

Austin popped a cookie into his mouth, moaned. “Yeah. So?”

Erin shook her head. “Matt is working the fire. I’m ahh . . .” She looked around the kitchen and brushed a patch of hair that had fallen from the loose knot she’d secured before she started baking. “I’m baking.”

Austin moved in for a brownie. “You do realize you’re not making any sense.” He took a bite, then looked down at the half-eaten bit. “Holy wow . . . that’s amazing.”

“Don’t eat them all. They’re for Matt.”

At that moment she took a good look at the sheer number of diabetes-inducing goodies she’d managed to bake in one afternoon.

Austin piled three more brownies in his hands. “I don’t think he’ll be able to eat all this.”

“The station. I’ll take it to the station.” Yes, that’s what she was doing. Baking for the team.

She glanced at the clock.

“Are you going to do this every time there’s a fire that Matt is on?”

Her eyes swiveled to the stove. Darn it . . . she didn’t set the timer.

“I don’t know. Yes . . . maybe.”

She looked inside and estimated the time left to bake, then moved to the sink to work on the dishes as she went.

The lady reporting wore a yellow coat that looked to be a fashion statement more than anything that would protect her. She described the scene with words like ferocious and destructive and then followed them up with heroic and fearless. In the end she mentioned a percentage of containment and hope that the fire would be extinguished with full containment by the morning.

“I bet it’s already out,” Austin said with his mouth full of chocolate.

“She said by morning.”

“Step outside and tell me if you see smoke.”

Instead of arguing, she opened the slider and walked to the edge to get a view.

There was smoke, but it wasn’t like it had been a few hours before.

Austin came up behind her. “See.”

“You think it’s out?”

“I think it’s almost out. They don’t consider it contained until they’ve literally put a line in the dirt surrounding the fire damage.”

“Seriously?”

“Yup. You’ll catch up on all this by the end of the summer.” He turned to walk away. “If you want to get all that stuff to Matt’s station so it’s there when they get back, you might wanna pack it up soon.”

CHAPTER TEN

There were several cars parked in front of the fire station. She recognized Matt’s truck among them. A peek through the massive doors didn’t show evidence that the engines were back. Part of Erin wanted Matt to be there, so she could see that he was okay, and an equal part wanted him to be gone so she could sneak in, drop off the tiny bakery she’d created, and leave before he realized she’d done the baking. She parked her car on the street and pulled the first of her provisions from the back seat.

It wasn’t until she was walking up to the front door of the station that she considered that there might not be anyone inside to let her in.

She knocked several times and stood there feeling a little silly. Finally she tried the door to see if it was unlocked.

Bingo.

She cracked the door open. “Hello?” she called out.

Noise from the back of the station caught her attention, so she crept inside. “Hello?”

With her offering in her hand, she continued past the office portion of the station and toward what she assumed was the garage. Instead of an empty space crawling with firefighters, she found a large living space alive with two women buzzing around the kitchen cooking. Much like at home, the television was on with news of the fire coverage on the screen.

“Hello,” she said a third time.

Both of them turned around and smiled.

“Let me help you with that.” The woman who approached her was African American, somewhere in her midforties, not that Erin could really tell, with the kindest smile and most expressive eyes Erin had ever seen.

“I hope it’s okay I just let myself in.” Erin handed her the bag in her hand.

“Of course. Come in.” The second woman was Caucasian, a good ten years younger than the other, with short brown hair and an abundance of eyeliner. Why the eyeliner stood out, Erin wasn’t quite sure.

“I have more in the car,” Erin told them.

“Do you need help?”

“I can get it.”

Erin stacked the trays three high and brought all the rest in at the same time.

Back inside, the women helped her unpack the food.

“I’m Tamara, Anton’s wife,” the older woman said. “And this is Kim, Tom’s wife.”

Suddenly Erin felt out of place. “I’m Erin . . . uhm, a friend of Matt’s.”

The introduction raised their eyebrows and broadened their smiles. “I don’t think we’ve heard about you.”