Safe in the Fireman's Arms. Tina Radcliffe

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СКАЧАТЬ Correct.” The brochures in her hand slipped to the table and she carefully collected them.

      “Well, ladies,” Jake said, “I guess I’ll be off.” He gave Maggie a quick wink.

      Embarrassed, she only nodded, while Susan scrutinized them both.

      “We should go,” Susan said. “They’re closing the tents for an hour during the raffle. I’ve already gotten us seats up close and personal.”

      Maggie took off her apron, turned her money in to the cashier and followed an impatient Susan.

      “Hurry, hurry,” her cousin urged, linking her arm through Maggie’s. “We don’t want to miss a thing.”

      “Isn’t your mom here today?” Maggie asked, looking around.

      “She’s backstage helping the Paradise Ladies Auxiliary with the pies.”

      “Pies? Some sort of blue-ribbon thing?”

      “Sort of. They raffle pies and cakes that were awarded ribbons earlier this morning. Then they’ll start raffling all sorts of other delectable things.”

      Maggie followed Susan to a reserved seating area close to the stage. “How did you get these great seats?”

      “Al is a sponsor.”

      “You know, I don’t remember any fairs when I was growing up.”

      “That’s because this is the first year.” Susan handed Maggie five tickets. “For the dessert raffle. I put yours in for the chocolate éclairs. We want this to be a memorable day for you. Oh, and keep an eye on Bitsy Harmony’s peach pie. Third from the left. I’m not letting anyone else beat me to that pie.”

      “Who is Bitsy Harmony?”

      “Oh, you remember her. She’s a close friend of my mother’s. Tall with a silver-white bun on the top of her head? Bitsy runs the auxiliary and she’s just the best pie baker in the valley.”

      “The name doesn’t ring a bell.”

      “That’s probably a good thing. It’s best to stay under Bitsy’s radar if you can.”

      “Duly noted.”

      Susan shoved a fistful of tickets into her purse.

      “How many tickets did you buy for the peach pie?” Maggie asked.

      “A few.” Susan’s laughter trilled into the air.

      A moment later, the mayor picked up the microphone and, after a few ear-piercing squeals, began the event. It was a simple, organized process. Names were drawn from glass bowls that sat in front of each baked item.

      After seeing all those tickets in her purse, it was no surprise when Susan’s name was drawn for a peach pie. Her cousin claimed her prize with loud gushing noises of total and complete amazement. As she thanked the mayor, Susan made a brazen plug for her boutique.

      One by one, the desserts began to disappear. Maggie was more than thrilled not to win one of the éclairs. There was absolutely no way was she going up on stage in front of the entire town.

      When the stage was cleared, poster boards were set on display stands. Each had the handsome, smiling face of one of Paradise’s single and therefore apparently, very eligible volunteer firefighters. If the excited thrum of female chatter was any indicator, this was going to be the highlight of the raffles.

      Maggie glanced at each poster, noting Jake MacLaughlin’s face on the last board. He took a good picture, she’d give him that. The photographer managed to catch that wounded-hero look in the black-and-white shot of him with his helmet on, the chin strap loose. The piercing cat eyes seemed to follow Maggie. And then there was that barely there smile on his full lips. It was almost as though he held a secret deep inside.

      She pondered the thought for a moment, and then shook her head. What an imagination she had. Jake was hardly wounded. He seemed to be a carefree bachelor. No doubt there was a long trail of broken hearts behind him.

      She turned and scanned the crowd, spotting him at the back, taking what looked to be a good-natured ribbing from his buddies. When his gaze connected with hers he shrugged his shoulders and grinned, unabashed.

      “Unbelievable. Church ladies auctioning off men,” Maggie said to Susan.

      “No, no. Jake shot down the auction idea.”

      “Jake did?”

      “Uh-huh. This is a raffle. No auctioning. If you win, for your ticket you get a date to the Founder’s Day supper next Saturday with the fireman whose helmet your ticket was picked from. We raise money for a great cause, too.”

      “Remind me what cause that is.”

      “The Paradise Volunteer Fire Department and the Ladies Auxiliary. The auxiliary supports all the local churches, missions and other charitable causes. So we’re giving to the Kingdom of God, as well. He would be very pleased.”

      Maggie opened her mouth at the logic and then gave up. Who was she to judge? Besides, she suspected the Lord would advise staying out of this particular discussion.

      Hoots and whistles exploded through the crowd as winning names were gingerly plucked from the inverted yellow helmets. Each winner enthusiastically claimed their poster and an envelope with tickets inside.

      As each moment passed the mayor inched closer to Jake’s poster. The crowd began clapping in a rhythmic pattern, chanting the name of Paradise’s fire chief.

      “This is getting exciting,” Susan chirped.

      “You think so?” Maggie barely resisted rolling her eyes.

      “You bet I do.” Susan leaned over to her large leopard satchel sitting on the floor. “Oh my. Silly me. I almost forgot. I bought you a few tickets.” She thrust a stack of tickets at Maggie.

      “Tickets?” Maggie startled, nearly falling out of her seat in an effort to gather the chain of paper as the roll tumbled from her lap onto the ground. “Susan. A few is like two or three.” She blinked, stunned as realization hit. “Wait. A. Minute. What exactly are these tickets for?”

      “Why, for Jake, of course. There’s only a hundred and forty-seven.” She frowned. “I thought I brought more money, but I left my checkbook in my other purse.”

      Maggie choked. “One hundred and forty-seven tickets for Jake? Are you nuts?”

      “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my cousin and the firemen of Paradise. You know, Al’s on the board of the PVFD. He’d be so proud of me for this.”

      As Maggie folded the tickets into an orderly pile the clapping ceased. People looked around the tent in wide-eyed anticipation.

      A cold chill passed over Maggie. Mouth dry, she looked up at the stage and then to Susan.

      The microphone screeched and crackled. “Is Margaret Jones here?”

      “Susan,” СКАЧАТЬ