Shadow Mountain. Leona Karr

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СКАЧАТЬ 9-1-1! Fire. My house!”

      When Jim looked across the street and saw the flames leaping out of the windows and roof, he spun on his bare feet and ran for the phone.

      “What is it?” Betty called from the top of the stairs and hurried down.

      Caroline tried to answer but a spasm of coughing choked her words.

      “Our house is on fire,” Danny whimpered.

      ALL NIGHT crews from two fire trucks fought to control the flames. Caroline knew she never would forget the sound of the wailing sirens and the sight of firemen mobilizing to fight a dangerous enemy.

      By sunup, their victory was small.

      A stench of smoke, ashes and foul water floated through the whole neighborhood. The entire house had been gutted. The back was leveled. Most of the roof on the remainder had collapsed and water damage was everywhere.

      As Caroline stared at the devastation, her lips quivered with disbelief. She and Thomas had bought the house when they were first married.

      It had been the only real home she’d ever had. Her parents had been dryland farmers in eastern Colorado, moving from one acreage to another when times were bad—and they always were. Caroline was an only child and had been weighed down with responsibility and never-ending poverty as she grew up. Her parents had died within a year of each other when she was a senior in high school. She’d always been a hard worker and good student and her perfect 4.0 high-school record earned her a full scholarship to Colorado University.

      She’d been working in the cafeteria when she met Thomas Fairchild, an older medical student doing his internship. Thomas always told her she was the prettiest girl with summer-blue eyes and soft brown hair that he’d ever seen. Their marriage had been a happy one, especially after Danny had become a part of their lives.

      Now, she bit her lip to fight the ache in her heart as she walked across the street and stared at the shambles of their home. Most of the firemen had left, but the fire chief had remained. His expression was sympathetic as he walked over to her.

      “I’m afraid there’s not much left.”

      “But surely, I haven’t lost everything?” she asked, biting her lip to control her emotions.

      He avoided a direct answer. “Do you have any idea what started the blaze?”

      She shook her head. “I can’t imagine how it happened.”

      “Did you have any combustible material stored at the back of the house or in the kitchen?” he prodded.

      “No. And nothing left on the stove. I always clean up after dinner and work a few hours in my office.”

      His eyes traveled over what was left of the house. “I’m afraid the damage is extensive.”

      “I’ll need to go through and see what I can salvage,” she said in a strained voice.

      “Maybe tomorrow,” he hedged. “You’ll have to have one of the firemen go with you.” He cleared his throat. “The cause of the fire is under investigation. We don’t want any potential evidence destroyed. Arson is always a possibility.”

      The way his eyes narrowed suggested he was considering the idea that she’d set it herself.

      She stiffened. “How long will the investigation take?”

      “Hard to tell.”

      Caroline knew that meant the insurance company was absolved of any responsibility to write out a check for who knew how long.

      THREE DAYS passed before she was finally allowed inside the house. In the company of a young fireman, she went through the painful process of salvaging what she could.

      She was relieved that her important personal papers and a few old photos of her late parents were in a metal box that had survived the heat. Her office was destroyed.

      Nothing in the upstairs rooms was salvageable. What hadn’t burned was ruined by smoke and water. When all was said and done, she accepted the stark reality that all was gone.

      She was grateful for the generosity of friends and strangers and, luckily, she had just taken some fall and winter clothes to the cleaners to get ready for the October weather. She had no choice but to use funds from her less-than-impressive bank account to buy necessities for her and Danny.

      “What are you going to do, Caroline?” Betty asked as Caroline sat dejectedly in the kitchen, staring at a cup of tea. “I mean about your business? I know you’ve always worked out of your home but you’re welcome to put in a desk at our furniture store.”

      Jim and Betty owned the McClure Furniture Outlet and it was through their referral of some of their customers that Caroline had secured several redecorating contracts.

      “Maybe that way you’ll pick up some decorating jobs from more of our customers,” Betty encouraged. “And you and Danny can stay with us until things get settled.”

      “That’s kind of you. I just don’t know.”

      After the shock had worn off and reality set in, Caroline gratefully accepted both offers.

      Danny had turned six the first week in October—after school had started, so he was in kindergarten.

      Betty loaned Caroline a laptop and she set up her “office” in a corner of their store. Using the telephone, she prospected for viable clients and created a simple advertising brochure to hand out.

      She had just hung up the telephone, batting zero for the morning, when Betty and an attractive woman approached her desk.

      “Caroline, I want you to meet Stella Wainwright. She’s from Texas and her brother-in-law has a mountain lodge in Colorado that he’s decided to redecorate.”

      “Pleased to meet you.” Caroline rose to her feet and held out her hand. “Caroline Fairchild.”

      The woman was fashionably dressed in gabardine slacks, a pink knit shell and a leather jacket. Her blondish hair was cut short around a tanned face and alert hazel eyes matched her steady expression. Caroline guessed her to be close to forty despite her youthful appearance.

      “She tells me she’s having trouble hiring a decorator willing to go and work in such an isolated place,” Betty explained quickly. “I told her I didn’t know whether you’d be interested—with your other commitments and all,” she added with a straight face.

      “The project sounds interesting,” Caroline responded, smiling and playing the role of a successful, busy decorator.

      With obvious satisfaction, Betty made her retreat, leaving the two women to talk.

      “Please sit down.” Caroline motioned to a nearby chair and turned her desk chair in that direction. “Where is the lodge located?”

      “At the foot of the San Juan Mountains on the western slope of Colorado,” she answered, crossing her legs in a relaxed fashion.

      “Near Durango?”

      “North СКАЧАТЬ