All Summer Long (Fool's Gold #9)

“No, but I know they can be...difficult.”


She studied him for a moment. “I suspect you do,” she said, then sighed. “Fine. Here goes nothing.”

She walked up the wide driveway, toward the open garage doors. Fire trucks faced out. They were big and slightly intimidating. She couldn’t imagine riding in one, let alone driving one. No doubt there were professional drivers who took care of that sort of thing. A woman in a uniform looked up as Dominique approached.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m here to see my daughter. Chantal.”

The other woman, forty-something with drab skin and lines around her eyes, shook her head. “Sorry. There’s no one here by that name.”

Dominique braced herself for the unpleasantness and said, “Charlie. You would know her as Charlie.”

The other woman’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, sure. Let me get her.”

Dominique smoothed the front of her jacket. In deference to small-town America, she’d dressed more casually. Tailored trousers, a silk blouse and a light jacket. She preferred a suit, but fitting in was important. She might be here awhile.

A door opened and Chantal stepped into the garage area. Dominique drew back when she saw her daughter’s dark blue uniform. The pants were terribly unflattering and the short-sleeved shirt was boxy.

“Mother,” Chantal said warily. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you. We need to talk.”

“I’m at work.”

“You don’t seem very busy.”

“I’m still at work. You’re the one who always told me that without an excellent rehearsal there can’t be an excellent performance.”

“I’m amazed you remembered.”

“I did and this is my rehearsal time. We can talk later. When I’m not on duty.”

“When will that be?”

Before Chantal could answer, a horrendously loud sound cut through the quiet afternoon. It was followed by a voice blaring out something about an accident, followed by an intersection.

Dominique found herself in the middle of frantic activity. People burst into the garage area from all directions. Chantal grabbed her by the arm, dragged her over to the wall and pushed her onto a bench.

“Stay here until we’re gone,” she commanded, then turned and ran.

Dominique bounced back to her feet. “Where are you going? You can’t simply walk away from me like this.”

Chantal took off at a run and didn’t glance back. In what seemed like seconds, people in fireman coats and pants were climbing onto the biggest truck. The ambulance beside it pulled out and turned left onto the street. As soon as it was out of sight, she heard the siren begin.

Someone who looked suspiciously like her daughter opened the driver’s door of the biggest truck and climbed inside.

“Chantal?” Dominique asked, unable to believe what she was seeing.

The driver gave her a quick glance before starting the engine. Dominique sank back onto the bench as the vehicle followed the ambulance.

She doubted it had been even two minutes since the first alarm. Where there had been controlled chaos, there was now silence. Just as unsettling was the realization that her daughter had been the one driving.

Until recently Dominique hadn’t spent much time thinking about her daughter’s day-to-day life. She knew Chantal worked for the fire department, but had never considered what it was she did there. Seeing Chantal in real time wasn’t comforting. There was no place for her in this world. She could never belong, never fit in. The sad truth was she was alone. She was also aware that she really had no one else to blame for that state.

Collecting her small Fendi bag, she walked out of the fire station. Justice was waiting by the limo.

“It was a fire or an accident,” he told her. “An emergency. She had to go.”

She gave him a smile. “You’re being very kind.” She glanced around. “I’m going to walk. Why don’t you take the car back to the hotel.”

He nodded and climbed back into the limo.

Chantal’s station was in the middle of town. It was a Saturday morning and many people were enjoying the late-summer morning. She saw families together, mothers with daughters. A couple of teenage girls were laughing, each holding a Starbucks cup.