Out Of The Ashes

“What, with your sunny personality?” Kari felt her knees ache in protest to the way she was kneeling, but she didn’t want to move. Any shift might make him move his hand from hers, and for some reason, the sensation it telegraphed to her nerve endings—calm, confidence, competence—washed over her. She didn’t want that feeling to stop.

“No, believe it or not, I’m the cynic of the family.”

“You?” Now she did move, out of surprise. “But you—well, you’re so—well, so sunny.”

She watched as he picked up the pan and dropped it with a clang into the box. Kari saw his frown—not of displeasure, but of thoughtfulness. She could practically see gears turning over in his mind.

“Thanks?” Rob said uncertainly.

Had she missed something? Insulted him in some way? “I didn’t mean—it’s just that you’re always joking—well, not always—”

He lifted an eyebrow wryly. “Ma does say my smart mouth will get me into trouble.”

The word mouth was a mistake. She found herself fixated on his lips. Usually they were as changeable as quicksilver—a crooked grin here, a broad smile there, a tiny knowing smile. But now... He wasn’t smiling, not exactly. The corners were lifted up, showing the hint of a dimple, and revealing a sliver of strong white teeth.

And he was close enough to lean over and kiss her.

“Uh—” Kari scrambled for a lid at the far edge of the living room, underneath the window. Anything to get her mind off the inappropriate thoughts she was having about the guy who probably was employing his investigative skills to put her behind bars again.

“So I take it you’re going somewhere?” Rob commented to her back.

“Another genius deduction on your part?” She returned with the lid and another pan—not to mention her composure.

“I am a detective, after all. Don’t try this at home, kids.” His quip was accompanied with a grin and a clang from yet another of her kitchen bowls. “Empty living room, box full of kitchenware, and bam, it just occurs to me that maybe you’re moving. Where’s the new nest?” A beat of silence, and then a tinge of suspicion crept into his next question. “You’re not leaving town, are you?”

“My mom’s.” Just saying the words made the defeat sting all the more. “I’m moving to my mom’s.”

He seemed to digest the words, chewing on them, staring at her as though he understood how ashamed she felt at this latest mess she’d found herself in.

“So you really do have money troubles?” Rob closed up the battered lid of the box.

“No more than usual—it’s not the rent here. I can afford the rent, just barely. No, it’s...well, my kitchen here is so tiny. I don’t even have a dishwasher.”

He wrinkled his brow. “I don’t follow.”

“State laws say that I can use a home kitchen to cook in, you know, to bake, but I have to live there. It’s the whole cottage industry law—as long as it’s home-baked goods in a regular home kitchen, then I don’t have to meet standards for a commercial kitchen.”

“So...you’re moving in with your mom to use her kitchen?”

“Yeah. Just, well, until I can—” Her face heated up. “Until I can save up to find me a new location that will pass a commercial kitchen inspection.” It smacked of Jake’s wheedled promises to their mom—just until I find another job, just until I save up for a deposit, just until I pay off these guys I owe.

“Or the insurance money comes in,” Rob added speculatively.

Kari couldn’t repress the snort of derision that bubbled up from her insides. “Yeah, right, like that’s going to happen. I can tell you when insurance is going to write out that check—half past never.”

“But you did have insurance, correct?”

“Sure. The whole bit, even paid extra for coverage in case of work stoppage. But it’s arson, Rob. And they’ll take one look at my record...” Kari shook her head. “Never mind. It is what it is. They’ll pay or they won’t. I’ve submitted the claim, so the ball’s in their court.”

“They won’t pay out until my investigation is finished,” he reminded her.

“I know that. So how can I help?”

Did he look surprised at her offer?

“I just had a few more questions.”

“Let me guess. You’re going to be like that old TV detective that was constantly going, ‘Just one more question, Miss,’ aren’t you?” she asked.

“Ma always said I was the curious type,” he acknowledged.

“Ma—whoever Ma is—is right on the money.”

“Ma is my mom, Colleen Monroe. She raised nearly all of us by herself after my dad was killed.”

Kari’s stomach turned at the thought of someone dying because of a stupid fire. She hated fire. Making a conscious effort to shift her attention to something else, she asked, “Who’s all of us?”

“Well, there was me and my brother Andrew, and you’ve met Daniel. And I have three sisters. Daniel had moved out—he was actually a professional baseball player in the minor leagues when it happened. But the rest of us were still at home.”

“That’s—that’s quite a big family.”

“What about you? Do you have just the one brother?”

“Jake? Yes. It’s just me and him.”

“How old is he, anyway?”

“Believe it or not, he’s three years older than me. He just—Mom says he hasn’t found his true calling in life.”

“But you don’t believe that.” It was a statement, not a question. Kari narrowed her eyes at his too-keen observation.

“I guess I’m hoping for Mom’s sake that he’ll find that true calling sooner rather than later,” she said. She made to pick up the box, but Rob closed his hands over hers.

“Allow me. Unless you want to give me another rendition of Clash of the Cymbals.”

“No way. It sounded like I’d let a two-year-old loose in my cupboards. If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it—my car is just outside.”

“Wait, not the vintage Mustang convertible? Man, now that’s a car I could get excited about—”

She laughed. “No, that’s my next-door neighbor’s—he’s going through a midlife crisis. No, mine’s the brown minivan with the peeling paint. The back door should be unlocked.”

He pivoted with the box. “Just put it anywhere?”

“Wherever you can find a spot. I’ll be there in a jiff—I need to grab a few last things from the bedroom.”

Alone, she made one last tour of the empty apartment. It was a good thing she hadn’t had the money to buy a lot of furniture or bric-a-brac. She couldn’t have afforded the storage costs, and her mother’s house didn’t have the space.

With a lump in her throat, she surveyed the sunny rooms she’d first seen just six months ago. So much hope. So much promise.