Page 17 of Recipe for Rivals
I shrugged, my hand growing sweaty beneath the coffee pot handle. “I’m not sure. My kids are enrolled at the elementary school, and my aunt gave me a job, so for now, we’re here.”
“For now,” he repeated, nodding, his mind working around something. Blondie put his hand out. “Officer Chad Lincoln, and this is Officer Travis Partridge. Pleasure to meet you, ma’am. Welcome to Arcadia Creek.”
Maybe they weren’t so bad after all. I shook both of their hands. “Thank you.”
When I returned to their table a few minutes later with their plates of breakfast, the bell chimed above the door to admit two men and a woman in firefighter shirts and navy pants. Dusty caught my eye and my stomach swooped.
They walked past the table of cops but didn’t bother looking in their direction as they chose a booth further away.
“Good morning, Miss Walker,” Dusty said, sliding onto his bench. The woman sat beside him, and the other guy sat opposite.
I carried the pot of coffee over. “What can I get you to drink?”
“We just came off a 48-hour shift,” the other guy said loudly, probably for the benefit of the police officers, given the way he eyed them afterward. “A vat of coffee would be great.”
They all nodded, so I flipped their mugs and poured. “Are your shifts always so long? When do you sleep?”
“Two days on, four days off. The whole department does it this way,” the woman said, sliding her full cup toward her and inhaling. “We sleep when we aren’t needed.”
“But we were needed last night,” Dusty said, lifting his cup. “Structure fire out on Haddon Road.”
“Is everyone okay?”
“It was a mostly empty warehouse, so yes, everyone but the owner’s property is okay.”
“I’m glad.”
Dusty gave me a friendly smile. He looked tired, his eyes a little droopy. “As are we.”
“Let me fetch some menus. I’ll be back to take your order shortly.”
“Don’t need them,” the other guy said.
“Great.” I put the coffee pot down and pulled out my pad and pencil. “What can I get for you?”
They placed their orders, and Dusty introduced his coworkers, Randy and Jill, who were both tired but polite. Randy was older than me, with a receding hairline and jovial smile, but he wore no ring. Jill looked to be in her mid-thirties and like maybe life hadn’t been too easy on her. Her brown hair was tied back in a knot, and her skin was free of makeup. She was small but looked strong. Although, I towered over most women, so she could be perfectly average.
“Do first responders often make a habit of breakfasting here?” I asked, my gaze drawing to the policemen and back.
Jill’s nose wrinkled. “Shift work,” she said with mild disgust.
“Don’t tell me the rivalry is real.” My dad had never been anything but appreciative of firefighters. He’d always been charitable—he was a missionary now that he’d retired, remember—so maybe that was a reflection on him more than his profession.
“It’s good-natured,” Randy said, as if that was enough of an explanation. I was beginning to think I’d fallen out of the real world and landed in a little Hallmark village.
“Dusty is rivals with everyone,” Jill said. “Linemen, anyone who went to A&M, cops, the secretary at the elementary school?—”
“Ms. Corbin?” I asked, slack-jawed. “She’s so jolly.”
“She won’t let us spray the kids when we bring our trucks to the school,” Dusty said in defense.
Randy took a drink of his coffee. “Safety hazard.”
“So she says, but they love it. They all line up to get soaked every parade.” He leaned back and drew his arm along the back of the bench seat, flopping it over Jill’s shoulder. “Theyloveit.”
They probably did, but I imagined her disapproval had more to do with keeping all that water out of the school. “Maybe the safety hazard isn’t about spraying the kids and more about the slick floors when they return to their classrooms all wet.”
Dusty pulled his arm from the back of Jill’s seat and sat up, frowning. “She didn’t say that.”