Heat of Love

1

Regina

It was a surreal feeling to witness everything you’d worked for, everything your family had built over four generations, be taken from you. Even from across the street, the heat from the flames warmed my skin. I’d never understood what people meant when they’d say they had an out of body experience, but that had to be what I was having. None of it seemed real. It couldn’t be real.

People were shouting. Sirens blared. A crackle and hiss as more flames sparked and lit up the night sky like a cruel fireworks display. Somewhere that sounded both far off and extremely close a person screamed and cried out in disbelief. 

This wasn’t happening.

This wasn’t happening.

There was pressure on my hand. Other voices were trying to cut through the cries. 

Regina!

Regina!

My name, someone was calling my name. I turned and saw Cynthia running toward me. More pressure crushing my fingers. It was Momma. She was crying into Daddy’s shoulder while holding onto me for dear life. 

Cynthia threw her arms around my shoulders. Oh god, Regina. What happened? 

She put her palms on my cheeks. They were cold. So cold in comparison to how hot it was. Shouting. So much shouting and questions—too many questions. I opened my mouth to speak, to answer the unanswerable, but no words came. A long, soul-shattering scream ripped from my throat as reality sank in. 

It was gone.

I opened my eyes and quickly closed them again against the bright sunlight. I was home, in my bed. How did I get home? There was movement beside me, and I looked over to find Cynthia curled up and sleeping peacefully. Last time I’d woken to find her sleeping beside me had been after the accident. 

Once again, my lids fluttered shut as last night’s events replayed in my head. I tried to take in a breath but couldn’t fully inflate my lungs. 

It was gone.

Emptiness spread through me as pain squeezed my heart. I swung my legs over the side and pushed into a sitting position. Cynthia startled at the movement. 

Hey. You okay? You need something? Her voice was groggy with sleep, but she was up and beside me, rubbing her eyes. 

I could only shake my head, and I willed the tears burning the back of my eyes to stay put. They didn’t listen. 

She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and held me tight, rocking us gently. It’s going to be okay. It will all be okay.

How did this happen? 

I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out and then we’ll rebuild.

I sat up and wiped the tears from my cheeks. Thanks for being here.

Not a single thanks needed. You go shower and I’ll get breakfast started if Marcel hasn’t.

I frowned. Marcel?

Yeah, he slept in Darnell’s room, and your parents are in the guest room.  

I massaged at my temples, hoping to stave off the quickly building headache. More flashes from last night of Momma crying, Daddy trying to console her. How did this happen on my watch? I was sure Big Momma and Nana were rolling over in their graves knowing what I let happen to their pride and joy.

How is Momma? The stress is not good for either of them.

Cynthia nodded. She was concerned about you. We all were.

I let out a heavy sigh. It doesn’t seem real, you know?

I know. I texted Irene. She’ll probably call later today. She was going to see if she could rearrange her patients, but if not, she’ll be here Saturday. And your daddy got in touch with Darnell, who was ready to drive home last night. So, expect to see him soon.

Mention of my baby boy—who was now more a man—brought a smile to my face. Though I’d mostly adjusted to being an empty-nester, I still looked forward to his visits. However, this was not a reason I’d want him coming to see me. 

I rolled my shoulders in a failed attempt to release some tension and glanced at the clock. Unease made my stomach ache. I should have been heading to the bakery, preparing for the day. Instead, I sat with my friend, who rubbed small circles on my back, and an absolute loss of purpose covered me like a wet, scratchy blanket. 

I’m going to shower, then I need to go…I need to see.

Okay. We’ll go with you.

I squeezed her hand as emotion clogged my throat. There was zero use in arguing with her over her need to not babysit me. My friend had already seen me at my worst sixteen years ago. With her and Irene I didn’t have to worry about being strong and pulled together all the time. I pushed off the bed and shuffled over to my bathroom.    

As the water heated up, I rested my palms on the granite countertop and stared at my reflection. The bags under my bloodshot eyes seemed to be packed for a month-long trip. I’d survived the loss of my husband and the near loss of my son. 

This will not beat me, I hissed to my reflection. 

And it would not. My heart ached and my soul was crushed, but this would not beat me. I’d always handled my business, and this would be no different.

After my shower, I went through my usual routine, including my makeup. I may have had nowhere to go, but I needed some normalcy. Something to help remind myself of my new mantra: this would not beat me. 

Voices carried down the hall, reminding me I wouldn’t have to deal with the situation alone. The scent of coffee and sausage made my stomach growl. 

Dad spotted me first. Morning, sweetheart. He walked over, hugged me tight, and kissed my cheek. 

He ushered me over to the table where Cynthia and Marcel sat. Momma put a plate in front of me and patted my arm before she gathered the empty dishes.

Has anyone seen my phone? I asked after taking a bite of eggs.

There were calls to make, and I needed to talk to the insurance company. Rebuilding couldn’t get underway until they paid out, and I knew the red tape would be a bitch. Same as when I’d had to deal with the bullshit from the life insurance people.

It might still be in the car, Marcel answered. He pushed back from the table, kissed my friend on the top of her head, and then went outside.

I grinned at her. Have I told you lately how glad I am you came to your senses.

She rolled her eyes. Really. This is what you want to bring up?

I shrugged. Momma agrees with me.

On cue, Mom chimed in. Yes, you snatched Madison’s most eligible bachelor. 

What am I? Chopped liver? Dad asked, incredulous tone coloring each word.

Man, please. You ain’t been a bachelor since the Stone Age. She walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Just the way I like it.

He turned and gave her a quick kiss. Damn right.

This was perfect. A tiny bubble of normal that could almost make me forget. Almost.

Marcel returned, his son in tow, and set my dead cellphone next to my plate. MJ greeted us and offered his sympathies. He also assured me they’d be ready and waiting to get the reconstruction underway soon as they had the green light. He and his father said their goodbyes, and Cynthia excused herself to go get ready.

Momma sat beside me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. I can tell you’re blamin’ yourself.

How can I not? First all that crap with Trent, and now a fire. Just speaking that man’s name made my blood pressure spike. 

I still had a hard time wrapping my head around the fact a man we’d trusted, that I’d trusted, had stolen from me. I’d considered him more than an employee; he’d been a friend. Or so I’d believed. I’d listened, and caved on not doing it all on my own. Gave him more responsibility, and he’d returned that kindness by forging orders and skimming off the top. Right under my nose. How could I not feel inept? Not only did I not catch it sooner, but I hadn’t even suspected it in the first place. Things were just starting to settle from that and his arrest, and now my bakery had caught fire.

Don’t let that thievin’, lyin’ bastard take up your energy, Dad spat. 

He was mostly removed from the business other than to offer support and encouragement. And be first in line as a taste tester for new recipes. But that didn’t mean he stayed out of the loop. He may have been a retired postal worker, but the bakery was a family business.  

Exactly what your father said. And as for the fire, we can’t predict these things. It might have been some faulty gas line, or dry lightning. We just can’t say. Either way, it’s out of your control.

I knew they were right, but that didn’t stop the self-deprecating thoughts. I was at the helm and needed to protect it until I was ready to retire and hand the reins over to my niece Tricia. We would rebuild, and the legacy would continue. I didn’t care what it took.

Cynthia is going to go with me to the bakery, then we’ll pop over to the fire station to see if Chief Morris can give me some info. I’m gonna need it for the insurance, I’m guessin’, and the sooner we know the sooner we can file our claim and get back at it.  

Do you want us to come? Dad asked. You know Pat and I are fishing buddies.

I know, Daddy. But I’m a big girl and I can handle it.

You sure? Not that I don’t think he’d be straight with you, but you know how men are, Momma said.

I feel like I should take some offense here, Dad grumbled, shifting back and forth in his seat.

Mom waved him off. Oh please.

Ready when you are, Cynthia announced on her return.

I got it, Daddy. But if I think he’s giving me the run around, I’ll let you ride in and save me. I gave them both kisses. Lock up when you leave.

2

Alec

Yellow caution tape surrounded the burned-out building. Soot discolored the white brick façade. The front windows were shattered, but the sidewalk was clear of any broken shards. Just A Bit of Sugar was a fun play on words considering the type of business. The decorative sign seemed to be the only thing untouched by the flames and water.

When I’d gotten the call early in the morning that a smaller department had requested an investigator, I’d half expected it to be a case of local teens bored and setting brush fires. Accepting the job in Savannah meant I wouldn’t be in a place where I’d see a lot of action as an investigator since it was one of the smaller regions. Hell, in the six months I’d been part of the Savannah Fire Department, the station only had gotten four fire-related calls. Well, serious fire-related calls.

My mom had been happy about the move since it meant I would be less on the frontlines. Although she and Dad supported my career choice, she’d rather see me behind a desk away from the danger. I wanted to be an investigator for the better pay, but that didn’t mean I didn’t love the rush of running into a building. Man against nature—there was nothing more exhilarating. 

Most of my area consisted of smaller surrounding cities that only had a volunteer department. Being sent out to one of those wasn’t a scenario I’d expected to face often. Or ever, if I were being honest. How ironic that my first call was for just that reason. Madison Island, a town I hadn’t even known existed, small or quaint as my mother would call it. I saw it more as boredom and a slow death.

An older man who looked like he could double as a Black Santa, white beard and hair and the belly required for the job, walked toward me. You must be the investigator, I’m Chief Morris.

That’d be me, sir. Alec Hodge, at your service.

Good, good. Glad you got here so quick. It’s a damn shame. I know the family and this place…the whole town is feeling the loss.

The old-timer smacked his lips and shook his head. I shuddered at the thought of living in a place like this full time. Hell, I was surprised I hadn’t gone completely stir-crazy in Savannah. I missed the hustle and bustle of Atlanta. Nightclubs, bars, a variety of women. One-nighters were much easier in the city, though if there had been one perk to my move, it would be that living farther away made separation from possible clingy encounters a breeze. Been there. Done that. But I still needed out. I’d given myself two years tops at the smaller department for the experience, which would make me a much more attractive candidate for one of the bigger areas. I needed fires to make that happen, and a fire I had, which gave me the chance to show my expertise. A twinge of guilt hit the back of my mind; some poor soul had clearly lost their business, and I was focusing on what a real case would do for my career goals.

So, Chief, what made you call me in? 

He scratched at his full beard. Welp, in all my years here, I ain’t quite dealt with nothing like this. A random kitchen fire here or there, but this… He gestured at the building. Something ain’t right with what happened. I’m semi-retired, got just a couple guys that rotate at the station. Not equipped for the likes of this.

The man sucked his teeth while giving the destroyed space a long look. He suspected possible arson? Interesting. 

I ducked beneath the caution tape, and broken glass crunched under my boots as I entered the wreckage. The scent of charred wood and burnt plastic filled my nostrils. The front room didn’t have damage to the point I couldn’t tell what the place once was. Tables and chairs were overturned, the large glass display case had a crack down the center. A chalkboard sign half erased by the water dangled sideways from one chain listed food items and prices. My quick cursory glance didn’t detect a flashpoint, which told me the fire hadn’t started in this area.

Under different circumstances, the bakery probably was a welcoming place to grab a coffee and donut. I snapped pictures and kept focus in search of a flashpoint. If this was arson, the business owner was always the top suspect. 

A damn shame I tell ya. They’d just done some remodeling a few years back.

I glanced over my shoulder at the chief and made a mental note. Maybe the owner was over-extended. The burnt odor grew stronger as I rounded the counter and headed to the back. The room, which I suspected at one time was white and clean, now sported walls burned down to the studs around the backdoor.

Metal tables with legs buckled from the heat. The floor was a sticky mess of flour and maybe sugar, as the bags that were once probably stacked on the overturned racks were busted and scattered everywhere. On the far side of the room was a walk-in cooler, and the door seemed to be holding. The same couldn’t be said for the fridges that lined the wall closest to the back entry. The level of damage there meant it was probably where things burned hotter because it was the ignition point.

I strolled to that area for closer inspection. Has the owner been having financial troubles? As I kneeled next to the door, the scent of gasoline hit my nostrils, and I noted what looked like a V pattern that was singed around the edges on the linoleum floor. It was possible someone had stood outside pouring the liquid at the base.

Regina? Nah. Folks love her. Hell, my morning wasn’t the same without her deep roast coffee and a bear claw. 

Business was good then?

Before he could answer, female voices got our attention. Someone tugged on the warped back door, then the suggestion was made to go around front. Who would be trying to break in, in the middle of the day? It wasn’t uncommon for people to scavenge around fire sites, there was always something people could find to sell, or in cases like a business, some hoped they would possibly find money.

We arrived at the front just in time to see two women ducking under the tape.

Excuse me, but you can’t be in here, I called out in an attempt to stop them from entering further.

The hell I can’t, shot back the shorter of the two.

I opened my mouth to speak when the chief moved around me, arms open wide. 

Regina. How are you holding up?

She was the owner? I didn’t know why but I was expecting someone older, more grandmotherly with the way the chief had talked about knowing the family and hinting at how long the place had been around. Instead, I was faced with a woman who had curves for days. The jeans she wore showed off her voluptuous figure. Full hips and thick thighs just how I liked them. Her purple V-neck T-shirt did nothing to tone down an extremely large pair of breasts. 

I know they’re impressive, but you look old enough to have seen titties before, so eyes up, fella.

Both the chief and the woman she’d entered with laughed. I had no shame in appreciating an attractive woman. It was a favorite pastime of mine, but doing so on the job and with the owner who might have burned down her own property probably wasn’t the best time.

I smiled and stuck my hand out. Alec Hodge. Your chief called me in.

She glanced at my extended appendage for about half a second before she took it. Regina Parker. And that’s my friend Cynthia Lewis. The other woman with short gray hair and a friendly smile waved. And called you in for what exactly?

He’s a special fire investigator up from Savannah. The chief spoke up. 

She stepped back, planted her hands on her hips, and pushed her purple-tinted lips into a pout while she eyed me up and down. What are you investigating? Other than the girls, that is? She was blunt and pulled no punches. I could respect that.

But she was also more lively and not weepy for someone who’d just lost their business less than twelve hours ago. She was pulled together, complete with her face perfectly made and her red dreadlocks twisted in an up-do.

I spread my arms wide. This, Mrs. Parker. Your chief doesn’t think the fire was accidental.

She arched one perfectly groomed brow. It’s Miss, but just call me Regina. You young, but not that young. Again she gave me a once-over, then turned her attention to the chief.

He put his hands up. Just a precaution. I was gonna call Albert later and talk with y’all.

Cynthia wrinkled her brow and her gaze darted from the chief, to me, and back to the chief again. But you think it was intentional? 

Chief Morris rubbed the back of his neck. I don’t rightly know, which is why I called in Alec over here. Besides, your insurance company will probably want some sort of report for the claim. Better if it comes from someone extra official.

Regina