She wanted to melt into him like the needy exhomecoming queen she was. Instead, she kept her spine straight and arms at her sides. “I have work to do.”
He let her go with a sigh and walked to the door. With his hand on the knob, he turned back and regarded her imperiously. “It’s not over, my dear. Whatever you may think.”
She waited until he disappeared to rush to the door and throw the lock. Her chest felt tight, but she absolutely refused to start crying over another man. She grabbed the casserole and paced around the store, eating a few bites here and there, missing Delilah, missing Gordon, missing the man she was determined to lock out of her heart. By the time she finally got back to work, the pleasure had faded, and at ten o’clock, she began turning off the lights. When she reached the front of the store, however, something across the street caught her attention. At first she thought it was an illusion, an odd reflection from the streetlights, but then she looked more closely and gave a soft gasp.
Smoke was trickling from the second-floor window above Yesterday’s Treasures.
“’Tis no wonder we grew up like snarling dogs.”
G
EORGETTE
H
EYER
,
These Old Shades
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Sugar Beth watched the smoke trailing from the window. The lights were on. Winnie was up there.
She dove for the phone and called 911. After she’d given the dispatcher the information, she hung up, thought for a moment, then grabbed the stapler from the counter, unlocked the door, and rushed across the street.
Smoke was still coming out. “Winnie!” she yelled up toward the window. “Winnie, can you hear me?”
There was no response. She peered through the front window but couldn’t see any smoke on the first floor. She rattled the knob and, when it didn’t give, stepped back and flung the stapler at the door. The safety glass shattered into a thousand round pebbles.
The faint smell of smoke hit her as she stepped inside. “Winnie!” She made her way to the back of the store. “Winnie, are you up there?” The smell of smoke grew stronger. She saw a narrow wooden staircase leading to the second floor. It had death trap written all over it.
“Winnie!”
She heard a thud, then an un-Winnie-like curse. “Call the fire department!”
“I did. Come down!”
“No!”
She strained to hear sirens, but there hadn’t been enough time. Reluctantly, she grabbed the handrail and made her way up the stairs.
Three rooms opened off the dingy hallway at the top, with a smoky haze coming from the center one. She headed toward it. “Winnie?”
“In here!”
The room was long, high-ceilinged, and old-fashioned, a combined living area and kitchenette. Smoke poured from the area near the stove. Winnie was beating at the cupboard next to it with a bath towel. Although Sugar Beth couldn’t see any leaping flames, the situation was far from under control, and Winnie should be getting out.
“I was making fried chicken, and—” She glanced over her shoulder and started to cough. “What are you doing here?”
“Do you want me to leave?”
“I don’t care what you do.”
“I should let you burn.”
“Then get out.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
Winnie gasped as a stack of paper napkins sitting on the counter burst into flames. While she swung the towel at them, Sugar Beth snatched a scatter rug from the floor and began beating at a wisp of flame licking at a wall calendar. She heard the sound of a siren. Her eyes were stinging, and it was getting harder to breathe.
“This is stupid. The fire department’s coming. Let’s leave while we can.”
“Not till they get here. I can’t let this spread downstairs.”
The store held irreplaceable antiques, and Sugar Beth could almost understand. Almost. She slapped at the cupboard door. “Say, ‘Pretty please, Sugar Beth. Stay and help my stupidass self.’”
“The towel!”
Sugar Beth spun around in time to see a dish towel drop to the floor in flames. She smothered it with the scatter rug, coughed. “You’re giving me back Diddie’s pearls, or I swear to God I’ll lock you up in here.”
“Bite me.”
The smoke was getting thicker, the sirens closer, and Sugar Beth decided Winnie had pressed her luck for long enough. She tossed down the scatter rug, took a quick step forward, and threw a hammerlock around her neck.
“What are you doing?”
“Putting an end to negotiations.”
“Stop it!”
“Shut up. The trucks are almost here.” Sugar Beth pulled her toward the door.
“I’m not going anywhere!” Even though Sugar Beth was taller, Winnie must have been working out because she was strong as an ox, and she started to break away. Sugar Beth used a neat trick she’d learned from Cy Zagurski and dragged her into the hallway.
“Ouch! That hurts. You’re twisting my arm off.”
Sugar Beth began maneuvering her down the steps. “Play nice, and I won’t break it.”
“Quit it!”
“Save your breath.”
They were nearly at the bottom when she made the mistake of easing the pressure. Winnie immediately tried to bolt back up the stairs, but she’d breathed in just enough smoke to slow her reflexes, and Sugar Beth put her in another choke hold. “Quit being an idiot!”
“Let me go!”
She wasn’t certain how much longer she could have held on to her if the first fire truck hadn’t pulled up in front of the store just then. Winnie saw it, too, and finally stopped struggling. Through the broken door, Sugar Beth watched people getting out of their cars and realized a small crowd had begun to form.
She also realized she’d just been handed a golden opportunity. Granted, it was the kind of opportunity a more honorable person would resist. Colin, for example, wouldn’t think of it. Neither would Ryan, and certainly not Winnie. But the fire didn’t seem too serious, and none of those stuffed shirts had Sugar Beth Carey’s particular gift for enjoying the moment.
The firefighters jumped from the truck and rushed toward the broken door, but before they could get there, Sugar Beth stuck out her foot and tripped Winnie. Since she was a naturally considerate person, she made sure she caught her before she fell into the broken glass.
“I’ve got her!” she called out to the pair of firemen who’d just broken into the store. “I didn’t think I was going to be able to carry her all the way down the stairs—she weighs a ton—but the Good Lord was watching over both of us.”
“What do you think—”
She plastered her hand across Winnie’s mouth. “Don’t try to talk, honey. It’ll make you cough again.” She waved the fireman toward the stairs. “She’s fine. I’ll get her outside.”
One of them began to break away to come to her aid, so she took her hand off Winnie’s mouth just long enough for her to start to sputter again. “See! She’s breathing fine. But it’s a mess up there.”
He joined the others, and as they stormed past, Sugar Beth dragged Winnie out onto the sidewalk, not an easy task, since Winnie was fighting mad. “You’re going to be okay now, honey,” Sugar Beth announced just loudly enough for the small group of onlookers to hear. “I’d have died myself before I left you up there to burn. And I’m no heroine, so don’t you dare thank me again.”
The EMTs rushed up and grabbed Winnie, which was a good thing, because she was starting to bite. Sugar Beth hurriedly backed away. Dulane Cowie, who looked a lot better in a cop’s uniform than he’d looked picking his nose in fourth-period study hall, rushed up to her.
“Sugar Beth? Did you carry Winnie out by yourself?”
“It’s amazing what you can do when a person’s life is at stake,” she said modestly.
Winnie had begun arguing with the EMTs, and a woman Sugar Beth recognized as an older, chubbier version of Laverne Renke waved from just behind the police line. “Hey, Sugar Beth, what happened in there?”