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Return to Virgin River (Virgin River #19)(5)

Author:Robyn Carr

“They said they suspected an electric blanket,” she informed him.

“He told me, but I find that unlikely. We never left the house to come back home without unplugging everything except the refrigerator.”

“Then I guess we’ll have to wait for their investigation to find out the cause. It’s a mess, Gerald. Not completely destroyed, but a mess. What the fire didn’t damage the water and equipment did. The fireman I talked to said someone would come back to board up the windows and make sure it was secure. I can text you a few pictures, but I wanted to talk to you first.”

“Please, Kaylee. Fire them at me. Oh, poor choice of words.”

“I’ll send them as we talk, so you can ask me any questions.” She put the phone on speaker and texted off a group of pictures from her phone.

“Good God,” he finally said in a hoarse whisper.

“The fireman said you should phone your insurance company but there’s no reason for you to rush up here.”

“Aw, honey,” he said. “Just when you think you’re moving forward, something like this—”

“Your poor house,” she said. “I know how much you love this house.”

“We loved the idea of you living in it,” he said. “Thank God it was empty when the fire started! It’ll take some time to find out the cause and cost of repairs, but I’ll be sure to let you know when I do find out. Will you just head back home now?”

“Well…not tonight. I’ve done enough driving for one day. I’m going to get a bite to eat and maybe a glass of wine, then probably find a motel. There’s that place to eat in town, I guess. Jack’s?”

“Yes, Jack’s,” Gerald said. “He’s been there about ten or twelve years now. We know him. Tell him we’re friends; ask him for any tips on good places to stay tonight. He’s a straight shooter. And he knows everyone.”

“I’ll let you know where I’ll be once I figure it out.”

* * *

Kaylee remembered Jack’s, though it looked to be much bigger than the last time she came here. It was a large two-story cabin at the center of town, tucked into a bunch of houses and maybe a park or very large yard. There was no big neon sign announcing Beer or Girls Girls Girls. If it weren’t for the five men gathered on the porch holding beer bottles and an Open sign on the door, it would’ve looked like someone’s house. There were quite a few trucks parked down the street, plus a couple of cars and SUVs. It appeared Jack’s was hopping.

She parked and walked up to the porch. It was a little intimidating until she recognized a couple of the guys on the porch as firefighters who had doffed their turnouts and now wore jeans and boots. One of them nodded at her and smiled.

“You doing okay, miss?”

“Yes, thank you. But I think I need to have a beer or something.”

“You do that. Let us know if you need help with anything. Even if it wasn’t exactly your house, it was going to be your house tonight before it caught fire.”

“Thank you, that’s very nice.”

“We have a fire-victims committee. You know—food, clothing, that sort of thing.”

“Fortunately, I hadn’t moved in yet, so I didn’t lose anything.”

“It can still be unsettling.”

She just smiled at him, thinking that was so sensitive.

One of them held the door for her and she stepped inside. And looked around.

It was almost a town in a room. A couple of elderly women sat at a table by the hearth. An entire family with five small children occupied a long table. A half-dozen men leaned against the bar at one end. Two middle-aged couples occupied a table, laughing and talking over their drinks. A table for four held women who were knitting while they nursed beers and wine. A woman was hustling from the back with a full tray of food and there were a couple of men behind the bar—one very handsome man in his late forties or early fifties with just a smattering of silver threaded into his brown hair and another man with coal-black hair, also sporting just a hint of gray.

She went to the end of the bar and sat on a stool. The handsome brown-haired guy was before her at once, wiping off the bar and slapping down a napkin.

“Evening,” he said. “What can I get you?”

“Any chance you have a nice, cold chardonnay and some peanuts?”

“I can do that,” he said.

“And is there a guy named Jack around?”

He turned back abruptly. “That would be me.”

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