classes, so Finn recognized the symptoms of shock: trembling, cool yet clammy skin, bluish fingernails and lips.
“Here’s your phone,” she said. “Would you like me to call her for you?”
Rowdy draped a tablecloth over the man’s shoulders as the red-and-blue strobes of emergency vehicles whirled around the diner’s interior. A moment later, the place filled with first responders.
A burly firefighter approached. “What’s up?” he asked Finn.
She described the man’s symptoms.
“Good job. Thanks. Everybody else okay?”
She looked toward the out-of-town guests huddled in the opposite corner. “Yes, scared, but everyone’s all right.”
He squatted and signaled the nearest paramedic.
“Okay if I get those people into the back room?” she asked, pointing to the rest of her diners.
“Bob!” he bellowed. “Okay if these folks head to the back?” In a softer voice, he told Finn, “He’s just checking for structural damage. Wouldn’t want the ceiling to cave in on you.”
Bob moved closer. “Things look okay out here.” Using his ballpoint as a pointer, he asked, “Gas stove back there?”
“Yes...”
“Just let me make sure the connections are intact and there are no leaks before anybody goes anywhere.”
After poking and prodding, he gave the thumbs-up sign, and Finn waved her customers closer.
“Let’s get some dessert into you,” she said, guiding them to the big stainless table in the storeroom. “What’s your pleasure? Cake? Ice cream? Pie?”
“That’s very kind of you,” a young woman said, “but my husband and I would rather get back to our hotel.”
Members of the other family agreed. “Thanks for the offer, though,” the dad said. “Hope you’ll be back in business soon. We’ve enjoyed all our meals here.”
A cop approached and suggested they leave through the back door. Finn rounded up a few of the umbrellas left behind by former diners and passed them out.
“Sorry for the disturbance,” she said, grinning as they departed.
“Wasn’t your fault,” the mom said.
“Guess even the mighty oak has its limits,” the young woman’s husband said.
“You might want to round up some plywood,” the cop suggested. “And call your insurance agent.”
Finn exhaled a shaky sigh. He was right.
“A city inspector will come by in the next day or two, let you know what he thinks needs to be fixed.” He handed her a business card. “If you get Rick Martin, tell him I said hello.”
Frank Martin, the card said.
“He’s my brother. A real straight arrow. He won’t make reopening any harder than it has to be.”
Finn pocketed the card. “Thanks, Officer Martin.”
An hour later, the engine of a tow truck churned as it dragged the tree from the diner. One by one, the emergency vehicles drove off, leaving Finn and the staff to contemplate their next steps. They came together in a group hug.
“We’re all safe,” she told them. “That’s the most important thing. Once we clean up this mess, things will look a lot better.”
“She’s right,” Rowdy said. “So let’s get crackin’.” He disengaged from the huddle and meted out assignments. “Bean, grab a broom. Jimmy, you get the dustpan. Ciara, you bring the trash can over here so—”
“No, I think you should all go home. Get some rest, and we’ll talk about who does what tomorrow, okay?”
One by one, they agreed.
“I’ll go upstairs,” Ciara offered. “And make us—make us some tea. That always calms you down.”
“That’s a great idea.” Finn hugged her tight. “But don’t make mine just yet. I need to call our insurance agent.”
“You won’t be too long, will you?”
She checked her watch. “I hope not, but if I’m not there by ten, you go ahead and get into bed, okay?”
Ciara popped a noisy kiss to Finn’s cheek. “Okay. Love you, big sister!”
“Love you more!”
It was a game they’d played for years. Ciara had no way of knowing how much Finn meant every word.
When Ciara was gone, Rowdy asked, “What can I do for you, kiddo?”
“You can go home and put your feet up. Something tells me there will be plenty for you to do tomorrow.”
“No way I’m leaving you here alone with that gaping hole in the wall. Anyone with a mind to raid the cash box could just waltz right in and—”
Sam entered, as if summoned by a fairy godmother.
“Holy debris, Batman,” he said. “What happened in here?”
After Rowdy brought him up to speed, Sam got on his phone and, pacing, spoke quietly into the mouthpiece.
“Mark and the guys will be here in a few minutes,” he said, hanging up. “They’ll bring everything we need to close up this wall.”
Glass crunched under his boots as he paced, checking out the damage.
“We?”
Sam stopped walking and turned to face her. Finn blamed the events of the past hour—and not his caring expression—for her accelerated heartbeat.
“Of course we.” He gestured toward the gap. “Not even a superwoman like you can fix this all by yourself.”
“Superwoman, indeed,” she huffed. But he was right, of course, and rather than admit it, Finn said, “I’m surprised you heard the sirens over your blaring music.”
He grinned, and her heart thumped harder still.
“I’ll have you know,” Sam said, cocking an eyebrow, “we do not blare. We merely test the limits of the noise code. Things were slow tonight, and I heard the alert on my cell. Recognized the address and came right over.”
Finn was suddenly thirsty. Very thirsty. She went into the kitchen and fetched two bottles of water from the walk-in cooler. “So you’re still in the loop with the fire department?” she asked, handing one to him.
“Thanks.” He unscrewed the cap. “And yeah, I guess you could say that.”
She held out the second bottle to Rowdy, but he declined it. “Sounds like you’re pretty well set, here. If it’s okay, I think I’ll take you up on your offer to head home early.”
“Feel free to sleep in,” she told him. “There’s no point in going to the farmer’s market at the crack of dawn.”
The big man gave her a sideways hug. “Y’know, I might just do that...if I remember how to sleep past four!”
The place fell silent, save for the drip-drip-drip of rain plopping into the puddles just outside the broken window.
“I’ve seen a lot of destruction,” Sam said. “This looks way worse than it is. It’ll take some time, but you’ll be back in business before you know it.”
“And we’ll help,” Torry said, leading the parade of band members, each toting a four-by-eight-foot sheet of plywood.
“This stuff was left over from when we redid the bathrooms,” Mark said. “So don’t look at me like that. You’re doing us a favor, getting it out of the way.”