short blond hair and silky tunic. Then again, Carly wouldn’t expect anything less from the former globe-trotting exec.
“How can we help, dear?” Rose shoved her wrinkled hands into the pockets of her aqua Windbreaker. “Just tell us what you need.”
“Besides food, that is,” Hillary was quick to add. “Celeste has already talked to Blakely and Taryn. They’re planning to bring you dinner.” Her daughter, Celeste Purcell, owned Granny’s Kitchen.
Carly hated that she’d added to their already hectic lives. “They don’t have to—”
“Nonsense, darling.” Hillary waved a hand through the air. “That’s what people do in Ouray. You know that.”
All too well. She’d been on the receiving end when Dennis died. Since then, she was usually the one to spearhead donations. A role she was much more comfortable with.
“There’s also a room for you at The Alps should you and Megan need a place to stay,” said Rose.
Carly felt her knees go weak. In the chaos, she’d forgotten all about Megan. What kind of mother did that? How would her daughter react? Would she be scared? Sad?
Andrew moved behind her then. Placed his warm, strong hands on her shoulders. “Thank you, Rose, but that won’t be necessary. Carly and Megan can stay in my grandmother’s house if need be.”
Hillary’s gaze zeroed in on Andrew. “Do I know you?”
Andrew shook his head. “I don’t believe so.” He extended his hand. “Andrew Stephens.”
The woman Carly suspected to be somewhere around sixty cautiously accepted the offer. “Hillary Ward-Thompson.” She let go, still scrutinizing Andrew. “You wouldn’t be related to Clint Stephens, by any chance?”
“Yes, ma’am. He’s my father.”
Hillary’s espresso eyes widened for a split second. “You favor him a great deal.”
“So I’ve been told.” Seemingly distracted, Andrew shot a glance toward the house before peering down at Carly. “It looks like the chief might be ready to talk with you.”
“We won’t keep you, dear.” Rose’s smile was a sad one as she moved forward for another hug. “I’ll touch base with you later. Until then—” she let go “—you’re in my prayers.” Turning to leave, she patted Andrew on the arm. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Thanks, Rose. So am I.”
Carly was glad, too. Without him, she’d be curled up in a corner somewhere, bawling like a baby, clueless about what to do or where to turn. But why was he glad?
As the two women continued down the sidewalk, Ouray’s fire chief, Mike Christianson, approached. “Good to see you again, Andrew.” The two men briefly shook hands.
“You, too, Mike. I just wish it were under better circumstances.”
Carly swallowed hard as her former schoolmate turned his attention to her. Now married with three kids, Mike was a good guy. She knew he wouldn’t sugarcoat anything. Though the harsh reality was what she feared the most.
His features softened as his weary green eyes met hers. “The good news is that the fire never made it to the second floor.”
Her shoulders relaxed. That meant her guest rooms were okay. But what about her and Megan’s rooms on the first floor? The kitchen, parlor and family room?
“Most of the damage was confined to the kitchen and family room.”
“How bad?” She absently rubbed her arms.
He hesitated, his gaze momentarily falling to the ground before bouncing back to hers. “I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to stay here for a while, let alone host any guests. Kitchen is a complete loss.”
So far, Carly had managed to keep her nausea in check. Right about now, though, she was quickly losing that battle. She didn’t know which was worse—not being able to stay at Granger House or not hosting any guests. No guests meant no income, but to have her home taken from her...
Where was that oxygen mask?
As though sensing she needed help, Andrew slipped his arm around her while he addressed Mike. “Do you know what caused the fire?”
Mike nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line. “As most often happens, it was a cooking fire.”
Confused, Carly shook her head. “Cooking? But I wasn’t—Oh, no.” She felt her eyes widen. Stumbled backward, but Andrew held her tight. Her hand flew to her mouth, horror flooding her veins. “The chicken.” The earth swirled beneath her. Sweat gathered on her upper lip. “I forgot.” She looked at Mike without really seeing him. “And I went to the bank.”
A churning vortex of emotions whirled inside her. A feeling she’d experienced only one other time in her life. The night she learned that Dennis had died. And just like that time, this was all her fault, and poor Megan would be the one paying the price for Carly’s mistake.
* * *
Andrew recognized the self-reproach that settled over Carly the moment she learned the cause of the fire. He was all too familiar with the hefty weight of guilt. He’d carried it for the last two years, since the day he’d given work a higher priority than his dying mother. When he’d finally made it to her bedside, it was too late. He never got to say goodbye or tell her how much he loved her.
He shook off the shame as the fire trucks pulled away. He had to do everything he could to help Carly. He could never turn his back on her. Especially now.
Still standing in his grandmother’s front yard, he eyed his watch. School would be letting out soon. And if Megan came walking up here, unaware of what had happened, Carly would blame herself even more.
He wasn’t about to let that happen. “What do you say we go meet Megan?”
Carly’s deep breath sent a shudder through her. “I guess that would be best. Give me an opportunity to prepare her before she sees the house.”
As they walked in the direction of the school, the extent of Carly’s nervousness became clearer. The constant zip, zip, zip sound as she fiddled with the zipper on her jacket was enough to drive anyone crazy.
Still a block away from the school, he touched a hand to her elbow to stop her. “Anything you care to discuss?”
Her blue eyes were swimming with unshed tears as she peered up at him, her bottom lip quivering. “What am I going to say to her? I mean, what if she hates me?”
Seeing her pain made him long to pull her into his arms. “Hates you? Why would Megan hate you?”
“Because the fire was my fault.” She crossed her arms over her chest and held on tightly. “Because of me, my daughter won’t be able to sleep in her own bed tonight. Won’t be able—”
“Now hold on a minute.” Using their height difference to his advantage, he glared down at her. “It’s not like you meant to start that fire. Being absentminded one time does not make you a bad mom.” Softening his tone, he reached for her good hand. “Instead of focusing on the bad, play up the good. She’s nine years old. Kids that age love sleepovers, don’t they? Tell her she gets to have an extended sleepover at my grandmother’s.”
Lifting only her eyes, she sent him a skeptical look. “That’s the only good thing you could come up with?”
It did sound kind of lame. “Well, I haven’t seen the extent of the damage yet, but it sounds like you might be getting a new kitchen, too.”
“Like Megan’s going to be impressed with that.” She started walking again, shoving her hands into her pockets. “I’m just going to have to trust God to give me the words.”
When they met Megan at the school, she was her typical exuberant