Summer at the Shore (Seashell Bay Book 2) Page 17

“Ryan, go get Holly,” Morgan said, giving him a little push. “I’ve got this.”

  The steel in her voice told Ryan she did. He flew down the staircase, barely touching the steps, and raced through the kitchen into the annex to Morgan’s bedroom. The door was open, and Holly was sitting on the edge of the four-poster bed, looking slender and frail in her thin nightgown. Sabrina was trying to maneuver the wheelchair into a position where Holly could slide off the bed into it.

  “I’ve got her, Sabrina,” Ryan said, reaching for Holly. “Just bring the wheelchair, okay?”

  He had to give Morgan’s sister props. Instead of coming upstairs to see what the commotion was all about, she’d wisely decided to get Holly safely out of the house.

  “What’s happening up there?” Sabrina’s eyes darted back and forth between him and Holly. She was wearing a navy T-shirt and white sleep shorts plastered with little red hearts, and she looked scared to death.

  Ryan scooped Holly up in his arms. Though she was tall, her slender frame carried no more than a hundred twenty-five pounds, and Ryan barely felt her weight. “There’s a fire in the attic and a lot of smoke upstairs. Morgan’s called the fire department.”

  Holly gasped. “How did it start?”

  “Maybe the wiring. It’s old.” Ryan angled her through the narrow door, across the kitchen, and out into the graveled parking area. Sabrina followed close behind, squeezing the wheelchair out the screen door.

  As Ryan gently lowered Holly into the chair, Sabrina groaned. “Oh my God. Look at the smoke coming out that upstairs window.”

  Ryan glanced up. Smoke was billowing out the second-floor window at the end of the hallway. His insides torqued as he thought of Morgan up there trying to wrangle the guests all by herself. “Sabrina, I’m going back inside. Stay with Holly, okay?”

  “Hurry!” Sabrina said tearfully. “Please don’t let anything happen to Morgan.”

  Ryan told himself that Morgan was strong and smart and brave, so she’d be fine. Maudie and Morry Granger, however, were a different story. They were in their late seventies, and Morry was seriously overweight and arthritic while Maudie suffered from balance problems that had been giving her on-and-off trouble walking, even with her cane.

  “The Bairstows are out!” Sabrina said, pointing a finger toward the front of the house. Pugnacious Frank and his wife Maureen had emerged and were hurrying around the side of the house toward them.

  “Two guests down, four to go,” Ryan growled. He rushed back in through the same door.

  Only a couple of minutes had passed since Ryan barged into Morgan’s room and scared her half to death, but she needed to get the Grangers outside before they collapsed from smoke inhalation. The Bairstows had already gone down to safety, and the gay married couple from Toronto—Owen and Nolan—had emerged from their room a second time, now dressed in T-shirts and sweat pants and clutching computers under their arms. Morgan knew those two fit thirtysomethings could take care of themselves, so she focused her full attention on the older couple.

  Outside the Grangers’ room, the closest one to the attic hatch, the smoke was so heavy and acrid that Maudie was choking as Morgan slipped her arm around the elderly woman’s waist. Morry struggled to support his wife on the opposite side. Morgan wished she were strong enough to lift Maudie in a fireman’s carry and lug her to safety, but the woman weighed at least fifty pounds more than she did. Morry was in no shape to help much either, though he was trying mightily to do as Morgan directed.

  Even in the chaos of the smoke, the heat, and Maudie’s gasping behind her husband’s handkerchief, Morgan couldn’t stop thinking about how this disaster could have happened. Maybe it was the ancient wiring Ryan had warned her about. In any case, the fire was on her. Her obsession with getting things done on the cheap had probably caused this catastrophe.

  She gave herself a mental slap. There would be time for self-recrimination later. The fire chief would be able to tell her what caused the blaze, and in the end, it didn’t much matter what started it anyway. All that truly mattered was getting people out alive.

  But she wanted to burst into tears that her father’s beloved inn was probably entering its death throes.

  “Morry, get my purse,” Maudie cried as Morgan and her husband shuffled her toward the stairs. “It’s on the dresser.”

  “No way,” Morry grunted. His bald head was streaming sweat. “The damn roof could fall down on us any second. To hell with the purse, Maudie. You’re all that counts. Everything else can be replaced.”

  Maudie managed a smile at her husband. “Thank you, dear heart.”

  Morgan felt like she was in a walking nightmare, with her heart racing and her airways already burning from smoke. But her sick feeling was eased by the moment of tenderness between the Grangers. Morry might be an out-of-shape, grumpy old guy, but he was a hero in Morgan’s book.

  By the time they reached the second step down, Ryan was already bounding up the stairs, three at a time. The smoke was thick enough that Morgan thought he might barrel into her before he grabbed the banister and jerked to a stop.

  “Ma’am, can I carry you down?” Ryan had obviously assessed the situation instantly. “It’ll be a lot faster that way and safer too.”

  “Yes, yes. Take her, Ryan,” Morry said, coughing. “Get her out of here.”

  Ryan carefully eased Maudie over his shoulder, clutching her thighs after making sure her flannel nightgown was pulled down past her knees. All Morgan could feel at that moment was overwhelming relief that Ryan was here. Holly and Sabrina must be safe, and now he was making sure the Grangers would get out too. The inn might wind up burning to the ground, but Ryan had saved them all.

  What am I going to do without him?

  She shoved that desperate thought aside, summoning up all her energy as she put her arm back around Morry’s waist.

  He surprised her by pushing away. “I’m fine, Morgan. I can do this.”

  Morgan wasn’t so sure. She stuck close to him, her hand gripping his arm as they descended together. By the time they made it three more steps down, Ryan and Maudie had already disappeared out the wide-open front door. Morgan could barely see with her stinging, watery eyes, and Morry coughed and hacked every step of the way until they were finally outside. With Ryan’s help, he slowly folded himself down onto the grass right next to Maudie, where he put his fleshy arm around her shoulders and hugged her close.

  Blinking her eyes clear, Morgan rushed over to Holly, who was clutching the arms of her wheelchair with white fingers. Sabrina was rigid beside her as she stared up at the house with a look of abject horror on her ashen face. When Morgan followed her sister’s gaze, her stomach dived at the sight of huge billows of black smoke pouring out the gable vents on either end of the house. Though the fire hadn’t yet burned through the attic floor when she was inside, Morgan knew it might not be long before flames penetrated down and set the entire old structure ablaze.

  Tears streamed down Sabrina’s cheeks. “This can’t be happening, Morgan. Not after Daddy. Not after everything we’ve gone through.”

  Morgan hugged her sister. “We’re going to be okay, sweetie. We’re together, and that’s all that really matters.”

  On the other side, Holly grabbed Morgan’s hand and squeezed. “At least everyone’s safe,” she said. “And Sabrina was a real hero, helping Ryan get me out.”

  Morgan smiled at her friend, blinking back tears as she held on to her sister.

  While Sabrina would have been able to help Holly to safety, and she and Morry might have been able to get Maudie out in time, Morgan knew it would have been a very close thing. That was brutally, sickeningly clear to her, especially now as she looked again at the volume of black smoke pouring out of the house. “I’m just thankful Ryan was here. I don’t know what we would have done without him.”

  She clamped down hard on semi-hysterical tears. She would not lose it in front of Holly or her guests, or her poor sister. People would be counting on her t
o cope, to take care of them, to find them somewhere to go. She had to turn her mind to that and fast, even as she struggled to comprehend the enormity of what was happening to the inn. The Grangers would be all right. Morry’s cousin, Andrew, could take them in temporarily at his house near Paradise Point. But vacationers like Owen and Nolan and the Bairstows had nowhere to go at this hour. Morgan would have to ensure they had somewhere to sleep, at least for tonight.

  Ryan came up and pulled both Morgan and Sabrina into a sheltering embrace. “You guys did great.”

  “Thanks. You too,” Sabrina said. She moved away to stare again at the inn.

  Morgan let herself melt into the warmth of Ryan’s body, resting her head against his muscular shoulder for a brief moment before she realized that Holly had started to shiver. Maudie also had her arms wrapped tightly around herself, obviously cold too. “I’m going back into the annex for some blankets,” she said. “People are cold.”

  “Like hell you are,” Ryan said in a low rumble. “I’ll go. Where are they?”

  Hearing the steel in his voice, Morgan knew it was pointless to argue. “In the linen closet across from Sabrina’s room. Bring everything you can.”

  “You got it.” Ryan sprinted across the lot and into the annex through the kitchen door.

  The fire trucks arrived a minute later, lights flashing. The ladder truck was first, followed by the engine, and at the rear of the parade came Fire Chief Frank Laughlin in his department’s SUV. Josh Bryson was the first man out of the ladder truck, and Morgan raced over to him. “Everyone’s out, Josh, so don’t worry about that. It looks like the fire started in the attic.”

  “You’re a hundred percent sure everyone’s out?” Josh said. “And you’re okay?”

  “A hundred and ten percent sure,” Morgan answered. “We have six paying guests, plus Holly and Ryan. Sabrina’s out too. All fine, I think, though Jessie should check those two over.” She pointed to Maudie and Morry. “They’re not very healthy to begin with.”

  Josh made a gesture to Jessie, one of the EMTs, as Laughlin strode over, his radio microphone in his hand.

  “Morgan says it’s clear, Chief,” Josh said.

  “Good. Do you know if the fire is still confined to the attic?” he said to Morgan.

  “It was when I got out a few minutes ago. That’s all I can tell you.”

  Laughlin nodded. “We’re going to try attacking the fire through the gable ends. That looks like the best chance to minimize the damage to the interior.”

  Minimize the damage.

  The words slashed through Morgan like a dozen spinning blades. She wasn’t dumb enough to think the damage would be anything less than horrific, not when the firefighters were going to flood the attic with water from their high-pressure hoses. Much of the house and furniture would be a sodden shambles, even if everything wasn’t destroyed by fire and smoke. The only question in her mind was whether or not the structure itself could be saved.

  She watched a pair of firefighters power through the front door. Others maneuvered the ladder truck into place at the chief’s direction, raising the ladder toward the gable end at the front of the house. Though the Seashell Bay firefighters were volunteers, except for the chief, Morgan had total confidence in their skill and dedication. She’d grown up with most of them and knew they were all really good guys who would do their utmost to save Golden Sunset.

  She could only pray for their success because the inn’s insurance coverage was pretty bad. Though it would cover some of the costs, she’d have to absorb a big loss thanks to her poor dad’s misguided attempt to save money with the crappy policy he’d signed shortly before his death.

  But at the end of the day, who was she to criticize? Dad had done his best, and it wasn’t on his watch that a houseful of guests had almost been killed in a fire that probably could have been prevented.

  That was all on her.

  Chapter 17

  Ryan stared up at the ceiling fan that rotated lazily above him. It had been daylight for hours already, and he’d heard his father leave for his mooring before six. He’d risen and quietly made himself a cup of coffee while his mom remained in bed, then he’d showered, dressed, and lain back down again on his bed. He couldn’t think of a damn thing except Morgan and the B&B.

  But there wasn’t much he could do until nine o’clock. That was when he and Morgan had agreed to meet back at Golden Sunset. He didn’t even feel like taking his usual morning run. All he wanted to do now was to focus on what the hell he could do to help her deal with this catastrophe.

  Growing up in this house, Ryan hadn’t experienced many sleepless nights, conking out like most kids for nine or ten hours. Only when he joined the army and was shipped overseas did he find out what sleepless nights truly meant—senses tuned to every noise, every smell, every movement around him, even a slight breeze or a faint rustle.

  Last night had been a little like that, lying awake in his creaky old bed and endlessly going over the horrifying events of the night. He’d felt so freaking helpless as he’d watched the fire crew working to keep the house from being reduced to a smoldering heap of ash. Watching a tight-lipped Morgan comfort her sobbing sister and the distraught guests, he’d wanted to comfort her, but she’d flung up some pretty impressive emotional barriers as she dealt with the aftermath. She needed to stay in control, and he sensed that she’d break down if he came on too strong.

  But he was incredibly proud of her. In the midst of the chaotic scene, she’d pulled out her cell phone and arranged for the Bairstows to stay with Miss Annie and Roy, and the two guys from Canada to go to Mike O’Hanlon’s. She’d called Morry Granger’s cousin, and he’d arrived in his robe within ten minutes to scoop up Morry and Maudie. Finally, she’d talked to Lily, who immediately offered her guest room for Morgan and Sabrina to share. Holly had called her aunts, and Florence had soon picked her up too.

  A lot of islanders had been woken last night, and every one of them had come through.

  Ryan was lucky not to have to worry about where he would go. In Seashell Bay, he always had a room waiting and parents who would do anything for him. He only wished Morgan and Sabrina were as fortunate. But they no longer had any family on the island, and Morgan wouldn’t want to keep imposing on Lily. She wouldn’t have much choice though, unless she gave up on Golden Sunset and headed back to Pickle River with Sabrina in tow.

  He just hoped the fire wasn’t the thing that finally forced her hand, because that would emotionally trash her. And he sure hoped that the insurance would cover most of the damage. If she got a big enough settlement, then the islanders would do what they could to help Morgan and Sabrina get back on their feet.

  There was going to be a hell of a lot of work to do, but Ryan was certain of one thing—whatever help was needed, he was going to be here to make sure Morgan got it.

  Morgan could hardly breathe much less speak. She stared up the oak staircase toward the second floor, still cordoned off by fire department tape. The choking smell of smoke, combined with her sense of horror, threatened to knock her to the ground. Only the fact that Ryan stood quietly behind her, one hand resting solidly against the base of her spine, kept her on her feet.

  Fire Chief Laughlin had given her the good news/bad news report this morning. The fire had definitely resulted from an electrical malfunction in the attic, a fairly common problem in attics where old wiring was involved. The firefighters had managed to keep most of the fire contained at the top of the structure, so even though the roof was compromised and the attic storeroom gutted, the damage to the living areas was largely due to smoke and water, not fire. Still, out of caution that sections of the attic floor could collapse, Laughlin had barred anyone other than firefighters from going upstairs until a full assessment could be made.

  “We need to get a restoration company in here right away,” Ryan said. “The quicker they deal with the smoke and especially the water, the less likely we are to have long-term problems like mold.”

>   We.

  Just that one word gave her heart a tiny lift.

  She turned around to face him. “You’re thinking Servpro?”

  “Yeah. Or we could try a smaller outfit my dad said we might want to check out.”

  “Smaller as is in cheaper?”

  Ryan nodded. “I’d think so. I’ll make the calls if you want and get some cost estimates. And I’ll be happy to deal with getting the restoration work going.”

  Morgan stared into his calm, handsome face, her heart twisting with a killer combination of gratitude and love. The man exuded competence and unflinching support, something she desperately needed right now, especially given Sabrina’s current state.

  Her sister was a wreck. She’d been pretty solid last night until the firefighters dumped God-only-knew how many gallons of water on the house and it became clear that the damage was going to be devastating. By the time Morgan got her over to Lily’s house, Sabrina was going into a full-scale emotional meltdown. It had taken Morgan and Lily over an hour to calm her down and get her into bed. Fortunately, she was still sleeping when Morgan had left to come over to Golden Sunset this morning.

  Though Morgan felt like her world was coming apart too, having Ryan beside her gave her both comfort and hope. Despite getting as little sleep as the rest of them, he looked ready to tackle any problem in his black T-shirt, faded jeans, and scuffed work boots.

  Still . . .

  “Ryan, I can’t ask you to do that,” she said. “It’s not your responsibility.”

  His gaze went narrow and intense. Combined with his beard stubble—he obviously hadn’t shaved this morning—it made him look a little dangerous and a whole lot sexy.

  “We’re not gonna get in a tussle over this, babe,” he said. “I’m doing it.”

  Morgan pressed her hands together over her stomach. She so needed his help, so wanted to give in. But it truly wasn’t his problem, and she shouldn’t make the mistake of getting too dependent on him.

  His gaze softened, and he reached up a hand, cradling her cheek. “Morgan, just say yes.”