“Tell me your full name and age,” I command.
“Catalina Dupont,” she whimpers so inaudibly that I have to ask her to repeat herself. Her voice comes out stronger the second time, and her face looks slightly less pinched.
“And Ms. Dupont is your grandmother?”
“Yes, and I live here as a part-time caretaker.”
The last information puts warmth in my chest. In high school and part of college, I lived with my great-grandfather, helping to care for him. Funny what you can have in common with someone you didn’t even know existed a half hour ago. “And Dumpling?”
“Scrambled right back down the tree like it was nothing. She never needed saving at all.”
The heat of the midday sun beats down on me, and I run the back of my hand over my forehead. Removing my jacket, I watch Grandma’s eyes hungrily go to my navy blue button-down department shirt, which fits like a glove.
Catalina’s don’t.
Either she really needs her glasses, or she’s not impressed. That would be a first. Not sure how I feel about that.
Addressing Grandma, I ask, “Do you have a ladder handy I could use?”
“Oh, yes, there’s one in the garage.”
“Catalina, hang tight. I’ll be right back.”
“Do I have any other options?” she murmurs. I like this girl. Not only is she stunning as fuck, but she doesn’t take crap from anyone.
In the garage, I find a ten-foot metal ladder, a two-by-four, stakes, some rope, and a mallet.
Ms. Dupont reminisces, “This was my beloved husband’s. But it’s been years since anyone used it. Glad it’s finally coming in handy.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“And who are you again?” she asks, suddenly looking a little shaky.
“The firefighter rescuing your granddaughter.”
“Firefighter?” she knits her brows. “Is there a fire somewhere?”
“No, ma’am. Just your granddaughter stuck in the tree she climbed to rescue Dumpling.”
She looks puzzled for a moment, wringing her hands in front of her. Then, she laughs. “Oh, yes, you’re right.”
I assess her visually for signs of distress. Her cheeks glow from the heat, my best guess for what triggered her sudden forgetfulness. “Why don’t you go back inside, cool off, and drink some water? I’ll have Cat down in a flash. I promise.”
She hesitates, then smiles, turning and reaching for the door that leads into the house. “What a nice boy.”
Back outside, I set the ladder against the tree, securing the base with the two-by-four and stakes. It’s not going anywhere.
Catalina eyes me warily.
“We’ve got two options,” I tell her. “Call in the ladder engine and turn this into a full-blown rescue … or let me do it the old-fashioned way.”
“No ladder engine,” she pleads. “Next thing I know, this’ll be front-page news.”
“Welcome to my world,” I half-bark, half-laugh.
“What do you expect in such a visible line of work?” she asks.
Visible line of work? Dammit! She does recognize me.
