She nodded.
Focus drifting back to her, I confirmed. “Nothing anywhere else?”
“No.”
I dug my phone from my pocket and dialed the fire department, who may have already been on their way.
“Marty it’s Josh Lawrence. Yes. I’m at the house. Just the oven. No need to send a truck out. Yes, I’ll make sure to turn off the gas. Thank you.”
Head down, I hit the End button, then stashed my phone again. When I looked up, I was met by four curious faces.
“Could you hear the alarm all the way from your house?” Celine asked.
“Got an alert on my phone,” I explained. “Security system.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re spying on us?”
I’d been prepared to stumble in on chaos. I’d braced for screaming, crying, or even smoke inhalation. Being accused of espionage came as a surprise.
“No. Not spying,” I said gently. “I have systems and cameras installed all over the property. I’m happy to set up an account for you. That way you can have your own passwords and adjust settings so you’re the one with access to the house.”
Her expression remained stony, her mouth turned down in a frown.
Damn. What the hell had I done wrong?
“The system is set up for fires and break-ins,” I added, my voice flattening with frustration. “Not… whatever itis you think I’m doing. Smoke alarm went off. I was worried.” A sigh slipped out. How is it that I’d found myself having to justify my presence in a house I built and owned, on my fucking land? And that was before the annoyance that had begun to seep into me when I realized there was no danger. I kept that to myself.
“We’re fine,” the tallest child said, though her tone belied that sentiment. It sounded more like she was on the verge of calling the police on me.
“Are you?” I responded, genuinely curious, if not inconvenienced.
Celine placed the fire extinguisher on the table and shuffled to her kids.
“Guys,” she said, “Mr. Lawrence is our landlord. Let’s use our manners. Okay?”
The little boy skirted around her, hiding behind her legs.
“You’ve met Julian,” she said as he wrapped his arms around her hips. “This is my daughter Ellie.” She draped an arm over her the older girl’s shoulders. “Only twelve and already taller than me.”
The girl inspected me with the kind of scrutiny that gave me the sense she’d have a future in law enforcement. She was tall and lanky with short, choppy strawberry blond hair.
“And this is Maggie,” she said, dipping her chin at the other girl.
“Nice to meet you.” Maggie, the younger girl with blond hair, stuck out a hand.
Taken aback by her formality, I took it and returned her firm handshake.
She pushed her glasses up her nose and smiled. “Do you have horses? Can I meet them? Can I ride them?”
“Um—”
“Or goats? Mini goats? Do goats have jobs? Could I train one and take it to school with me?”
“Maggie.” Celine sighed. “This isn’t the time.” She dropped her arm from her oldest daughter’s shoulders and stepped toward the kitchen, the little boy moving with her. “Sorry. I turned the oven on to preheat, and when I opened it, black smoke filled the kitchen.”
“Julian tried to cook his Legos,” Maggie announced, as if it were a completely normal culinary experiment.
That’s when the smell clicked. Melted plastic. Huh.
