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the harm in trying? Her mother might prove receptive. At the very least, it would give them something to talk about for the next six weeks.
    Her eyes drifted shut. She’d forgotten how comfortable the window seat could be. How long had it been since she’d indulged herself and spent some time in this favorite little spot? So long ago, she couldn’t remember. She sank back farther in the welcoming niche, allowing herself the rare luxury of relaxing. Such a long day, but everything had worked out. The surgery had been successful. Maybe now things would finally begin to settle down…
    And maybe someone would turn off that noise. Was it coming from outside? The screeching sound was like a shrieking alarm protruding on her daydreams. Hopefully it would stop soon. Rose sighed and snuggled deeper.
    The faint smell of smoke roused her to her feet.
    Smoke?
    That sound from below was the smoke alarm.
    Fire!
    Rose flew down the stairs and into the kitchen. Smoke filled the room, acrid and pungent, tearing her eyes and sucking the breath from her lungs. Every hair on her head felt as if it was standing on end. She threw an arm over her nose, fighting against the stench. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the scorched tea kettle forgotten on the stove.
    A hazy childhood memory of another smoke-filled room threatened… a hot summer night with the smell of cotton candy and the stink of smoke mingling in the air.
    I can’t see! I can’t see! Daddy, where are you?
    She snapped off the burner, but it took every ounce of courage she had to make a grab for the kettle. The heat was intense as her fingers connected with the black handle. She gave it a hard yank but the kettle wouldn’t budge. It was melted to the coils of the electric stove.
    Rose snatched the cordless phone from its cradle and stumbled out the door. She took deep grateful gulps of fresh air as she made the call to 911.
    The fire department was only three blocks away, but the wait seemed interminable before the welcome sound of a wailing siren was finally heard. Rose watched from the front lawn of their corner lot as the first yellow fire truck approached. It filled the side street near the driveway. A fireman clad in full turnout gear slid from the truck and ran for the back porch. Smoke seeped from the kitchen window as a second fire truck roared in behind the first. Thank God she’d gotten out in time. Stupid, stupid, stupid , leaving the burner on under the kettle and walking away, sinking into sleep. The wail of the smoke detector had prevented a needless tragedy.
    And the neighborhood gossips were already at it, fast and furious. Rose took in the gathering crowd of curious onlookers drawn by the sirens and lure of possible danger. News traveled fast in this town. Even her mother, stuck in her hospital bed, probably would know the full scoop within the hour. Rose cringed at the thought of the maternal recriminations sure to follow.
    Somewhere in the crowd a dog barked, whining and straining against his owner’s leash. The animal’s yelp brought a rush of fear surging through Rose’s heart. Bozo! Her mother’s aging Red Persian was strictly an indoor cat and still inside, trapped. Anxiously she scanned the second and third stories of their hundred-year-old house. Who knew where that damn cat could be hiding? No access through the kitchen. She gave the front porch a wary eye. There’d be less smoke—hopefully no smoke—if she went in that way. She had to try. Her mother would be frantic if anything happened to her precious Bozo. Rose swallowed down a cold taste of fear and started toward the front steps.
    “Whoa!” A strong arm yanked her away from the house. The rumble of a deep male voice held her captive. “Where do you think you’re going?”
    Rose looked up into familiar blue eyes. Dressed in full turnout gear of dirty yellow fire coat and pants with big black scuffed boots on his feet, he looked more like a battle-scarred veteran than the