Page 66 of Dreams and Reptiles

FIFTEEN

Francis

The romance writers were an absolute delight. They’d spent the afternoon writing, spread out between the meeting room in the guest wing and the pool yard. Most of them had headphones on and were completely focused. A smaller group sat on the sectional in the living room, brainstorming with each other on ideas to fix their plots. Mom, Auntie Judy, and I tried not to be obvious, but we were having a blast eavesdropping on their unhinged storylines.

“Okay, but the pregnant woman has amnesia, so how far along is she? If she’s not that far along, would she even know?”

“I need to finish my giraffe shifter omegaverse mpreg series next. I’m thinking about having it end up on a transport to space.”

“I’ve got my latest novel on submission. It’s about a serial killer who falls in love with his stalker. It’s Silence of the Lambs meets Misery. Like, what if Clarice kidnapped Hannibal Lecter and made him tell her all his secrets, but he secretly loves being controlled. It’s classic grumpy/sunshine with a small-town, only-one-bed vibe.”

“Francis, you need to get all their pen names so I can look up these books. I think I need to read more romance.”

“On it,” I said, giving Mom a fist bump.

“I hope Kendall and his friends are safe tonight,” Auntie Judy said with a frown. “At least it doesn’t seem like too many people do the illegal fireworks here. It was always so awful back home.”

“You’re right. I recall driving home from Oakland one year, and there were huge explosions on both sides of 880-S as we drove. You’d think they’d put an end to it, but people find a way to get those illegal fireworks.”

We’d heard a few big booms, but it hadn’t been too bad. Derek made sure I got the best fire insurance possible, which had cost a fortune, but he reminded me how bad the fires had been that year. Some people couldn’t even get insured in certain areas. In California, it seemed, either earthquakes or fire were gonna get us, so all we could do was take precautions where possible. I was glad I’d had luck finding great landscapers. They’d taken care to prepare the entire property with plenty of defensible space around the house, and the orchards were far enough away that they didn’t pose a threat to any structures.

Mom and Auntie Judy headed back to their house around nine, and I went into my office to do a little work. By eleven, the authors were still howling with laughter in the great room. I thought perhaps I needed to make some guidelines about the usage of the main house in the future—like, get your asses back to the guest house by ten?

I wasn’t worried about nosy guests. I’d had keypad locks put on my office and all four of the bedrooms in the main house, so I wouldn’t have to worry and for the privacy of other guests staying in the house. The authors were so cool, I worried they might have ruined me for all future guests. I wanted to be a good host, and I was grateful my first retreat was going so well. I went back out to the kitchen and a few of them were looking in the fridge.

“Oh, hey, Francis. We were wondering if you had any more of that yummy cider from earlier.”

“Girl, do I. Follow me.”

I led them to the second fridge in the laundry room, where I kept extra beverages for this express purpose, and they oohed and aahed at the selections. That led to me getting out the popcorn maker. I sat and gabbed and snacked with the three who’d remained until well after midnight, and when they realized how late it was, they took more ciders with them and headed back to the guest house. I used my phone to set the alarms once they were inside. They could still come and go without setting it off, but at least this way the monitoring company would be paying attention.

I made the rounds, picking up the little trash they’d left behind. The group had done a great job cleaning up after themselves. I pulled out the garbage bags and put them by the back door to go out the next morning and turned off the lights.

I climbed the stairs to my room with a smile on my face. The first day had been a smashing success. It was so easy being the host and hearing them get so excited about their craft was exhilarating.

I was absolutely in the right place, doing the right thing. Who knew? Maybe one of them would write a bestselling novel at my retreat and tell all their friends?

I was chuckling to myself as I walked by the slider in my bedroom—but light where there shouldn’t be light stopped me in my tracks.

“Oh God.”

On the far side of Kendall’s property, there was a streak of bright orange near the highway.

Fire.

I pulled my phone out and called 9-1-1.

“Yes, I’m calling from 500 Lakeshore Road, and there’s a fire on the side of Lake Road. I can see it coming down toward Kendall Warren’s place. I can’t see how big it is.”

“Thank you, sir,” the operator said, her voice smooth and steady. “We’ve already received reports. FBFD has been dispatched.”

“Someone already called? Okay, thank you.”

I disconnected and went out onto my balcony. The smell of smoke hit me in the face. Thank God the lake was between us and the fire, but Kendall’s house was in its path.

So were the animals.

I called Mom.