Page 33 of Rising Heat

I hear my dad’s muffled voice sounds somewhere in the background.

“They’re two brothers,” my mother says, clearly covering the phone with her hand and accomplishing absolutely nothing.

“Brothers?” Dad asks.

“They own the house.”

“That’s excellent.”

My mother sounds offended.

“Why is that excellent?”

“Because if her car won’t start, she’s got two people downstairs.”

I blink.

Well. That hadn’t occurred to me.

“Exactly,” Dad continues. “Pipe bursts. Lock sticks. Snowstorm. Whatever. She’s not alone in the building.”

My mother makes a noise that somehow communicates both disagreement and reluctant acknowledgment.

“You don’t even know them.”

“They’re also firefighters,” I say.

“Firefighters?” Dad repeats. “See?”

“See what?” Mom shoots back.

“That’s wonderful”

I have no idea why my father sounds so pleased about this development.

“Dan.”

“I’m just saying, I’ll sleep better knowing she has two firefighters there if she needs anything.”

I giggle at the familiar sound of them bickering.

“Darcy?”

My mother’s voice softens just slightly.

“Yeah?”

Another pause.

“I am glad you’re settling in.”

It’s probably the closest she’s going to get to saying she understands.

For now, it’s enough.

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Call us if you need anything.”