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The Firefighter's Thanksgiving Wish

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“I’ve called the mayor of Durante,” Gil continued. “Asked if they could spare a few firefighters while the two of you recoup. They should already be at the station. Ozzy’ll help them settle in.”

“Great.” Roman couldn’t shake the feeling there was more to Gil’s visit than this welcomed update.

Gil looked between the two of them, confirming Roman’s suspicion. “I’m also planning on presenting an amendment to how the department is structured.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve given it a lot of thought, and having co-chiefs, of equal rank and experience, makes the most sense. You know.” He shrugged. “In case you want to stay within regulations when it comes to fraternizing.”

“Co-chiefs?” Frankie angled a suspicious look at him. “Meaning you’re giving me the promotion after all? Because I saved your life or because I earned it?”

Gil smiled. “Always ready with a challenge, Frankie. Listen, can’t it be both? And maybe it’s time we called a truce. A real one. Surely, after last night, we can find a way to work together.”

Frankie nodded. “I’m good with that. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Chief.”

“Chief?” Monty’s voice blasted through the door before he stepped inside, Ezzie right on his heels. “Did I hear that right?”

“You did,” Frankie replied proudly.

“Has a familiar ring to it.” Monty sat next to his sister and set a giftwrapped box in her lap. “Brought what you asked me to.” He hugged her close, and Roman could see the last of the worry drop away from her brother’s face.

“Thank you,” Frankie whispered as Gil wheeled himself out. “Ezzie. What did you bring? The entire kitchen?”

“Well, I figured if I’m feeding you, I may as well feed the people who have to work today. I’ve got my assistants handing out plates of food. Oscar and Myra are putting his walker to good use.”

“Your assistants?” Roman cringed. “Mom? What’s going on?”

Ezzie sat at the end of Frankie’s bed and looked at him. “I’ve decided to make some changes in my life. I’ve got myself a new job.”

“A job where?” Roman asked.

“Here. In Butterfly Harbor. I’m moving into the senior center. I’m their new care adviser and events director. Paige said she could give me some training on the medical issues, including Alice’s special care needs. They have a spare room I’m going to fix up, and I’m going to buy a van. A nice big van we can use so they don’t have to call you all any more for rides. I’m going to be useful again,” she declared. “And it feels wonderful.”

“You’re moving here?” Roman gulped. “Maybe I should rethink that Seattle job after all.” He turned a panic-stricken look at Frankie, who was laughing.

“It’s a wonderful idea,” Frankie croaked. “It’s the perfect fit for all of you. And speaking of a perfect fit.” She held the package out to Roman.

“For me?”

“Don’t sound so shocked,” his mother chided. “Growing up, you always lived for Christmas. Never could get enough presents,” she added with a wink at Frankie. “He made up wish ornaments months ahead.”

“Noted for future reference,” Frankie said, smiling. “Go on. Open it.”

Monty slipped his arm around her shoulder and squeezed. The look brother and sister exchanged had his nerves doing a bit of a jig. “Now I’m definitely curious,” he said.

He took his time, drawing out every moment of frustration he could as he tugged the paper off the box. He lifted the lid. “Frankie.” His throat tightened with emotion. “Frankie, what are you—”

“Try it on.” She scooted closer and handed him her father’s BHFD chief’s cap. “Try it on, Roman.”

He put it on, watched the love rise in her gaze as she reached for him. “It’s a perfect fit. My dad would have been proud for you to wear it.”

“But you’re chief, too, now. You should keep it.”

She shook her head, covering his hands with hers when he tried to pull it off. “It’s exactly where it belongs.” She kissed him again.

“Speaking of belonging.” Ezzie retrieved the box she’d brought with her. “Roman, you asked me to bring this hideous thing with me?” She handed him the humidor when he let go of Frankie.

“Right.” Roman opened the lid and withdrew a small velvet box that he handed to his mom. “The humidor wasn’t where Dad kept his cigars, Mom. It’s where he hid your gifts.”



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