Tall, Strong & Cool Under Fire. Marie Ferrarella

“No. It’s new.”

      She seemed so upset that she couldn’t remember it, Bryce felt it best to gloss over the detail. No sense dwelling on it. If Mommy didn’t show up soon to claim her, he had friends on the police force who could help track her down.

      “Sometimes,” he commented, “new things are hard to remember.” Holding her hand, he helped her up the steps of the fire truck so that she could get a closer look inside the cab. “Do you know your name?”

      She looked at him with just a touch of impatience bringing her small, wheat-colored brows together in a puckered furrow. “Of course I do. My name’s not new. It’s as old as I am.”

      “I see.” He pretended to nod his agreement. “My name is Bryce Walker. What is your name?”

      She tossed her head, sending soft swirls of blond hair bouncing back and forth. “CeCe Billings. I was named after my G-mama. The first part.”

      “The first part,” he repeated, not quite sure that he followed her.

      “Yes. CeCe.” She held her arms out for him to help her down. “Except her name’s really Cecilia. Mine is, too, but Mommy calls me CeCe so she doesn’t mix G-mama and me up.”

      Bryce set her down on the ground again. “I see.” Though it didn’t actually have anything to do with finding her mother or her home, he couldn’t resist gleaning just a little more information about this diminutive blonde chatterbox who had wandered into his station. “And what does your daddy call you?”

      “Nothing,” she told him with a matter-of-fact air worthy of someone five or six times her age. “I don’t have a daddy. Mommy says we’re doing just fine without one.”

      “Uh-huh.” Mommy was obviously rather adamant about the subject, he thought, given the verve he heard in CeCe’s voice. “Well, I don’t think she’s doing just fine right now,” he speculated, more to himself than to the tiny intruder. “She’s probably out looking for you right now.”

      His visitor shook her head with feeling, sending her blond curls flying back and forth again. “I don’t think so. Mommy’s busy.”

      “Doing what?” He had a very low opinion of a mother who was too busy to notice her child was missing. In his mind, he envisioned a woman neglecting her child for any one of a half-dozen reasons, none of which were acceptable.

      Like someone on a deliberate, savored odyssey, CeCe’s inspection of the fire truck was taking her to the rear of the vehicle. “She’s gotta tell all those men what to do. They’re all confused.”

      They weren’t the only ones, Bryce thought. “What men?”

      “The men who are helping her.” She frowned. “You’re not listening. Mommy told G-mama men don’t listen.”

      “Oh, she did, did she?” Mommy obviously didn’t have a very high opinion of men. Which made them equal, because he didn’t have a high opinion of women who misplaced their children.

      But, in the absence of the appearance of a frantic woman searching for her wandering gypsy of a child, he had no recourse but to keep the little girl occupied. On a hunch, he tapped her on the shoulder and when she turned around to look at him, he extended his hand to her. “Would you like a tour of the fire station while we try to figure out how to find your mommy?”

      CeCe took his hand readily, but she cocked her head and looked at him, as if that would help her understand his meaning better. “Why? Mommy’s not lost.”

      He smiled at her. If he had chosen a different path for himself, a child like Cece might have been his by now. But that was all water under a bridge he had crossed over voluntarily a long time ago.

      “No, but you are.”

      “No, I’m not.” The smile that came to her lips was so bright, Bryce found himself instantly charmed and very firmly captivated. How could anyone not notice that a little doll like this was missing? “I’m right here. With you.”

      He found he had a difficult time arguing with that, so he didn’t even try.

      Lisa Billings felt as if she had taken exhaustion to a new high. Or low, depending on the point of view.

      All she knew was that right at this moment, she felt more drained than a riverbed during a prolonged draught. For the last six months she had been flying between her former home in Dallas and the city she had decided to resettle her family in, trying to find the perfect locale for both her store and her new home. A new home where she intended to make a new life for herself and her daughter. The appeal of a fresh start was strong.

      Her requirements weren’t many, but they were nonnegotiable. She wanted someplace that was bright and clean and safe, somewhere with a wonderful school system that would benefit a daughter as bright and eager to learn as CeCe was. The hundred and twenty some-odd details that went into making the transition had finally led her to Bedford, which was as near-perfect as she could hope for.

      Looking back, she couldn’t remember a time in the last six months when she hadn’t been busy enough for two people. As busy as she was, she couldn’t spend too much time thinking and that was a blessing. She didn’t like to have too much time to think, or reflect.

      But somehow, amid all that busy-ness that was taking place, she had just about “busied” herself out and lost sight of the most important thing of all. CeCe. CeCe, the reason she had undertaken owning and running a toy store that catered to a child’s fertile imagination and not to noise, chaos and the advertising toy craze of the moment. CeCe, who was, quite simply, the reason she drew breath every day.

      Somehow, amid the rush of movers who were bent on testing the durability of every breakable item she owned and the confusion of getting everything reorganized again, she had misplaced her daughter.

      One minute, CeCe was playing in the new front yard, doing her best not to get underfoot. The next, when Lisa looked back to check on her, CeCe was gone. A quick search of the area told Lisa that her daughter wasn’t in the front yard, or the back. Or anywhere else in the house, either. Tired of exploring it, CeCe had obviously gone on to conquer other areas.

      Lisa tried very hard not to give in to the panic that was swiftly filling all the empty spaces left inside of her. Praying she had somehow missed seeing her, Lisa made another, faster pass through the two-story house, looking behind boxes and any place CeCe might have decided to turn into a temporary play area.

      When this go-round proved to be as fruitless as the first, she hurried out to the front yard again. There she found her mother. Cecilia Dombrowski was directing the movers like one of the field marshals who had existed in her family tree.

      One look at her daughter’s face had Cecilia halting in midcommand. “What is it?”

      Years of taking on too much, of trying to be invincible, had brought Lisa to the brink of collapse and had her tottering there now. She felt herself very close to crumbling and hated herself for having the feeling. “I can’t find her anywhere, Mother. I can’t find CeCe.”

      The older woman set her mouth grimly. Moving quickly, Cecilia did an about-face and placed herself in the center of the movers. Raising her hands, she immediately captured their attention.

      “My granddaughter is missing. You all know what she looks like. Please stop what you are doing and look for her. Now.” The movers, four burly men of varying heights, looked at one another, somewhat bewildered and confused. “Now,” Cecilia repeated. She pointed first to the left of the house and then to the right. “There are houses on both sides of this one. Knock on doors. Ask. She was here a few minutes ago and her legs are short. She could not have gone far. Your legs are much longer, you can cover more distance. Please.”

      The last word was issued as more of a command than a plea. Cecilia’s look was unwavering as her eyes swept over the four men’s faces.

      The men quickly scattered, doing as she asked. The furniture could wait.

      With