He glanced up to where Charlie pointed, her arm trembling with the cold and adrenaline.

“Oh no,” he said. “Okay, hang on while I put Bonnie in the truck. We’ll get Gateau down, don’t worry.” Jake grabbed Bonnie by the collar. “Come on, girl.”

“It’s too cold in the truck,” Charlie protested. “Go ahead and put Bonnie inside. Just close the door to the bakery.”

“It’s my fault,” Charlie said when Jake returned. “I must not have closed the door all the way. I didn’t even think about it! I completely forgot about Gateau.” Cass would kill her if anything happened to the cat. Tears sprung to her eyes as she imagined admitting to her sister what she’d done.

“Hey, take a breath,” Jake said, putting an arm around her. He was warm and strong, and she relaxed against him. “I’ll get her down. It’s kind of what I do, remember? Cats in trees are no big deal for firefighters.”

“I’m so glad you’re here.”

Jake chuckled, releasing her. “Well, if I wasn’t here, Bonnie wouldn’t have chased Gateau up the tree, so . . .”

“Fair point,” she conceded, her teeth chattering.

Jake took off his hoodie and handed it to her. “Here. You’re freezing.” As she zipped up the garment, she caught a mild whiff of something unfamiliar . . . Was it smoke?

“I know, it smells like a campfire. I started a fire for Gran before I left.”

She sniffed deeply. Yes, it was mild, but it was there. Smoke. The relief at realizing her sense of smell was returning nearly overwhelmed her, but she fought to keep it hidden. She put the hood up and grinned at Jake. “Thank you,” she said, her teeth already chattering less.

“You’re welcome.” He smiled and tugged gently on the strings on either side of the hood, cinching it closer to her head. She probably looked ridiculous, but she didn’t even care.

“So,” Jake added, looking around the yard. “We should do this before we lose the last bit of light. Is there a ladder somewhere?”

“Leaning against the side of the bakery,” Charlie replied, hoping that was still where her dad kept it.

“I can’t believe this happened. I’m such an idiot,” she said once Jake returned with the bulky aluminum ladder. It was ancient and unwieldy, though he handled it like it was nothing more than a plastic garden chair.

“Are you kidding me? It’s my dog who’s the idiot. Listen to her in there, still barking like a fool.” As if on cue, Bonnie let out another series of high-pitched barks. They both laughed. “I love her, but . . .”

“Hey, she’s a work in progress, right?” Charlie moved out of the way so Jake could place the extendable ladder against the tree’s sturdy trunk. “Maybe we’re all just works in progress.”

Jake settled the ladder, testing it to make sure it was secure before glancing back at her. “Feeling philosophical today, are we, Cass?”