The logs catch quickly and, within moments, the fireplace is aglow. Trish grabs her coffee and a camp blanket draped over the couch, slumps into a high-back chair and sighs. She sips her coffee, stares into the fire and says, “I know you’ve been going through a lot, Adie Lou, but I wanted to tell you I was wrong. My life is good, but it’s in neutral. What I’m doing now will be no different than what I’m doing in ten years.” She looks at me. “I admire you. You’re taking risks. You’re doing what you dreamed.” Trish begins to sing, “That girl is on fire.”

I laugh. “Thank you, Alicia Off-Keys.”

“Fire,” she says again.

“I got it the first time,” I say. But when I look at Trish this time, her eyes are wide. She leaps out of her chair, the blanket flying. “No! Really! You’re on fire!”

“What?” I ask, before turning to follow her gaze.

Smoke, thick and heavy, is billowing out of the fireplace and into the cottage. I take a step back, grab a book off the shelf and begin waving it back and forth to clear the air. “Open a window!” I yell at Trish.

The smoke dissipates enough for me to catch a glimpse of the entire fireplace opening. Fire is shooting up the chimney.

“The flue’s on fire!” I yell, grabbing Sonny. “Call 911”

Frank rushes through the patio door and into the kitchen. “What’s going on?” he asks. He sees the fire. “We need to suffocate it,” he says, immediately shutting the flue. “Do you have baking soda?”

“In my toothpaste,” I say unhelpfully.

Frank rolls his eyes, grabs the log carrier and runs out the door. He is back a few seconds later, huffing and puffing, the carrier filled with sand. He tosses it on the fire, and it goes out, just as I hear the sirens of firetrucks.

I run outside with Trish just as two men run up my yard. I expect to see the cottage engulfed in flames, but there is no fire shooting from the top of the chimney.

“We got the flue shut and fire out,” Frank calls to the men.

The two men hurriedly put up a ladder as another truck arrives, and men surround the house.

“Why aren’t they using a hose?” I ask Frank.

“They’re going to use a chimney kit,” Frank says. “It’s a dry chemical extinguishing powder.”

“Adie Lou, are you okay?”

I turn. “Scooter?” I ask. “What are you doing here?”

“Small town,” he says. “I’m a volunteer fireman. What happened?”

“Chimney fire, out of nowhere.”

“When was the last time you had the flue inspected?” he asks. “You probably have an insane buildup of creosote.”

“I don’t know,” I say. “No clue.”

“I know a great flue guy,” Scooter says. “I’ll have him stop by.”