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First I saw the smoke climbing into the air above town, a massive plume of black that seemed intent on devouring the fading blue sky surrounding it as dusk began to near.
Then I smelled the foul stench of something burning that should never be on fire.
As I drove past the City Limits sign for April Springs, I finally heard the sirens.
I’d been away from home visiting my college roommate and helping her deal with the turmoil in her own life, but now I was coming home for a bit of peace and tranquility.
Or so I thought at the time.
Was it possible that Donut Hearts was on fire? After all, a great many flammable things occurred in my kitchen in order to bring folks their delightful treats every day. Between the massive fryer filled with scalding hot oil and the large coffee urns, there was enough potential danger in the place to make it an OSHA nightmare.
Had the dark specter of doom finally killed my life’s ambition to be a donutmaker for the rest of my days?
Then again, if it wasn’t my shop, it could just as easily have been my cottage, not a hundred yards from Donut Hearts as the crow flew. I’d grown up there with my mother and father, moved away to live with my first husband, Max, and then I’d come back again after that marriage had crumbled. Momma and I had shared the space until she’d found love again in the form of our former chief of police, Phillip Martin, and I’d been there alone until I’d married Jake, my second husband and the true love of my life. Was he all right? I couldn’t bear not knowing as I raced toward the visions of chaos ahead of me.
It was all I could do to keep my Jeep on the road as I raced down Viewmont Avenue and onto Springs Drive, nearly running up on the sidewalk in front of city hall as I made the sharp turn to see what exactly was on fire.