Dottie asked everyone to gather in a circle. River slid next to Georgie, his arm inches from hers. She felt the heat of his body seeping into hers, and found herself edging slightly closer.
“Okay, now,” Dottie said. “Holding the crystal in your right hand, take the hand of the person next to you.”
River glanced down at Georgie as his hand tentatively sought hers, as though he feared she might pull away.
She stared up at him, telling herself that holding his hand was a bad idea—the worst idea—yet she found herself linking her fingers with his, the smooth rock in his hand pressing into her palm.
This felt too right, too natural. Other than the rock, of course, and the absolutely insane scene around them.
He squeezed, holding her gaze, and she knew he felt it too.
She’d lost herself in the moment, so she wasn’t prepared when someone snatched her right hand. A quick glance revealed it was Josie. She swung Georgie’s hand back and forth as if they were schoolkids on a playground.
“I can’t wait to talk to Beau.” Then she sobered, letting their arms hang. “I know he wasn’t my grandfather or anything, but I really miss him.”
Georgie squeezed Josie’s hand and offered a reassuring smile. Josie was infuriating, but as far as Georgie could tell, her intentions were good. “I hope you get a message from him.”
“I am sorry if this doesn’t go well for you,” Josie said. “You’re not sarcastic like your brother is, and you have really nice underwear.”
Georgie heard a muffled sound from her left—River stifling a laugh, if she had to bet. Although she had no idea what Josie was talking about, she figured it would be best not to ask.
Her gaze shifted to Dottie, who was edging her way behind the sofa.
“Aunt Dottie,” River said. “Do you need help with that?”
“Don’t worry,” she said with a grunt, holding the plug at the end of the lights she’d strung up around the hand-painted letters on the cardboard taped to the walls. Thank God she hadn’t painted directly on the plaster. “I just need to get the lights hooked up so Beau can communicate with us.” Still holding the end of the lights, she bent over, feeling for something on the floor.
“Maybe I should help,” River said with a slight edge of concern.
“Don’t be silly,” Dottie said, still bent at the waist and fumbling around on the floor. “It’s here somewhere. I put it here myself this morning.”
“What are you looking for?” River asked, his hand loosening its hold on Georgie’s.
“That extension cord. I found it in Beau’s basement on a shelf… There it is!” Beaming, she stood upright and produced the end of a fat electrical cord that looked like it had come straight from the 1940s.
“Um… Aunt Dottie…” River released Georgie’s hand and took a step forward. “Maybe you shouldn’t use—”
But Dottie wasn’t paying attention as she shoved the plug from the light string into the extension cord.
The smell of ozone hit Georgie’s nose and an electrical buzzing noise filled the room. Light burst from the bulbs on the wall, far brighter than it should have been, and multiple bulbs shattered, sending flying glass into the air.
Which was when several of the light sockets caught fire, along with the connection between the light plug and the extension cord.
Georgie let out a cry of shock, then covered her head to protect herself from flying debris, while several of the other attendees shrieked and ran out of the house.
A smoke alarm began to blare.
The rest of the lights went dim—or rather dimmer—and the light in the kitchen went out. The only thing lighting the room was the burning light cord, the cardboard underneath, and a curtain next to the sofa.
Jezebel let everyone know she didn’t approve of this nonsense by releasing several loud shrieks of protest from the kitchen.
“It’s so pretty!” Josie exclaimed in awe. “Beau’s really putting on a show!”
“Everybody out!” River shouted, grabbing his aunt by the shoulders and escorting her halfway across the living room. “Georgie, can you get Dottie and Josie out of here?”
She didn’t answer, just snagged both women’s arms and started dragging them to the door, but she turned back to see River running into the kitchen. As she pushed the women out onto the front porch, he was hurrying back to the living room with a small fire extinguisher.
Georgie followed the women outside to take a quick head count. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she called 911, letting the dispatcher know there was a house fire and to send a fire truck.
The front windows opened while she was on the call, and gray, then black, smoke billowed out.
When she hung up, she was already running through the front door, searching the living room for River, but most of the fire was out and the darkened room was filled with smoke. She heard the sputtering of the fire extinguisher, which sounded nearly empty.
“River!”
“Georgie! Go back outside!” he shouted, something like panic in his voice.
She wasn’t about to leave him to fight this alone.
She nudged a large crystal someone had dropped on the floor over to the door to prop it open, then ran to the back door, nudging a kitchen chair into the opening before she headed back to River. As she ran back into the smoke-filled room, she could hear River coughing, but the haze kept her from seeing him.
“River!” she shouted. “Come on! The fire department’s on the way!” The faint sound of sirens punctuated her statement.
“It’s almost out!” he shouted, stomping flames on the floor.
The punch bowl caught the corner of Georgie’s eye, so she scooped it into her arms, surprised at how heavy it was, then rushed over to River. The sloshing punch soaked her shirt, but she managed to toss most of its contents toward the flames.
River shifted to the side as she dumped the liquid, but the weight of the bowl threw off her aim and most of it ended up on him, drenching his chest and legs. What liquid did hit the flames made the fire flare even higher.
Well, crap. She forgot there was alcohol in the punch.
The sirens got louder. Help was on the way, but Georgie had just made River a human torch.
“River! I’m sorry! Leave it!”
But then she was hit with a spray of cold water from behind. She turned to see Dottie standing behind her holding a garden hose and wearing the fierce expression of a warrior headed into battle.
The flames sputtered out, and River rushed over and wrapped his arms around both of them, sweeping them toward the front door despite Dottie’s protests that she still needed to talk to Beau.
A fire truck pulled up as they went outside, and the firefighters rushed in to assess the damage. The first responders called an ambulance to check River for smoke inhalation. They arrived quickly, and they told him his oxygen levels were good, thank God. Their official advice was that he should go to the hospital to be fully examined, but he’d assured them he felt fine. Thankfully, he had gym clothes in the car, so he’d been able to at least switch out his T-shirt for a clean one.
Georgie felt grimy and her clothes stank of smoke, but the house hadn’t been officially cleared yet, and she didn’t want to swap her shirt in front of everyone.