Point of Origin
Authors: Rebecca Yarros
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 by Rebecca Yarros.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the author.
www.RebeccaYarros.com
Edited by Molly E. Lee
Cover design by Okay Creations
ISBN: 13-978-0-9973831-0-2
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition March 2016
To my Flygirls.
Because you said firefighters,
and Legacy was born.
I adore each and every one of you.
Chapter One
Emerson
“Just another month?” Agnes asked as she handed the coffees across the bar in to-go cups. Her nail polish was bright pink, matching the one rebellious streak in her silver hair.
“Yep, one more,” I confirmed when she sighed.
“You sure you need to go all the way to London? We’re going to miss you around here.”
I slid my debit card into my wallet and tucked it into my purse. “I’ll be back before you even realize I’ve gone,” I promised, taking both of the coffees. Maybe I’d be lucky and get back before I’d even realized I’d gone. Not that I wasn’t grateful for the opportunity, but the whole purpose of the internship was political and I’d never been politically minded.
“Emerson Renee Kendrick, I’ve known you since you were a twinkle in your daddy’s eye. You’ve been coming to my diner just about as long, and getting coffee every morning since you turned eighteen. I’ll realize you’re gone the moment you walk out of those doors.”
I couldn’t hide my grin as I shook my head. She was right, of course. I’d basically grown up in this diner, doing my homework until Mom finished work across the street in her florist shop. “Yes, Ma’am. Well, I’d better get these to Mayor Davis.”
She leaned over the counter. “Ooh, is that hearing this morning? Everyone’s been dying to hear who’s been building up on the old Parson land.”
One of my eyebrows rose. “Are you telling me you haven’t driven up there a dozen times already and peeked?” Of course, she had.
Everyone
had. Except me. It wasn’t the new construction that bothered me, but rather what laid along the ridgeline behind it.
Her eyes widened in false innocence as she took a rag to the impeccably clean counter top. “Well, I mean…everyone’s seen the signs. Legacy, LLC. It’s odd, right?”
“About as odd as anyone naming a company after the town we live in, I suppose,” I said, slowly backing away from the counter. Agnes would talk all day if I didn’t’t get out of here. “It’s got to be someone local with all the money they’ve funneled into the rebuild. Just about every business owes them a debt of gratitude.” The money had started showing up just as the rebuild was in full swing a few years ago, a few thousand here, tens of thousands there.
“Right? And it’s a rather large complex. Don’t you think? Was it even permitted?”
“It’s just outside the Legacy town limits, Agnes, so it falls under the county.” Another few feet and I’d be home free.
“Well, you could ask that boy you’re seeing over there on the zoning board for the county. What’s his name?” She looked up from the counter, her blue eyes locking onto my brown ones with the accuracy of a guided missile.
“You know darn well it’s Greg Roberts. You’ve been serving him coffee just as long, and Agnes, we’re not seeing each other. We’re just friends, so you can stop hinting.” My butt hit the glass of the door, and the bells jingled as I bumped it open.
She waved her rag at me. “Twenty-four years old and you still won’t lock down a man. Don’t you want your name carved into my wall?” She gestured back to the soft pine wall at the south end of the diner, etched with the names of the town’s lovers. “I’m telling you, if I had your figure, or that hair, I’d have…”
“Love you, too, Agnes!” I slid out the door of the Chatterbox Diner and into the crisp August air. Summer was still in full swing in the mountains of Colorado, but the mornings brought with them the little bite of fall’s foreshadowing. The door glided shut behind me, and I winced, missing the squeaking hinge I’d grown up with, already mentally chastising myself. Of course, the damn door didn’t squeak. It was new.
Everything was new.
More or less.
That’s what happens when an entire town burns down. Everything gets replaced.
I glanced over at the fire hall, its garage doors bright red against the stone of the building.
Hell, everyone gets replaced.
My heels clicked on the smooth concrete as I walked two blocks through our tiny town’s heart, greeting everyone by name as they passed me. Greg’s Explorer was parallel parked just before the town office, proving once again how punctual he was…how dependable.
It would be so easy to fall into a relationship with him, to finally take him up on that date he kept asking for. But what good was that going to do? He was an attractive guy, sure, only a few years older than me and probably even a decent kisser. But there was no chemistry, no sizzle when he touched my hand, no longing within me. I felt just as frigid next to him as I did with every other guy, which honestly annoyed the shit out of me. It would be comfortable, safe, just like every relationship I’d had in college, but there was a reason I’d quit trying to date over a year ago.
No one was…
him.
My eyes slid shut, and my grip tightened on the cups.
Don’t go there.
I caught myself just in time, stopping the onslaught of memories with an indrawn breath and mentally going through my schedule as I blinked.
Focus on now.
The door to the Town Hall opened, and Greg stepped into the sunlight as it caught in his blond hair, his suit impeccable as his timing. “Good morning, Ms. Kendrick,” he said with a very cute grin.
“Mr. Roberts,” I nodded with a smile of my own as I walked through the door he held open for me. “Nice to see you,” I said over my shoulder as I walked up the flight of stairs to the mayor’s office.
He was totally checking out my ass.
“Greg? Up here.”
His eyes shot up to my face as his reddened. “Sorry.”
I laughed. “At least I know the skirt is effective.”
“Very,” he admitted as he raced ahead of me to open the second set of doors that brought us into Mayor Davis’s office. “Do you know who this Legacy manager is?”
I shook my head. “I figured you did since you sit on the zoning board.”
“No, I only dealt with the attorney,” he finished as we made it to the office.
“Good morning, Emerson,” Mayor Davis said, taking one of the coffees from me. “Thank you very much. I appreciate you doing that for me.”
I almost mouthed along as he spoke, knowing his routine by heart. It was as predictable as he was, as he liked everything to be. “I’ll make sure Jenn knows how you like it.”
He paused over his desk as he was reaching for his files. “Oh, right. I keep forgetting that you’re leaving us.”
“It’s only six months,” I reminded him.
“Legacy will definitely benefit from you going,” Greg answered. “An internship with the mayor of London is huge.”
“And I couldn’t have done it without your recommendation and urging,” I said to Mayor Davis.
He waved me off with a small shake of his head. “That was all you, Emerson. You’ve been instrumental in getting Legacy back on her feet. You’ll make a fine mayor one day.”
Nope, not going there.
“Our nine o’clock should be here,” I said, trying to change the subject. Anyone in my position would have gotten that internship. We were the miracle town—the phoenix that had risen from the ashes.
“Why do you do that?” Greg whispered as we walked behind Mayor Davis, following him down the stairs.
“Do what?” I asked, juggling the files for this morning’s business.
“Act you don’t deserve the internship?”
“I don’t like the idea of profiting from the town’s history.”
From his death. All the death.
He blocked me from entering the town hall. “You deserve it. You stayed when a lot of us left. You were on the front lines as a teenager, demanding they rebuild our high school. You commuted to college, volunteered your time here, worked on getting Legacy solvent. And what do you plan on doing with all this new-found city-running knowledge?”
“I’m coming home, of course. I’ll use it here.” There was no other place in the world I wanted to be. Legacy, even with its tortured past, was my home and always would be. I blew the loose, brown strand of my almost-grown-out bangs out of my face, cursing my hurried French twist, and tried not to freeze when Greg tucked it behind my ear.
Why couldn’t I want him?
He gave me a sad smile and moved his hand away slowly, as if I’d spoken out loud. “Then see? Think of it more as Legacy investing in you.”
After an awkward side-to-side motion, I gave him a tense nod and slipped by him. Mayor Davis pulled my chair out, and I took my seat, placing the files in front of me as he took the seat next to me. The other council members slipped in, taking their seats with quiet chatter and louder speculation about the morning’s events.
It was a good thing these proceedings were closed-doors, or half our three-thousand-person town would have been in here to find out who Legacy, LLC was.
The first matters of business were easily handled. I made notes to talk to Mrs. Greevy about her hatred of the proposed stop sign at Plum St. and Aspen Ave. It would go over a lot easier at the next meeting if she piped down about it. I glanced up at the clock. Five minutes until the ten-thirty.
I circled the name Legacy, LLC on my agenda like I was back in high school, doodling on my notes. My elbow slipped on the desk’s surface, and I knocked the file to the ground, papers scattering.
“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath, despite Mrs. Anderson’s disapproving stare from the seat next to me. I dropped to my hands and knees, cursing my skirt and picking up the papers to shove them back into the file. The door to the room opened and shut. Our ten-thirty was here. Thank God there was a wooden partition in front of the desk that hid me, and my ass, which was no doubt peeking out from my skirt.
“Holy shit, you’re Legacy, LLC?” Greg asked from a few chairs down.
“I’m one of the partners,” a deep voice answered. “How’s it going, Greg?”
I froze, awareness racing down my spine, through my limbs, and tingling my fingers.
No fucking way. It’s not possible.
But I knew that voice anywhere. It was the sound of laughter in my childhood, the lectures about my clothes when my curves came in, the deep, whispered pleas not to get too close when he’d realized he was the reason I’d worn my skirts shorter, my necklines lower. It was the quiet timbre and soothing, muttered promises that we’d be okay on that day our fathers had died. It was the silence that came after. Always the damned silence.