Confectionately Yours #4: Something New by Lisa Papademetriou Page B

even has time to catch up. “Chloe! Chloe! Wake up! There’s a fire!”
    “Mraf?” Chloe mumbles.
    I shake her. “Fire! Chloe! Get up!”
    “What?” She sits straight up. “Are you —” Then she must smell it, too, because she tosses back her covers and jumps out of bed.
    I’m already running down with the hall with Tessie prancing at my ankles as Mom comes out of her bedroom, pulling on a robe. “Hayley?”
    “Mom, there’s a fire!” I dash into Gran’s room. “Gran! Smoke.”
    Gran gets up, calm as can be. “Thank you, dear,” she says.
    “Mother!” Mom races into Gran’s bedroom. “We’ve got to hurry!”
    “Yes, dear, of course,” Gran says, putting on her slippers.
    “Mother, there’s no time for that!” Mom insists, but Gran just says that she’s not about to risk getting a cold, and then she goes to her closet and pulls out a box. “Mother!” Mom cries. “What are you doing? What is that? Leave it!”
    “Absolutely not,” Gran says. “It’s important documents and a photo album.”
    “We’ve got to get out of here!” Chloe wails as Tessie runs around her in a circle, like a herding dog.
    “All right, all right,” Gran says, and we all grab our coats and boots and hurry down the back stairs — Tessie leading the way.
    The moment we open the door, we’re smacked with the sound of a blaring horn mingled with a wailing siren. Red lights flicker against the brick walls as we hurry around the block, to the front of the Tea Room.
    “It’s the flower shop!” Chloe cries, and she’s right — some of the firefighters are pointing a hose at Malik’s Fine Flowers. But the real fire is next door, at the new Mexican restaurant.
    “Oh, my —” My voice is strangled, and it’s hard to breathe. The air is thick with smoke; a black cloud pours into the gray sky. It’s amazing — it’s a cool spring night, but you wouldn’t know it. It’s like standing before a massive bonfire — my hair rises in the heat. We all watch, stunned, as a group of firefighters aim a hose at the flaming windows.
    The image blurs as my eyes fill. The flower shop! And what about our home? What about the café?
    “Get back!” one of the firefighters shouts at us, and we retreat a few steps.
    “Umer always said the venting wasn’t done properly,” Gran murmurs. “Oh, how horrible!” She puts a hand over her mouth.
    Another fire truck pulls up. Then another. Now the whole street is flickering in the red lights. With their helmets and jackets and gear, all the firefighters look alike, and the street seems to be swarming with them. Northampton doesn’t have this many trucks — they must be coming from nearby towns. People have come out of their homes to watch.
    Mom stops a firefighter who is hurrying past. “Excuse me,” she says quickly. “Will the surrounding buildings be all right?”
    “It looks like the fire’s contained for now, ma’am,” he says, and I feel us all sink with relief. “But I wouldn’t head inside, if that’s what you were thinking.”
    “That is not what she was thinking,” Gran assures him before he hurries off. “Absolutely not!”
    “At least there aren’t any apartments above the stores,” Mom says, pulling Gran close. Our building has apartments, but there’s a tattoo parlor over the flower shop and a dance studio over the restaurant. Nobody is ever inside those buildings in the middle of the night. “I hope no one was hurt.”
    “And we’re okay,” I add. I reach for Chloe’s hand, and we lace our fingers together. She snuggles against me, and then leans down to pat the dog.
    “Tessie saved us!” Chloe crows.
    We all stare at the dog, who is standing there, tail wagging.
    Mom puts a hand to her forehead. “I think I need to sit down,” she says.
    And at the word sit , Tessie does.
    Can you believe that?
    “Good dog,” Chloe says. She kneels down and hugs Tessie, who goes mad licking her face. “Good, good dog! Best dog!”
    I really can’t