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downtown, and Rachel had marched her back to return it as soon as she'd found out. Girls will be girls.
    She wasn't looking forward to asking her handsome neighbor about it, though. If his wife had died in the last couple of months, then he wouldn't want to deal with this, she was sure.
     
     
     
    Chapter 3
     
    From the point of ignition, fire begins to grow. Starting out as a spark or a small flame, other combustibles heat up, liberate flammable gases, and ignite, spreading the chain reaction to other flammables and resulting in an increase in size. -- From Firefighter's Handbook, Essentials of Firefighting and Emergency Response
     
    Sam pulled two frozen pizzas out of the fridge and preheated the oven.
    "I can do that. You go get ready for work. I know the drill." Brenda came up behind him and rested a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged her off gently, feeling a little unsure about the whole situation. She seemed to be working out okay, but her constant touchy feeliness was probably going to get on his nerves after awhile. And the denim skirt she was wearing tonight showed off an awful lot of leg. He was aware that she was probably hitting on him. He was used to that, but he wasn't interested.
    Brenda had spent last night at the house, sleeping on the futon in the living room, to get used to the routine. Sam didn't really see the necessity in it, although he had offered. It was just the night time, surely she didn't need to get into the routine of sleeping. It had been a little disconcerting to wake up to find her in the kitchen in her plain, albeit short pajamas.
    He couldn't wait to start work tonight, so he didn't have to spend the night in the same house with her again. He didn't think she was dangerous, or he wouldn't let her stay with Amanda, but she made him feel uncomfortable. She was just trying too hard to make him like her. And he didn't like her in that way. He needed to get a bed for the guest room, so she wouldn't be sleeping in his living room. The futon couldn't be that comfortable, and he didn't want to walk in on her when he came home.
    He walked out of the kitchen to let Brenda slave over the pizza. He needed to call his dad.
    "Hey Dad. What's up?"
    "Hi there, Sam! Y'all settled?" Sam's dad sounded relieved to hear from him, but typical to his manner, kept his voice even.
    "Yeah. I had a question for you. You got a minute?"
    "Sure, son. Shoot."
    "Well, I thought it would be good to meet with 'Manda's teacher and principal to let them be aware of her situation, you know? And they weren't all that accommodating. I was just wondering how you guys handled stuff like that, you know, when I was a kid? I told them about her mom, and they acted like 'Manda was a felon or something." He had meant to talk to his dad about this sooner, but he'd been busy, unpacking and getting Amanda settled in as best he could.
    His father was silent on the other end of the phone.
    "Dad?"
    "I'm here." Sam's dad expelled a sigh. "I'm sorry son, but I can't help you. Your mother handled all that school stuff with you. I know she met with teachers, and she advocated for you, but I have no idea what went on at those meetings. She would just come home and say that it had been handled." His voice was sad, filled with regret. It was unusual for his dad to show so much emotion.
    Disappointed that he couldn't get the answers he needed, Sam said, "It’s okay Dad. I'll figure something out. Maybe there won't be any problems."
    "Just hope for the best, Son."
    Sam finished his conversation with his dad, distracted by memories of his mother, as he knew his dad was too. His dad had worked a lot when he was a kid, and his mother had done everything with him: took him to school, fixed his lunches, chaperoned field trips, president of the PTA, entertained him on rainy summer days with home made finger paints, and chased away his bad dreams with lullabies. When she'd gotten sick, Sam felt like he owed her for all of her dedication as a mother to