After 30 Years as a Firefighter, I Bought a Lavender Farm in Oregon. The Woman Who Answered My Ad Wasn’t Looking for a Job

I yelled at Grace to call 911 and get the visitors to the parking lot. Then I grabbed the irrigation hose and went straight at it.

The volunteer fire department got there in eleven minutes. By then, I had held the fire to the ditch. We lost one row of lavender and a section of fence.

When it was over, I sat down on the tailgate of the fire engine, covered in ash, with my knee screaming.

Grace walked over and sat down next to me.

She didn’t say anything for a long time. Then she took my hand.

“You ran straight at it,” she said.

“That’s the job.”

“You’re retired, Mike.”

“Apparently not from everything,” I said.