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The fireplace was being difficult.

There was no other way to describe it.

Annette had coaxed it. Encouraged it. Rearranged the wood. Added another piece. Adjusted the

kindling. Tried again.

She had done everything a reasonable person might do to persuade a

perfectly ordinary fireplace to perform the one task for which it had been built.

The fire responded by producing a small flame, considering the situation briefly,

and then disappearing.

Annette stared at it.

“Oh, come on.”

Nothing.

She tried again.

A little flame appeared. It flickered. Then it went out.

Annette put her hands on her hips.

“You're acting like a moody teenager.”

The fireplace seemed to take this personally.

The next attempt was even worse.

Annette sighed.

“What is your problem?”

Silence.

She waited.

There was no obvious answer, of course. Fireplaces were not generally known for their

conversational skills. Still, after everything Annette had encountered while working on the

House, she had learned that "not generally known for" was becoming a rather flexible category.

Then, somehow, the fireplace conveyed the unmistakable impression

that it was unhappy with its life.

Annette paused.

“Are you having an identity crisis?”

The fire gave a tiny, offended flicker.

“Oh.” That explained things.

Apparently the fireplace had been thinking. Not about the wood. Not about the kindling.

Not even about whether Annette had arranged everything properly.

It had begun questioning its purpose.

Its significance.

Its place in the world.

Annette listened.

The fireplace had a point, although she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to admit it. Its entire

existence consisted of burning wood, producing heat,

and occasionally being admired on cold evenings.

That was essentially the whole job description.

Was that enough?

Apparently not.

Annette looked at the fireplace.

“You think your job is insignificant?”

A small flame rose.

Then another.

“Yes?”

The fire crackled.

Annette nodded slowly.

“Well, perhaps you've been thinking too small.”

The fireplace went still.

Annette considered it.

There was probably no point in telling a fireplace that it was, in fact, a fireplace.

It clearly already knew that. What it seemed to need was something bigger.

“What if you had a higher calling?”

A spark appeared.

Annette leaned forward.

“What if you weren't merely a fireplace?”

Another spark.

The fireplace seemed to be listening now.

“What if you were Fire?”

The room became very quiet.

Annette watched the little flame.

“You know who needs a representative for Fire?”

The flames suddenly grew.

Annette smiled.

“Mount Olympus.”

The fireplace roared.

Annette stepped backward.

“Well.”

That had gotten its attention.

The fire surged upward. The logs crackled. The flames leapt higher and brighter than they had all

evening,

suddenly possessing a confidence that had been completely absent only moments before.

Apparently, this was exactly the sort of career opportunity the fireplace had been waiting for.

Annette had questions.

The fireplace had none.

It was busy proving itself.

It burned with renewed purpose. It crackled triumphantly. Sparks rose toward the chimney as

though it were already preparing for some sort of divine appointment.

Annette watched the transformation with a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

“There you go.”The fireplace roared again.

It had found its identity.

It had found its purpose.

It had found a higher calling.

Whether Mount Olympus was actually accepting applications remained unclear.

Annette suspected it might be a competitive field.

The fireplace did not appear concerned.

It was ready.

Very ready.

And from that evening forward, whenever Annette lit the fire, there was a certain confidence in

the flames. A certain dignity. A certain unmistakable sense that someone had finally recognized

the fireplace's potential.

Annette never mentioned the possibility that perhaps it had simply needed a little

encouragement.

That would have been terribly diminishing.

After all, she had apparently helped a fireplace discover its destiny.

It was no longer merely a fireplace.

It was Fire.

And apparently, it had an appointment with Olympus.