by Erin Bevan
Kit gave him a shut-the-hell-up look that had the man backing up with the Playboy bunny in hand. “But I could be wrong. Totally wrong.” The guy turned on his heels and headed toward the parking lot, passing Juan, who stumbled toward her, struggling under the weight of a giant bunny costume.
Holy crap, the thing was huge.
“And when will the Easter Bunny show up?” the mayor asked, glancing around the park. He hadn’t spotted Juan yet.
“Soon.” Kit directed the couple toward Anna. “Very soon. Anna?” She glanced at her coworker. “Why don’t you take the mayor and his lovely wife over to the cake table and show them the masterpiece Chef Donovan made. It’s all of Stony Brooks history on a five-tiered confectionary masterpiece.”
“Wow. That’s awesome.” Mayor Fuller’s expression lit up. “I can’t wait to see.”
“Sure.” Anna reached for the back of her chair. “I don’t mind.”
“Here. Let me help you, dear.” The mayor reached for Anna’s hand, his eyes bulging at the strength he had to use in assisting the pregnant woman to her feet.
Lucky for Kit, Anna didn’t see the man strain, or the water works from the clouds would be the least of her worries.
“Right this way, sir, ma’am.” Anna held out her hand in the direction of the food tables.
Once the threesome turned their backs, Kit spun and threw eggs from her basket all over the ground as she ran toward Juan. The costume in his hands appeared to weigh five hundred pounds.
“You sure about this, señorita? This costume, it’s very heavy.” Juan tried to shrug his shoulders. The weight of the suit made the motion look like he tried to shrug his peck muscles instead.
Kit tossed the rest of the eggs all around her. “I’m sure. Here. Switch.” She held out the basket in one hand and went to reach for the costume with the other. As soon as she did, she nearly dropped the thing to the ground. “What the hell is this made out of, lead?”
“That’s why I won’t wear it. The city is too stingy to pay me to dress in that thing. It’s heavy, señorita, and hot. Stinky, too. You sure you will be okay?”
It’s only twenty minutes. It’s only twenty minutes. And possibly pictures. She couldn’t think that far ahead. One disaster at a time.
“I’ll be fine. Please, run around and make sure all the tables and chairs are set up. I need to get suited up.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Juan saluted and carried the bright yellow basket with him as he tucked in chairs.
Kit scurried behind a Sycamore tree, nearly tripping over the giant feet of the costume. Her stomach sweated where she held the material against her shirt. Geez, this thing was hot. Twenty minutes. She could handle twenty minutes. She had to. “Here goes nothing.” She shoved the giant head over her face, barely able to see out of the mesh mouth eyehole.
Chapter 2
Brant Fuller stared at the notice in his hand. Taxes, going up. Of course. Every spare penny he had sat tied up in his new restaurant, and the last thing he needed or wanted to think about was shelling out more money. He slapped the letter down on the newly installed granite. Could this day get any worse? His new restaurant and brewery had a scheduled open date of two weeks away, and his event coordinator quit through text. This morning. Through text. Who the hell quits through text? Apparently, Millennials.
He should have known not to hire someone so young, but he’d developed a soft spot for the guy: Twenty-two, working on building his own business. Brant understood the desire to follow your dreams. Hence why he stood on the freshly-laid tile floor, staring at his almost-finished space—a pub that needed someone in charge of event coordinating and marketing if he ever thought this dream of his would actually go anywhere.
It didn’t matter that he’d pinched every penny he’d made from the age of twenty to make this dream come true. What good was all his hard work if no one knew about it?
This pub had to work. He didn’t have two extra pennies left to rub together, and there was no way at the ripe age of thirty he would crawl back to his dad for help. No way in hell, and his sister, she had enough on her plate. She didn’t need an oversized kid to take care of, too.
His phone dinged him back to reality. Checking the screen, he smiled at his sister’s text. Fitting that Lynn would text while he thought about her.
Riley really wants to see you today. Come to the park for the egg hunt?
As much as he needed to focus on his problems, the chances of finding someone to help on a Saturday were slim. With the aid of social media, the possibility existed, but he doubted anyone would want to talk shop on the weekend. He’d have to wait until Monday to start scouting a new person, and he hated disappointing his niece. Brant shot off a quick text.
Tell cutie I’ll be there, and I want to find eggs with her.
He pocketed his phone and stared around at his restaurant. For better or worse this building—this business—was his. Monday his new employees would come in for training, his food and alcohol deliveries would arrive, televisions would get installed, and his life would turn upside down even more so than it had in the past two months—the past ten years—getting this place together. And despite not having a marketing manager or event coordinator on staff, his only regret was his mom wasn’t here to see him. He picked up a paper coaster from the bar, the pub’s emblem bright red on a cream background: Betsy’s Place.
Somehow, someway, he would make this business a success because he knew his mom looked down on him from Heaven. He placed the coaster back into the holder and headed across the tiled floor. He had a niece to please, and, if his mom guarded him today, a stepmother to avoid.
By the time he made it to the park, nearly every available parking place held oversize family vehicles in them. He had to park over at the only other local tavern in town, Jake’s. A short jaunt across the parking lot and about a block down the street, nearly the whole town stood by the edge of the grassy park lawn—including his step-cousin May. He swerved to the left, making sure to avoid her. Even before they became step-cousins, May had always been a bit…much. She’d had a crush on him as wide as the ocean is deep, and still to this day he had a gut feeling her attraction hadn’t changed. Not something he wanted to deal with today or any day for that matter.
Little children from the ages of zero to twelve stood at the edge of the lawn, Easter baskets in hand. A warm wind ripped through the open area of the park, sending random eggs rolling across the grass and little girl’s dresses flying in the breeze.
Over by the cake table, the mayor stood next to his wife, making that an area of the lawn he’d greatly like to avoid. Under the park gazebo, a very pregnant woman stood with a microphone in her hand, wearing a flowing dress that looked more like a curtain panel than an outfit. An expression of sheer panic marred her face as she stared at the voice-amplifying device she held while a clumsy Easter Bunny attempted to hop around the lawn.
Wow. Was this legit?
Stony Brook’s first annual Easter Egg Hunt was turning out to be a sheer joke. At least he didn’t have this person as his event coordinator. None had to be better than this.
Brant sauntered across the lawn, weaving between parents, children, and strollers in search of his niece. Several people stopped and stared, offering polite smiles and waves, but their gazes held a glimmer of curiosity. Everyone wanted to know about the mysterious wayward son. The one who’d disappeared for ten years.
“Uncle Brant, Uncle Brant!” Riley jumped in the air, waving her little white-glove covered hand. She looked like a tiny princess decked in a fluffy yellow dress, her basket bright pink in color, and her long, brown hair fell in curls around her face.
“Hey, sweetie.” He picked her up and wrapped her in a hug. “Are we going to win the egg hunt?”
“Yeah!” Riley screamed in his ear.
Brant pulled his head back. “Whoa there, angel. Uncle’s gotta hear for several more years still.”
Lynn laughed. “She’s a little excited. Since Greg’s g
ot to work a double, and I’m having a hard time keeping up with her, she practically begged me all morning to make sure you would come.”
His sister’s stomach had grown since the last time he’d seen her. Six months pregnant with his next niece and radiant as ever, Lynn glowed, but the slump of her shoulders, and the way she held her back, Brant could tell she grew tired as the weeks went on.
His brother-in-law, Greg, took on extra shifts at the police station to help make ends meet. Brant admired his brother-in-law, and his determination to care for his family, but he wanted to help, too.
“Hey, you know I’ll always have a spot for you at the bar, if you ever decide to go back to work.”
Lynn gave him an admiring smile. “I’m sure dad would love that. Both of us working in your ‘pipe dream,’” she teased.
“Yeah, well that ‘pipe dream’ is going to happen in a few weeks with or without Dad’s approval.” Brant shifted Riley to his hip.
“I know, Brant. I’m proud of you, bud.” His sister rubbed the back of his neck.
At least someone in his family was. His father always pushed the political life on him, a life he knew from the very beginning of his dad’s campaigns wasn’t a route he cared to go. All the politics, the brown nosing, the rubbing elbows—no, thank you. Not for him.
“You still coming to the opening in a few weeks?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Greg and I even got a sitter, but I haven’t seen anything in the newspapers about it. When are you going to start advertising?”
The million-dollar question.
“Just as soon as I find someone to take over that job for me.”
An earsplitting screech bellowed from the sound system. The lady under the gazebo held the microphone away from her body as she scrunched her face, while the rest of the citizens covered their ears. Moans and gasps echoed over the noise of the speaker as thunder rolled above.
The incompetent Easter Bunny shuffled to the pergola, nearly tripping over its big feet. Brant glanced at the mayor. His dad covered his own ears with his hands, while Regina stood beside the dessert table with a scowl on her face. Nothing unusual there.
As the screeching died down, Prego under the gazebo pulled the microphone back to her mouth. “Oh, Lord,” her voice shook. “So sorry about that.” She gave a nervous smile. “Umm…wel…welcome to Stony Brook’s first annual Easter Egg Hunt.”
A few claps echoed through the otherwise silent crowd.
“Umm… yes...” The woman glanced around the park, public speaking obviously not her major in college. “Umm…” She looked down at her clipboard. “We’re. Going. To. Start. The. Egg. Hunt. Now.” The woman read word for word from her paper. “The. Kid. With. The. Most. Eggs. By. Age. Group. Will. Win. A. Prize.” She stopped and stared at the group. The utter silence of the large crowd made the woman more nervous. Her grip shook on the microphone as she reached for her foghorn.
“We’re going to win,” he whispered in Riley’s ear. She greeted him with a big, approving smile.
“Yeah we are.” She wiggled down his hip, her basket at the ready.
“I’ll be back here when you finish guys. Good luck.” Lynn held both thumbs up to Riley.
“Okay, everyone.” The lady placed the horn high in the air. “On your mark. Get set.” The horn blasted off like the children ready to search for the eggs did with her final word: “Go.”
Brant grabbed Riley’s hand and hurried through the lawn, picking up every egg they saw in their path. Many were strewn on the ground, easy for the younger kids to pick up, while some hid high in trees, under tables, chairs, and in bushes.
“I got one. I got one,” Riley yelled as she picked up a bright pink egg that matched his stepmother’s dress. The two were about as round, too.
“Good job, Ri. Look, I see more over there.” He pointed toward an area by the gazebo. Three speckled eggs lay in the grass by the base of the giant standing speaker. Just as he went to reach down, a big, plushy foot stomped on his hand.
“Ow.” He scowled and looked up. “Watch it, rabbit.”
The deranged bunny stumbled forward, stepping on eggs with each step, and shook his big, fluffy hands at Brant in way of apology.
The city must be tight on cash to hire this looser rabbit. No wonder he received notice taxes were going up. If he cared more about politics, he might ask his dad for the details about the fee raise. If he cared. As a new business owner, he should care, but as a man who’d had politics shoved down his throat his entire life, he couldn’t give a bunny pellet less.
Brant closed his grip on the egg, stood, and placed the bounty in Ri’s basket.
“As soon as all the eggs are found…” Prego’s voice boomed from the sound system.
“Agh!” he screamed and placed a finger inside his ear as he backed away from the amplifier.
“You okay, Uncle Brant?” Riley yelled over the commotion.
“What?” His ear rang as the pregnant woman under the gazebo kept talking.
“Please write your name and age on a card and place it inside your basket then leave your basket on the long table in front of the gazebo.” The woman pointed a pudgy finger toward a table near her. “We will go through and count each egg and award prizes by age group.”
“Prizes.” Riley jumped and yanked his hand. “Come on, Uncle B.”
Brant allowed his niece to pull him toward the drop-off table, her gloved hand nearly slipping out of his grip. “Careful, Riley.” He tightened his hold on her. The mad bunny stumbled near them on those huge, plushy feet again and its oversized behind toppled a basket to the ground, spilling the contents onto the grass. A little girl who looked to be about three screamed. In way of apology the big hare waved its hands in the air again. The mother of the child gave the stumbling character an evil stare as she bent to pick up the eggs.
What a moron.
Whoever was in charge of this event needed to fire this bunny, ASAP. Not only could the person not walk in the costume but also they’d obviously slept through Bunnies-R-Us acting school. In fact, whoever was in charge of this event should be fired. What a mess.
Riley gave a small tug on his hand as she placed her basket on the table. “I hope I win. You think I’ll win?”
Brant pulled his attention back to his niece. “I don’t know, sweetheart. We have a lot of eggs, so there is a good chance.”
He glanced over the other baskets to check out the competition. May stood at the far end of the table and gave him a slight wave.
Damn it.
Common courtesy said wave back.
Please don’t let her come over here.
To hopefully avoid a meeting with the woman, he turned toward Riley and passed her a piece of paper and a marker so she could write her name. Riley did as instructed then placed the paper neatly in her basket. When he looked back up, May was gone.
Good.
“We will announce the winners during lunch,” the pregnant woman boomed into the microphone. Her cheeks no longer sported the red color, and her voice evened out as well as intensified. Whatever shyness this lady had over public speaking seemed to dissipate as fast as the storm clouds rolled in the sky.
“Hey guys, did you hear that?” Lynn stepped next to him. “Time to eat. We better get in line.” She held her hand out for Riley, and Brant followed his two favorite women to the food table. Lynn turned toward him and whispered, “Did you see Dad over there?”
“Yep. Sure did.”
“You know you need to go speak to him.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Mommy, can we go sit with Grandpa and Grandma?” Riley pulled on her mother’s hand.
Brant’s mood always soured when Riley called Regina Grandma. Unfortunately, his mom had died shortly after Riley had been born. His niece never did get to have a relationship with her real grandma. Regina was who Riley knew, and while the lady acted fine as a grandmother, it still irked him she took his mother’s place. And so soon after his m
other had been put in the ground.
Lynn cut her gaze to him as a smirk spread across her face.
“Fine.” Brant rolled his eyes. “Let’s get our food and all go sit together.” Like the picture-perfect happy family the mayor wanted the whole town to think they were. And, hell, that meant sitting by May, too. He sighed. Whatever. He could play along for a few minutes. For Riley. Only for Riley.
Brant stood at the end of the table and grabbed a paper plate. Two lines assembled, one on each side of the table. The sweet and spicy aroma of barbecue sauce drifted in the wind. A giant cast iron cooking smoker sat on the edge of the park lawn, while a longhaired man stood steady at the grill, flipping a giant piece of brisket. At least one thing in this event was done right. The food.
His mouth watered as he stared at the fixings down the table: potato salad, corn on the cob, ham, rolls, and garden salad. Traditional Southern Easter grub, and at the end of the table, a giant bowl of barbecue sauce to smother his meat in, and a cake that stood nearly as tall as the gazebo. Eager to taste the delicacies his nose wiggled in delight over, he inched his way down the line.
“Hello, Brantley.”
He’d recognize the voice anywhere. The two-timer herself.
“Hi, Regina.” He barely glanced at the woman.
“Glad to see you here,” she said in a tone that sounded anything but glad.
“Yeah, I came for Riley. We had fun finding eggs together.”
“That’s lovely. Have you given any more consideration to hiring May to be your event coordinator for that little hobby of yours that you’re opening?”
The way she said ‘hobby’ had his spine tingling with irritation. No, he hadn’t come anywhere near desperate enough to hire May as his event coordinator. He knew the girl would focus little on submitting a press release to the newspaper and more on getting herself pressed and finding release on top of his bar. No way in hell would he hire her. “I told you, Regina, mixing family with business is a bad idea.” He’d hire the bozo that organized this event before he hired May.
