by ACF Bookens
I looked up at my friend the sheriff and smiled. “Good morning, Tuck. You ready for the parade?”
He tilted his head and pursed his lips, but then, he must have decided to let what he overheard go. “As ready as I’ll ever be to sit in the back of a convertible and wave at people.”
“What?! It’s not always been your greatest desire to be the homecoming queen?” Daniel asked with a smirk.
“Hardly,” Tuck said. “The parade is fun, though, and I’m loving all the folks who have set up on the street.” He eyed the griddle. “Any chance I can trouble you?”
Symeon stood up with a smile. “Sure. What can I do you for?”
“Is that crepe batter I see?” Tuck pointed at a stainless steel tub that I had totally overlooked.
“As a matter of fact it is,” Symeon said as he ladled a circle of the batter onto the griddle. “Sweet or savory?”
I moaned. “I didn’t see you had crepes.”
Daniel laughed beside me. “Split a sweet one.”
I smiled. “Perfect.”
A few minutes later, Tuck had his ham and cheddar crepe in a cone-shaped holder, and Daniel and I were passing a Nutella and banana one back and forth between us as we headed back toward the shop. We’d decided we’d all gather behind the shop at eight forty-five so that we could ride around together to the staging area, which was set up in the parking lot behind Daniel’s garage.
As we passed through my store, Marcus gave me a wave from the register. He was wearing a Peanuts T-shirt with Franklin on the front. “Nice shirt,” I shouted.
“Thanks. My girlfriend bought it for me. Said I could wear the token even if I couldn’t be one.” He laughed, and I saw Rocky giving me a thumbs up behind him.
My heart cracked with joy when I walked out and saw our float. Not only did the float itself look amazing with the huge pumpkin Cate had made and the doghouse that Woody and I had crafted, but everyone in costume made me so happy. Daniel had slipped on his bald cap as we walked out, and now with a sharpied curly-cue of hair on his head and his yellow T-shirt with the brown stripe, he looked perfect. Bear was hunched over his toy piano, with Henri as Marcie by his side. Mart and Tiffany were sitting at the front of the float with their gigantic wigs and the exact outfits that Lucy and Sally wore in most of the show’s episodes. And Woody was at the very back end of the trailer, and when I looked at him, he tossed a handful of powder in the air, swathing himself in a cloud of dust. Pig-Pen incarnate. Mom and Dad had bowed out on the pretense that the float was becoming overcrowded and their presence would only “dilute the effect.” I wasn’t upset. In fact, my sometimes-too-serious parents might have disrupted our silliness game big time.
Daniel went over and untied Mayhem and Taco from the telephone pole where we’d left them with water and helped Mayhem into her costume. That dog was so good-natured that she let us slip a giant yellow cowl on her head before we lifted her to her place next to Mart. Taco, however, was not as easy-going. He was not eager to climb up onto his fancy dog bed on the doghouse . . . until we showed him that Tiffany was holding an entire bag of bacon bits. Then, he was very eager.
I pulled the jar of pomade out of the tote full of candy I had brought to throw to the crowd and gave my hair a good slicking to straighten it out a bit. Then, I climbed up onto the float, leaned a hip against Taco’s doghouse, and braced myself.
* * *
The parade was a blast. People loved our float, and of course, Taco, Mayhem, and Pig-Pen stole the show. I gave out all my candy in the first ten minutes, but fortunately, Mart had planned ahead and stashed lots of hard candies around us. So we threw candy and waved, and the sign advertising the store at the back flapped in the wind the whole time. I saw a lot of faces I knew in the crowd, but there were far more visitors than residents, so by the time we parked back behind the shop, I was hopeful we’d have a good weekend of sales.
And if the crowd inside was any indication, it was going to be our best weekend yet. It didn’t hurt that we had the toddler-sized “First In Parade” Blue Ribbon now on display in the window.
Marcus was ringing up a huge purchase of what looked to be the Warrior Cats series for a young girl and her mother, and other customers were all around the store. He had things well in hand, but Rocky was swamped. I quickly dropped my tote behind the register and went to help her out by ringing sales. I couldn’t froth up a Snoopy, but I could count change.
As the parade crowd started to wander in, Mart took over at the register for Marcus so that he could help customers find books, and Daniel helped her bag purchases. Henri had to get back to her art studio at the co-op to give tours, but Bear hung around and helped stack books that got left around the shop. A few minutes later, Pickle came in, and soon he and Bear were escorting customers around the store and making them laugh at the same time.
When the crowd finally wound down a bit, I went to inspect the goodie bag tables out front and heard fits of laughter. I peeked around the corner into the parking lot and saw Woody, dust cloud ablazing, with a crowd around him like he was a magician at a child’s birthday party. “Who knew that my piles of lathe dust would be such a hit?” he said.
“Oh, that’s what that is. I wondered if you’d been gathering dust from our neighbors to have such a supply.”
He laughed and tossed another handful. “By the way, Cate has a surprise for you. She’s sending Lucas with it shortly, she said.”
I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. “Do you know what the surprise is, sir?”
“I have delivered my message,” he looked at the crowd of children gathered around him, “but now if you’ll excuse me, my fan club awaits.” Another puff of dust went into the air as I turned to head back to the store.
I didn’t have to wait long to learn about Cate’s surprise. Within a few minutes, Lucas, Stephen, and Walter had appeared in front of the shop with the giant pumpkin behind them on a wagon. From my spot at the register – Mart had needed to head to the winery to prepare for the fundraiser – I could see they parked it on the sidewalk next to the front door, and a minute later, Stephen came in and said, “We need your muscles.”
I furrowed my brown, shrugged at Marcus, and headed out. There, Walter stood with a sledgehammer. He grinned at me and put the handle in my hands. “The honor is all yours,” he said as he pointed at Cate’s beautiful pumpkin.
“What?! No. I’m not destroying that. It’s too beautiful.” I tried to hand the sledge back to Walter, who refused it by putting his hands behind his back.
“You heard the man. Smash the thing,” Cate said as she stepped through the crowd toward me. “I can make you a new one, but you need to smash this one.”
I stared at my tiny friend, and she nodded again. So I swung the hammer over my head and let it fall against the top of the pumpkin, where it promptly glanced off and sent me flying against the planter box behind me. I reached back to steady myself and my hand slipped down into the coleus leaves. That’s when I felt a blaze of heat run up my fingers.
When I pulled my hand out of the planter, I was bleeding . . . and holding a huge knife.
10
Lucas looked from me to the knife and back to me again. “Drop it,” he said as he walked toward me briskly and put his body between the planter and the crowd.
Stephen swooped in with the literal shirt off his back and wrapped up my bleeding fingers, and Walter whisked the hammer out of my hands. We had an audience, and it wouldn’t do for business to have the crowd scared by a bloody knife. My friends knew this before I had even fully registered what happened.
“Oh man, looks like Harvey has suffered a pumpkin-related injury, folks. Looks like Walter and I will have to do the honors,” Cate said. “On the count of three. One. Two. Three.” As she said three, Walter swung the sledgehammer against the side of the pumpkin, and it broke open, spilling candy all over the sidewalk.
“Enjoy, everyone,” Cate said as tiny hands – and not so tiny ones – grabbed for the Smarties
and SweeTARTS that had filled the entire massive pumpkin. The town would be on a sugar high for a week.
I noticed all of this, of course, but I couldn’t do much about it, what with the bleeding and all. So I let Woody and his less intense puff of dirt escort me inside to the shop’s backroom, where he quickly grabbed Rocky to tend me and then got our first aid kit from behind the register. Within minutes, the cut across my three middle fingers was cleaned and bandaged and Daniel was on his way to drive me to the ER in Easton to see if I needed stitches.
Meanwhile, Tuck was already on hand and had bagged the knife and was asking Cate, now that the crowd had thinned, along with the candy, what had happened. “I’m not sure, exactly. She just pulled up her hand, and there was a knife in it.” Cate stared at me, and I smiled, although I imagine it came out as more of a wince.
“I don’t know what happened exactly,” I said as Tuck pulled a chair up beside me. “I fell against the planter, and when I went to steady myself, I must have grabbed ahold of the knife.”
Tuck wrote something brief in his notepad. “And Elle just filled those boxes yesterday, right? I saw her out there during the fair, I think.”
I nodded. “Yep, so someone must have dropped the knife there since then.” I tried to wiggle my fingers and felt a lance of pain run up my hand. “But why? Why would someone hide a knife in my planter boxes?”
Tuck blew a rough breath out and stared at me. “Have you been asking questions, Harvey?”
I stared back at him, trying to figure out what he was talking about. “Questions? Questions about what? I don’t know what you mean.”
A tiny wrinkle formed between the sheriff’s eyebrows. “You haven’t been sleuthing about Coach Cagle?”
I blushed. “Not really. I mean Symeon was telling me you questioned him last night, but . . . wait! Is that the knife that?” I felt bile rise up in my throat. “Do I have his blood . . . ?” I felt like I was going to pass out, so I put my head down between my legs like they used to tell me to do in gym class when I overdid it with the jump rope and felt faint.
“Deep breaths, Harvey. The hospital will test you and make sure you’re okay, but the coach didn’t have any communicable diseases.” Tuck’s voice was professional, which I found soothing.
“You mean he didn’t have HIV,” Cate said.
“Right. He didn’t have HIV. They’ll give you antibiotics and test everything at the hospital, Harvey. It’s okay.” The sheriff was rubbing small circles on my back.
I tried to shake my head to say I wasn’t worried – well, I hadn’t been worried about HIV. More it was just the idea of someone else’s blood in my body, but now I just wanted to get to the hospital and get checked out. The cut was one thing – an illness was entirely another. “Where’s Daniel?”
“I’m right here,” he said as he rushed in and knelt beside me. “Let’s go get you looked at, okay?” He kissed my temple as he helped me to my feet. “Someone call Mart?”
“Already on it,” Cate said as she squeezed my forearm. “Lucas is going to stay and help Marcus and Rocky with the store, and Bear and PIckle are taking care of things outside.”
“I’m staying too,” Woody said, “just in case.”
“We’ve got the shop, Harvey. See you in a little while,” Rocky added as the three of us walked to the back door.
I tried to smile with enthusiasm as I left, but I felt so light-headed and weak that I’m sure I wasn’t convincing. I wasn’t squeamish about seeing blood or anything, but the idea that I’d – well, I couldn’t even think about it.
On the ride to the hospital, Daniel asked me a few questions, mostly about how things were going at the shop with the festival, and I appreciated that he didn’t push me on the knife stuff. I didn’t feel like talking much though, so despite his quiet nature, he managed to ramble on about his own morning after the parade. He’d set up a small car clinic beside his garage to show locals how to change oil and fill the washer fluid – basic car skills. “Don’t worry, though. Ollie took over.”
I smiled, then, remembering the kid who lived in the basement of Stephen and Walter’s house. We’d helped him out of a bind a few months ago. “Ollie knows how to change the oil in a car?”
“I know, right? Turns out he worked at one of those quick-change car places for a while. He knows a lot.” Daniel continued to prattle on about the locals – including Daniel’s favorite customer, Mrs. Fenster, who had apparently managed to put seven thousand miles on her car in the last two months despite the fact that she claimed only to drive to the dollar store and back home. Someday we’d solve that mystery. Today, I was content to let Daniel talk so I didn’t have to think.
At the hospital, the doctor checked my cut and butterflied it closed. No stitches required. I got two weeks’ worth of antibiotics just in case and was told to soak the cut every night in warm soapy water to speed healing. Then, they sent me home. I was in and out in fifteen minutes. Slow day in the ER.
Daniel wanted to take me home. “I’ll put on that Travelers show you’ve been wanting me to watch with you, get you a bowl of mint chip ice cream, and spend the afternoon trying to figure out why you like sci-fi tv so much. What do you say?”
That sounded so lovely, but I knew I needed to be at the store. This was, hands-down, the biggest sales day in our almost-one-year history as a bookstore, and I didn’t want to miss it. “I need to be at the store, Daniel.” Before he could protest, I raised my wounded hand and said, “But I will rest there, okay? I’ll just answer questions and fill goodie bags, okay?”
Daniel sighed, but he agreed. And soon I was installed in a wing chair near the front of the store with a small table in front of me. Woody penned me a sign that said, “Ask the Owner,” and I spent the afternoon in a delightful series of conversations with customers. In some ways, it was the perfect way for me to spend the afternoon.
By later in the afternoon, I had eaten two of Rocky’s mom’s cinnamon rolls and had my two other Peanuts’-themed lattes, although on Rocky’s suggestion I made the third of the day a decaf. Marcus, with the help of Lucas, Bear, and Pickle, had kept the store humming. We’d even managed to sell some of the legal and medical books that Bear and Pickle had suggested I carry because they had so enthusiastically recommended them. I was especially grateful to move along the copy of Gray’s Anatomy that Bear had recommended we carry, and I loved that a teenage girl with cinnamon skin and a nose ring had bought it to use for her illustrations and caricatures. Bear looked pleased, too. “At least their kidneys will be in the right place,” he said as he told me about the sale.
Mart had called five times to check in, and she kept telling me to skip the gala tonight, that she and Tiffany could manage. I wanted to go, though. It sounded like fun, and I was more than a little invested in the cause given what I was learning about Coach Cagle. Besides, I thought maybe I could get a little more information out of Tiffany, see if I could exonerate her, I hoped. Finally, I convinced Mart that it would be better if I went, that it would keep my mind off my hand, and she arranged to have me manage the silence auction, a task I could do with minimal use of my hand. “Besides, you were a fundraiser for years. Maybe you can get the bid up.”
“I can definitely do that. See you at six,” I told my best friend and looked at my watch. It was four thirty, which meant I had just enough time to get home, feed Mayhem and myself, and get into my one and only fancy dress, before Tiffany arrived to go to the winery. I was glad I hadn’t cut my foot because limping was not an option given what the next ninety minutes demanded.
I checked in with Marcus, who was totally on top of everything, even with three of his trusty assistants gone. “Woody and I have got this, Harvey. You just go enjoy yourself.” He patted my uninjured hand.
“And be sure to take a selfie in that dress,” Rocky shouted from the café.
I rolled my eyes and whistled for Mayhem. She and Taco trotted out from their sleeping place of choice behind the psychology section, and I hooke
d up their leashes before carefully placing them in my left hand. I hoped no errant rabbits crossed our path on the way home because my left hand was nowhere near strong enough to keep two dogs from bolting after their prey.
I needn’t have worried, though, because I was barely out the door when Daniel caught up to me and took the leashes. “I heard you were going to be hotter than usual tonight,” he said as he took hold of my hand. “Mind if I escort you?”
I sighed. “Mart texted you.”
“Of course. I am officially on the guest list as the ‘Silent Auction Attendant’s Valet.’“
“Ooh la la,” I said. “I’ve never been so fancy, but you, sir, are not nearly fancy enough.” I looked at his oil-stained coveralls. “Unless you’re about to pull a James Bond on me and say you have a tux under those things.”
He laughed. “You only wish.” He glanced over his left shoulder at the street. “But it’s almost as good.”
Just then, Ollie biked up and, without stopping, handed Daniel a suit bag. “Have fun,” Ollie said as he pedaled away and left me standing there with my mouth open.
“That was incredible,” I said with a laugh.
“I aim to please,” Daniel said. “Now, let’s get home and get gussied up.”
* * *
When Tiffany arrived, I was sitting on the couch alternating mouthfuls of cheddar cheese-covered rice and M&Ms. The fact that I hadn’t bothered to decant the candy from the giant tub Mart had picked up at the warehouse store spoke to the way the day had finally gotten to me. I was still looking forward to the night, but I was tired, physically and psychologically.
Tiffany looked about the way I felt. Her dress was gorgeous – bright red silk that draped and hugged beautifully on her long, lean runner’s body. Earlier in my life, I might have been jealous or self-conscious in the company of a woman who fit the stereotypes of beauty that Americans treasured, but a few decades of self-care, a few relationships with women who were gorgeous physically but atrocious as people, and a few really hard conversations that revealed all women struggle with our own sense of beauty and I found myself feeling pretty good about how I looked in my empire-waisted black dress with a tulle underlay. The thin band of silver sequins along my rib cage made me feel dressed up but was still true to my no-frills personal style.
