by Jacquie Gee
That's all we need is to set him off.
The Heartland Cove International Potato Festival is less than twelve hours away now. I've almost allowed myself to breathe.
When the gates formerly open, that's when I’ll finally relax.
I dump far too much sugar in my cup, pull up a chair, and join the rest around the table.
“We’ve got everything covered?” I ask.
“Almost?” Aunt Penny gulps. I’m not gonna lie; her expression has me worried. My heart takes momentary flights.
She glances down the list in her hand then back up at me. “We’re short a booth operator for the dunk tank, and we need more than one person to run the cotton candy booth. Agatha Mills dropped out yesterday, something about a bad hip.”
“Well, we can’t have that.”
“Agatha Mills? She must be, ninety.” Mom makes a face.
“All the more reason she shouldn’t be in a cotton candy booth.” I pull the paper over to me.
“Most of our volunteers are that age,” Aunt Penny says. “Most of the town is that age.” Aunt Penny raises a quick brow in my direction, as if to say, Hey, I’m almost that age?
“Well, this is easy.” I tap the papers. “I’ll do it.”
“Nonsense,” Trudy snaps. “You’ll be far too busy overseeing the whole operation.”
“Then, I’ll do it.” Mom chirps up.
“You can’t do that,” I snap, reflexively, then realize my faux pas. “I mean, you’ll be too busy manning the front gates. Isn’t that where we put her, Aunt Penny?” I look to her for support.
“Actually, your mother’s running the pony race for the kids.”
“Oh. There. You see.” I pat her on the hand. “Far too busy.”
“I’ll do it,” Trudy speaks up.
“You can’t.” Aunt Penny glares. “We need you on the mic, overseeing all the entertainment.”
“Why don’t I just ask one of the neighborhood kids,” Pamela suggests.
“You can’t. There needs to be an adult in the booth at all times. Safety regulations,” Trudy huffs.
“Well, then, we’ll have to ask someone else, and by someone else I mean, the only person who doesn’t have a duty assigned to them yet.” Aunt Penny cocks a wiry brow.
“No,” Trudy snaps, which I’ve never heard her do before. “No. I refuse.”
“We’ve no other choice. Every other body’s been used up.”
“I’d rather work a triple shift than ask her for help.” Trudy folds her arms.
“Am I missing something here?” I make a face.
I look around the table. Smug expressions bloom.
“You’re not thinking—”
“That’s right. She’s thinking Vera Williams,” Trudy spits.
“Oh, my.” I slide back in my chair. “Oh, I don’t know.” I think about the emails that Trent intercepted and deceit behind it all. “I don’t’ think she’s a team player, to be honest. She might cause trouble.”
“She causes more trouble running around loose with her darned camera,” Aunt Penny growls.
“We’ve avoided including her until this point,” Trudy insists.
“I’m afraid now, she’s the only option we’ve got left,” Aunt Penny says.
“I’d rather we ask Jebson Jefferies to man the booth,” Mother mumbles as she folds her arms.
Aunt Penny glares at me like she’s just been lit on fire. “Everyone else is double booked. We have no choice but to ask her. Besides, she should have to help out.”
“I’d rather just do it myself. After what happened at the calendar shoot. I don’t think she can be trusted.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Mom slides back in her chair. “That shot of your boyfriend turned out pretty well, I think.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.” I scowl in her direction.
“All right. Plaything. Project. Whatever you’re calling him.” She flips up her hands.
“Mother, please,” I swat at her and she ducks away from me, laughing.
Clearly, she’s on today, back to her normal, cajoling self.
The others laugh too, and the threat of including Mrs. Williams in the plan seems to dissipate into thin air, though it’s still roiling around in my gut.
“You have to admit, the photo she chose for the centerfold spread was surprisingly effective.” Mom snickers.
“Been enjoying that, have you?” I eye her hard.
I’d been responsible for selecting all the final photos that went into the calendar, and I made great choices, then sent them back to Vera to complete and send in. That’s when she double crossed me and handed an alternate photo, requesting a full-page centerfold spread for Trent instead of a monthly page. When the calendar was released, she acted like she didn’t have a clue about what happened, claiming she hadn’t noticed the little piece of manliness that had been captured by her lens, when his flipper shifted momentarily out of place.
That little piece of heaven ended up causing quite the controversy. Not to mention a spike in calendar sales that you wouldn’t believe. In the end, it benefited the cause to the tune of ten thousand extra dollars, but Trent still won’t talk to me.
Pamela says, he’s basically over it, but at first, he was hopping mad. It wasn’t until the festival’s Facebook feed blew up with comments, all favorable of course, that he could see the advantage, and settled down.
What’s a little porn among friends anyway? I gulp.
“So, we’re all agreed. We stick Vera in the cotton candy truck, where we know where she is,” Trudy blurts. “We might as well make her sweat if we’re gonna use her.” She writes it down. “It’s always bloody ninety degrees in there. It’s a great place for her.” She dramatically dots her ‘i.' "Next order of business?" she says.
Aunt Penny runs a quick finger down a chart of last minute issues she’s created. “I can probably cover the dunk tank.” She looks up. “I’ve only got an hour between that and the Caber Toss.”
“I can do it.” Pamela jumps in.
“Anything else?” I look around. Any more surprises and I swear… this has been a long haul. Planning an event of this magnitude is like putting out a forest fire in mid-July. Every time you think you have it covered another hot spot flares. Mom could never have done this on her own.
“Nope, that appears to be everything.” Aunt Penny looks up.
Trudy sorts through the pile of scattered papers, receipts and chicken scratch that coats the top of the kitchen table, then looks up. “Yep. I think that’s it. We've finally managed to pull this all together!” Her face morphs from exhausted, to pleased. “Once we’ve got the old gossipbag on board, everything’ll be done.”
“Done!” Pamela shouts, snapping her phone from her pocket.
“You?” I say.
“Might as well. I’m the one that got prissy Barbara Stanley to sign up for pie throwing duty.”
Mom leans forward telling me, like a child sharing a secret. “If I called, she’d hang up,” she laughs. “Oh, and I got Ada Andrews to man the front gates for the opening session, even though she insisted she’d make a better taffy apple slinger,” Mom adds.
“That’s wonderful, Mom.” I smile.
“What about the telethon on Sunday evening? Are we ready for that?” I look to Trudy.
“As a matter of fact, yes, your mother came up with a grand idea.” She glances Mom’s way.
Mom’s mouth wrinkles up into a ball of happiness. “We’re gonna televise it. That way, people who can’t make the festival can still tune in and donate. We’ve arranged for three local stations to air it in two-hour time slots on Sunday night—”
“You mean, I arranged for it to be televised.” Mom pokes her chest. “And it’s been picked up on PBC,” she adds, proudly.
“How much did that cost us?”
“All the rest of what we had.” Trudy flashes me an accomplished look. "But I think your mother's right. It'll pay us back ten-fold.”.
“Well lo
ok at you.” I nudge Mom’s shoulder. “Just thinking of everything, aren’t you?” Mom and I share a quick glance, then I whisper to Trudy. “One of us should be there to supervise.” She agrees.
“At any rate, the whole thing’s done and arranged and ready to go. Oh, and they’re also going to tape and televise the Magic Michael show.”
“They’re what?” My head cranks around. I’d promised Trent no extra eyes. Not even Aunt Penny, Mom, Trudy, Pamela, or I were to attend.
“Did you get signed permissions from all the guys?” I look at her, alarmed.
“No,” she answers shakily. “I was relying on your motto of act first and ask questions later.” She bites her lip.
“Aunt Penny?”
“Oh, come, on, you have to admit it should bring the customers in. Besides, what the guys don’t know won’t kill them, right?”
“But they might kill me!” I look to the rest of them. “I don’t think we should—”
"What's the difference, honestly?” Trudy blurts. “They’ve already done the calendar. And it’s all over the place out there. Heck, Trent’s photo went viral.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“Trudy’s right. The damage is already done. What’s another layer?” Aunt Penny flashes a smile.
“You girls.” I point a finger at each of them. “You crafty little girls.”
“The public station’s agreed to give it its own prime time slot. Sunday evening at nine.” Pamela grins. “We stand to make a killing.”
“If worse comes to worse you can blame it on me,” Mom offers.
The table falls silent.
“All right.” I finally give in to peer pressure. “But if someone gets miffed, I’m totally blaming you, Mom.” I turn to her.
“What did you say? What are you talking about?” She screws up her face, looking confused, playing with me.
I reach out pulling her into a hug, crushing her to my side.
“Are we set then?” I ask. “No more surprises?” I hold my breath.
“Nope. That’s it. I think we are ready to go.” Trudy straightens her papers and slaps them on the tabletop.
“Wonderful.” I smile at the rest.
Mom reaches over, throwing her arms around my neck, her bones collapsing against me under the force. “Mmmwah!” She makes a spectacle of kissing me hard on the cheek. “Thank you, my darling!” she says.
“I’m glad I could help, Mom,” I say, kissing her back.
“Help? You’ve saved the day.” She draws in a shallow breath
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We still have to pull this off.” My stomach seizes at the thought. I scan the rest of the faces in the group, each looking as nervous as I feel.
Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.
“This just in.” Pamela looks up from her phone. “Fred Leckie of Leckie Home Appliances has just donated a new microwave to the prize bin. You can thank me later.” She drops her phone to the table.
Chapter 44
The next morning comes with its fair share of nerves, but we lucked out. It’s a beautiful day, it’s a gorgeous one. Bright, sunny, seventy-five degrees. A true blessing, since last night, the news was calling for rain.
Trent said it was bullocks. I should have believed him. I probably would have gotten more sleep.
I hover in the middle of the dusty midway, clipboard clutched to my chest, spinning in tight, elated, but overwhelmed circles. There’s so much to do, I don’t know what to do first. The festival is already teeming with visitors, and it’s only nine-thirty. I can’t believe my luck—our luck.
“Omigye!” Trudy barrels up to me. She catches me by the arm, squeezing it tight.
“What? What is it?”
“Deloris Petit, at the entrance gate, reports we’ve already hand-clicked in over two thousand three hundred visitors. And we’ve only been open an hour!” We clap a solid high-five and jump up and down, high-pitched squeee-ing as we skip around in circles.
A scratchy speaker interrupts our joy. “Still time to sign up for the greased-pig catch contest, over at the sow-central corral, located in the rear of the midway, folks!” Aunt Penny’s slightly shredded voice crackles over it. “Catch a generously greased piglet, and hold it for thirty full seconds, for a chance to win a brand new big screen TV!” The crowd mumbles their approval. “Head on over to the hog barn right now and sign up for a chance. Just ten dollars a participant!”
“We’re charging for that?”
“We’re charging for everything,” Trudy giggles.
Three kids at the candy shack in front of us, shriek and start running. I can’t help myself, I laugh.
“People are just having such a great time, aren’t they?” Trudy smiles. “This is so great! So very wonderful. So, YAY!” She throws out her hands and hugs me tight. “Thank you. For everything you’ve done.”
“Me, I never would have pulled this off, without you.” We spin, surveying the smiles on passing faces as we turn.
“Miss Lane.” Jebson passes by, tipping his hat, as he floats through the crowd.
I break from our hug. “What is he doing here?”
“I dunno,” Trudy says under her breath.
“He insisted.” Aunt Penny fills in the gap, stepping in beside us.
“Insisted?” I turn mean eyes on her. “What are you talking about?”
“As mayor of Heartland Cove.” She tilts her head. “What could I do? He argued he should have the honor of kicking off the event, which just happens to be the greased-pig chase.”
“You’re kidding me. So you told him he could?” My hands slam my hips.
“I didn’t know what to do. He is the Mayor, after all.” She throws out her hands. “I mean, he does have a point. What would it look like if the Mayor of the town wasn’t here, at an International event?”
“It would look like we hate the Mayor of the town,” Trudy says.
“We’ve blasted it all over the internet how he’s against all of this, and you let him speak,” I scold Aunt Penny.
“I’m sorry.” She shrugs. “I didn’t know what to do. Besides, he promised he’d just express gratitude to all the new visitors who’ve come to the event and then leave.”
“I’m sure that’s all he’ll do.” I glare in his direction.
“New visitors?” Trudy balks. “Like any of that was his doing.” She huffs. “I couldn’t hate that man any more.”
“Okay. What’s done is done.” I settle down, still tracking Jebson’s every movement across the fairground. “All eyes on him while he’s here. Do you understand me?” I tell Aunt Penny. “He gives his speech, and then he’s out of here.”
“Right.” She nods and swallows hard.
I feel bad for making her feel bad, but honestly, I can’t believe she’d do this. She’s basically set the fox loose in the henhouse here. “Who’s that walking with Mom?” I narrow my eyes, turning my attention that way.
In the distance, Mom strolls along with a man I’ve never seen before. He’s slight of build, with dark black hair.
“Oh, that’s the guy who volunteered to help out with the candy floss booth, last minute.” Trudy offers.
“When?”
“Yesterday, after we were planning. He just showed up at the door. And it was a good thing too because the Queen of Zaire refused us.”
“How do you know him?” I look to her confused.
“I don’t. Never seen him before in my life.”
“Then how do you know you can trust him?”
“I thought you did.” Trudy scowls. “He said he was a friend of the family.”
I turn to look again, but they’ve disappeared in the dust and the crowd. Maybe it’s possible. Maybe it’s a friend of Mom’s.
The speaker goes off again, announcing another event. “I’ve gotta go,” Trudy says, checks her watch. “I’ve gotta help set up for the caber toss.” She scurries away.
My eyes fix on Jebson. Somebody outta be hog-tying him.
<
br /> “I’m sorry,” Aunt Penny says again. “It’s all right,” I say. “As long as you get rid of him.”
“I will. I promise.”
A group of teenagers happens past wearing t-shirts that make me laugh.
Spare a Guy. Kiss a Lobster
And…
You Haven’t Lived Until You’ve Shucked a Crustacean.
“Where did those come from?” I point them out to Aunt Penny.
“Oh, Miss Gibbs loaned ’em to us from the high school.”
“No, not the kids, the T-shirts.”
“Oh, the kids made them. Cute, aren’t they?”
"Wow, the whole town’s really gotten involved, haven't they?"
“And well they should. That bridge goes down, it’s the end of all of us.”
“Hey, you guys!” I holler after the kids. “Have enough hotdogs to make it through the day?”
“Hot dog?” One scowls back. “You mean, Lobster Pops.” He holds one up in the air. A glob of golden brown, fried battered clings to a stick.
“Oh, right. I forgot.” I laugh.
You’re not in New York anymore, Dorothy, I remind myself.
Voices shout, engines roar. Laughing faces whip past. Sunshine emanates from every corner. I allow myself a moment to smile. Things are going well. Super well. As long as… my gaze locks back onto Jebson.
“I’ve got my ticket to Magic Michael tonight?” Aunt Penny interrupts, producing a bright sparkly slip from her pocket.
“How did you get that? You’re not supposed to have one of those.” I try to snatch it, but she ducks. “None of us are. I promised Trent. You know that.”
“Oh, come on,” Aunt Penny smirks. “Like he’ll see us in the crowd. Besides, it’s all gonna be televised.” She falls into laughter. I swat her. “Please, don’t tell me you don’t have one in your pocket.”
“Well, now that you mention it.” I sheepishly pull one out. We share a giggle, like two school girls who got away with something. “But only because I wanted to contribute to the fund.” I snap my chin up.
