Coming to Rosemont

by Barbara Hinske

  “Let’s not overcomplicate things,” she said. “Unless something is really pricey, I think you should start everything at ten dollars. No one will quibble about spending that for a good cause, and everything is surely worth at least that,” she suggested reasonably.

  With agreement on this issue, Maggie extricated herself and made her way over to where Sam and John were setting up the games. “We’re good to go,” Sam called out to her. The three of them surveyed the hustle and bustle before them.

  “The bake sale area is ready. Joan and Laura are there, and Beth is helping Tonya get the popcorn machine started. I think we’ve done it,” Sam said with considerable pride.

  “Looks like Alex and Marc are still hiding eggs,” Maggie observed.

  “Let’s go lend them a hand,” John suggested. As they headed across the lawn, he said, “I hoped to get a quiet moment alone with you. I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed meeting Susan and how much fun I had working with her last night. She’s a terrific young woman, Maggie. Smart, articulate, funny, kind. Whoever broke her heart and let her go is a fool.”

  Maggie smiled at him. She was about to reply when Susan dropped down out of a tree not more than six feet ahead of them. Susan let out a whoop of laughter at their startled expressions. She was dusting herself off and straightening her hoodie as Maggie asked, “What on earth were you doing in that tree?”

  “Hiding eggs, of course, Mom,” she said with an exaggerated eye roll. “What else would I be doing? We can’t have them all be easy and out in the open. Some councilman just dropped off an iPad and a bunch of fast-food coupons to hand out at the door. He seemed nice—said he’d be back shortly. We’re using the iPad as the main prize for winning the hunt. I wish I could play,” she added wistfully.

  “An iPad?” Maggie asked. “I had no idea. Frank Haynes called last night. Sorry—I forgot to tell you. He promised to drop them off this morning. This is terrific! The silent auction items were good, too. I’m going to bid on the spa day at The Mill. And baking lessons that Laura is offering. There’s also manis and pedis and haircuts, all kinds of things. People have been very generous.”

  “So,” John said. “Where are the rest of the eggs? It’s almost nine thirty. We need to get them hidden and be ready to open by ten. People are lining up already,” he said, gesturing in the direction of the entrance banner.

  ***

  The sun was shimmering in a brilliant blue sky by ten o’clock that Saturday morning. A light breeze kept the temperature comfortable. The grass that had been slippery and wet at dawn was dry and the lawn was packed. Attendance exceeded expectations. Tim sent word that they had admitted six hundred and fifty-three people and he was projecting a generous take on the admission donations. Most families were dropping a twenty in the barrel; very few people were only contributing a dollar. Frank Haynes casually tossed a fifty-dollar bill at the bucket, missed his mark, and allowed a bystander to retrieve it for him. When the young man exclaimed, “A fifty! We don’t want to let this one blow away!” Haynes affected a modest tone and assured the man—and two others next to him who weren’t listening—that it was nothing. It was the very least he could do for the deserving workers of this fine town. One of the men caught Tim’s attention and rolled his eyes. Tim responded with a slight shrug and smiled. If Haynes wanted recognition, so be it. Counting Haynes’ fifty, they would collect more than three thousand dollars at the gate.

  The start of the egg hunt was delayed by half an hour to allow everyone lined up at the entrance to get in and in place. Maggie counted over two hundred children between the ages of two and twelve lined up to participate. Tonya’s husband was on hand to announce the start of the hunt. George Holmes climbed a tree stump and towered his six-foot-six-inch frame over the crowd. He raised his right arm and announced in a booming baritone, “Ready, set, go!” bringing his arm down with a flourish, and they were off.

  The hunt was scheduled to take twenty minutes. Most children, especially the younger ones, were happy when they had collected two or three eggs and retired from the field. Ten minutes into the hunt, there were only a handful of children still actively looking for eggs. By the fifteen-minute mark, that number had dwindled to two determined children, a rangy twelve-year-old boy who clearly had the height advantage and a diminutive eight-year-old girl with a mop of blond curls and large glasses. When the buzzer signaled the end, both of them had thirty-one eggs in their basket.

  No one had planned for a tie. Marc proposed that they flip a coin for the grand prize, but the girl wouldn’t hear of it. “Nope,” she said. “Won’t work. We should have sudden death like they do in sports.”

  Maggie, Marc, and Alex quickly put their heads together. This seemed reasonable. They knew that Susan’s egg remained hidden in the tree, so there was at least one left to find. The boy seemed to favor this solution, too, so they turned the children loose again with the proviso that they would flip a coin at the end of five minutes if neither of them found another egg. Otherwise, the first to find an egg would be crowned the champion of the First Annual Rosemont Egg Hunt, as everyone was now referring to it.

  The girl spotted the bright orange plastic egg almost immediately. She had to climb the tree to reach it, and was not, as it turned out, a natural tree-climber. The boy sauntered over and plucked the egg out of the tree with his naturally long arms just as she was making headway up the branch. The gathered crowd drew in a collective breath. This seemed like cheating, since she spotted it first. But was it really? He got there first. While the onlookers were contemplating this moral dilemma, the boy settled the question by dropping the egg in her basket, to the cheers of the crowd.

  George was climbing back onto the tree stump to announce the winner when Haynes stepped out of the crowd and motioned him down. They engaged in a brief conversation and George resumed his post. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,” he boomed. “I’ve always wanted to say that. I sound like a circus barker, don’t I?” He smiled across the crowd. “We’ve had both a stupendous feat of egg-finding and a moving feat of sportsmanship here today. The winner of the First Annual Rosemont Egg Hunt, with thirty-two eggs, is Miss Alita Firestone. Alita is in the third grade at Horton Elementary. Alita—congratulations—come get your brand new iPad.”

  Alita, suddenly shy with all eyes on her, had to be pushed forward by her father who finally gave up and accompanied her to retrieve her prize. Haynes, seeing an opportunity for good publicity, stepped forward to be photographed presenting the iPad in a picture that would appear in the Sunday paper.

  “But that’s not all,” George continued. “Thanks to our own Councilman Frank Haynes, we have a cash award for Superior Sportsmanlike Conduct during an Egg Hunt. That award—the generous sum of one hundred dollars—goes to Mr. Brian Gordon. Please put your hands together for Brian,” and the crowd went wild. A surprised Brian came forward to awkwardly shake Haynes’ hand and happily receive his cash gift. Haynes clamped an arm around Brian’s shoulder and kept it there while he posed for another photo.

  The crowd disbursed. Haynes was talking to a reporter as Maggie approached to thank him for his spur-of-the-moment donation of the cash prize. She drew up behind him, waiting patiently for him to finish his statement, and was stunned to hear him say, “Yes. We’ve all come together to make this happen. The merchants and the new owner of Rosemont were one hundred percent behind the council’s efforts to raise money for the pension fund. We couldn’t have done this without their hard work. The council has always had strong backing from the community.”

  Maggie’s shock blossomed into anger. What a weasel. He’s taking credit for all of this! she seethed. Haynes had that cockroach-in-the-kitchen-when-the-light-comes-on look when he turned to find her at his elbow. “Hello, Frank,” she said. She turned to introduce herself to the reporter. “Maggie Martin. I’m the new owner of Rosemont. I was just coming over to thank the councilman for his contributions this morning. We were thrilled to get his call last night, offering to don
ate prizes. We weren’t aware that the council even knew about our carnival. We’re glad that he came out today to support us.” The reporter looked a bit confused and licked her lips. Haynes recovered himself and turned to the photographer before she could formulate a follow-up question.

  “How about a photo of our lovely hostess and me with Rosemont in the background?” he suggested. “I’m sure Mrs. Martin and I both want everyone to know how pleased we are that the community has been so generous in its support.” Maggie knew she had lost this round. The newspaper story needed to be about the success of the carnival and not about petty bickering between her and Haynes. When the photographer finished, Maggie leaned in to Haynes and whispered, “We’re not done with this. You should be ashamed of yourself for taking credit for everyone else’s hard work. They’re going to be furious.”

  “I think you’ve misunderstood, Mrs. Martin,” he said smoothly. “Why don’t you let me buy you a cup of coffee tomorrow so we can sort things out? We can meet at Pete’s and you can bring that nice dog of yours with you. I like to keep track of Forever Friends alums,” he said, and Maggie’s spine prickled unpleasantly. Was he trying to use his kindness about Eve as a quid pro quo for taking credit for the carnival? He held his hand up to block the sun from his eyes so she could only see the thin smile directed at her.

  A group of children barreled between them and they hastily stepped apart. Haynes dropped his hand and Maggie detected a flash of anger in his eyes before he purposefully resumed his affable expression. “My daughter’s in town from California this week, so I’m completely booked. Maybe another time.”

  He shrugged dismissively and slithered into the crowd.

  ***

  The games started up at the conclusion of the egg hunt. Children hopped across the lawn in pillowcases. The longest Hula-Hoop spin was won by a woman of indeterminate age from Fairview Terraces, an assisted-living village across town that deposited a busload of seniors itching for a good time. She told the crowd she used a Hula-Hoop every day for exercise. She certainly had the technique down pat. She continued long after everyone else’s hoop hit the ground and kept hers going for an astonishing twelve minutes. The raw egg toss tested the skill of the softball players in the crowd, and the three-legged race was popular with families. All in all, there was something for everyone.

  By the end of the afternoon, every item from the bake sale had been sold and, mostly, consumed on the spot. The silent auction winners were announced. Everything brought more than the minimum bid. The winners were lining up to pay Tim and collect their items. A quick tally showed that the silent auction netted more than six thousand dollars—double what they expected. The incessant bickering between Charlotte and Judy came to an abrupt stop, and they were now tripping over each other to bestow compliments.

  By two thirty, most of the crowd had departed and the off-duty officers were doing a fine job of herding the stragglers and directing traffic out of the neighborhood. Joe Appleby was as good as his word, and he and his crew set to work gathering trash and helping anyone in their path. Once more, the group on the lawn looked like a circus crew, this time breaking camp. Maggie, Tim, and Dottie retired to the library to officially tally the take. The silent auction had brought in $6,892, the bake sale $720, and the voluntary admission donations came in at $4,620. The total was a solid $12,232.

  The three sank back into their chairs and looked at each other in stunned silence. The grin that started with Tim migrated to the other two. “Holy cow,” Dottie blurted out. “I wouldn’t have predicted this in a million years.”

  “Susan and I set a goal of ten thousand, which we created out of whole cloth. We had no idea how we were going to get there. And now we’ve exceeded it. I can’t believe it.”

  Tim looked at Maggie intently. “You got all of this up and running in a little over a week. Mobilized all of us. When I first heard about this, I volunteered my time because I like the people you’re trying to help. But I didn’t think you would even raise a thousand.”

  “I have to agree with Tim,” Dottie said. “The bank sent me here as a public relations gesture. I didn’t think you would need our services. I’m blown away.”

  “And it was a whole lot of fun,” Tim added. “We could see the day unfold from where we sat, and it looked like everyone was having a blast.”

  “The paper sent that young reporter out to cover it. I can’t wait to see what she writes. Which reminds me, I promised to call her with the final tally.” Dottie said, stepping away with cell phone in hand.

  Tim turned back to Maggie. “You know what? You should run for political office. Maybe the next council election. We certainly need new leadership. You’ve got the vision, the will, and the knack of inspiring people to action. We need a fresh perspective around here.”

  Maggie looked at him like he had two heads. “Are you crazy? I’ve never been political in my life, much less run for any kind of public office. No one knows me; no one would ever vote for me.” She laughed. “But thank you for the compliment.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short,” Tim responded. “Think about it. That’s all I’m suggesting.”

  George Holmes announced the grand total from the same stump he had climbed earlier in the day to start the egg hunt. His booming voice reached a crescendo when he said, “Twelve THOUSAND two hundred thirty-two dollars!” The assembled group of volunteers whistled, clapped, and cheered. Maggie waved to get their attention. George jumped down, and he and Alex gave Maggie a hand up onto the stump.

  “Thank you, thank you all,” she said, gesturing for silence. Maggie glanced over at Tim and realized, with a jolt, that she was literally making a stump speech. She cleared her throat and raised her voice. “I can’t believe it, can you?” The crowd responded again with whistles and cheers. She once more signaled for quiet. “Except I really can believe it, come to think of it. I’ve watched all of you for the past few weeks. You are the most caring, capable group of people I’ve ever had the privilege to work with. And I’ve been involved with a lot of community groups.” She paused and scanned the crowd. “This is all due to your efforts. You formed a team to help each other and make it happen. You came up with the ideas. Without any input or follow-up from me. No fanfare, no attention-grabbing. Just people pulling together for the good of their neighbors. I did the least amount of anyone.” At this, a general denial rippled through the crowd. Maggie ignored it and continued. “I’m so proud to be associated with each and every one of you and so thankful I inherited this remarkable house that brought me to all of you. I know that we’ve got problems in Westbury, but with this kind of energy and ingenuity, we can fix anything. Westbury surely has a positive future with all of you involved. So here’s to all of you. Give yourselves a hand,” she concluded as the crowd once more erupted.

  “Now that sounded very much like a campaign speech, young lady,” Tim observed as he helped her down.

  Almost everyone and everything had cleared out before dinnertime. Clouds were stacking up in the western sky and rain was in the overnight forecast. What wasn’t hauled away was stashed under cover on the patio. Maggie and Susan talked about starting to prepare for the next day’s brunch, but in the end were too exhausted and collapsed in front of the TV. They finally got enough energy to get off the couch and go to bed shortly before nine, promising to get started early the next morning.

  Chapter 23

  Maggie groaned when her alarm went off Easter morning. She was flat-out pooped. Why on earth had they planned a party on the day after the carnival? Was she nuts or what? And what possessed them to buy all of that food that required so much preparation? Why hadn’t they stuck to an easier menu? As usual, the thought that with proper planning she could accomplish anything was her undoing. This was the evil side of being well organized. Her reach sometimes exceeded her grasp, and she committed to stuff she shouldn’t. Well, she’d just have to adjust the menu on the fly. She pushed the snooze button one more time and drifted back to sleep.

/>   Yikes! It’s eight thirty, Maggie panicked as she looked at her bedside clock. People would be arriving at eleven, and she was way behind now. She shrugged on her robe, stuck her glasses on her face, and raced down the stairs. When she reached the bottom, she was greeted with the aroma of strong coffee and the murmur of cheerful voices coming from the kitchen.

  Susan, Alex, and Marc were all busy and calmly on task when Maggie appeared. Marc was slicing fruit. Alex was frying up sausage and bacon for Maggie’s famous Smokehouse Quartet casserole. And Susan was arranging from-scratch cinnamon rolls in the pan for the final rise.

  “Hey, Mom. I was going to come get you as soon as I was done with these,” Susan said, gesturing to the rolls.

  “I about had a heart attack when I looked at the clock just now. I can’t believe I overslept two days in a row. Looks like you three have everything well in hand,” Maggie observed.

  “I think so,” Marc said, handing her a cup of coffee. “What else needs to be done?”

  “Just the sauce for Smokehouse Quartet and the egg casserole. Do you want to make the sauce, Mom? Or teach me how? I’ve never gotten the hang of it. We can throw the egg dish together in a nanosecond and then I think we’re ready.”

  “I’ll show you how; it’s easy. I feel guilty for leaving you in the lurch while I slept in. Did you get the paper? Is there a nice story about the carnival?”

  The three exchanged a nervous glance. “Okay. Let me see it, right now.”

  Alex handed her the soggy front page and gestured to the bottom left-hand column where a headline announced, “Council Throws Successful Fundraiser for Pension Fund.” The picture of Haynes shaking hands with Brian Gordon was featured, with a caption detailing the amount raised. The article continued on page three with quotes from Haynes and a brief mention that Mrs. Martin allowed the council to hold the carnival at Rosemont.