Hyacinth

by Chris Keniston

  “Maybe this time someone will stop him rather than just step aside.” She couldn’t believe how many strangers earlier on Main had been willing to let a little boy run by them without stopping to see if something was wrong.

  “You can’t really blame them.” Alan smiled, his gaze steady on the camel ahead. “These people are not locals. Since we were already giving chase, they probably thought we were the parents.”

  She hadn’t considered that. At all. Though she would admit, just a little while ago, as they’d made their way back to the parking lot where the zoo was set up, she’d liked the feel of Alan and her with a child and a pet. Though in her world she would have preferred a Golden Retriever like Lady and Sarge. Or maybe something hypo-allergenic like a Golden Doodle.

  “Oh, no.” Alan pointed. The animal hung a left and galloped through the open double doors of the shop ahead.

  Cindy held her breath and picked up her speed. Of all the shops the animal could have gone into, it chose to go through that one. The Crystal Emporium.

  A loud, startled screech sounded from inside the gift shop. From experience, Cindy knew the place was loaded with fine china, crystals, figurines and enough breakables to leave the fundraiser seriously in the financial hole.

  “This can’t be good,” Alan muttered at her side.

  Turning on her heel, she flew into the shop and skidded to a stop. What the…

  Alan looked left, then right, then settled his gaze on her. “This is the right shop?”

  Surely if an animal as large as a camel, even a baby camel, came prancing through a china shop, there would be plenty of collateral damage. Except, not here. Every glass shelf, figurine and point of sale display was intact as it should be. The only reason Cindy was convinced she hadn’t been mistaken about which store the camel had entered was the wide-eyed shock on the clerk’s face and the shaky finger pointing to a rear doorway.

  “Come on.” Alan waved at her and sprinted forward.

  Stepping over the threshold of the back door into the alley, Cindy stopped short behind Alan.

  Hand extended in front of him, he cooed, “Hey, fellow,” slowly moving forward. The camel had stopped at a trash can and lifting his head, eyed Alan with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

  Something told Cindy this little guy might give his trainers a run for their money more often than not. “Remember, they spit,” she said softly.

  Alan turned to look over his shoulder at her. “That may be the least of my troubles.” He pointed to the ground nearby.

  Though she didn’t know enough about camels to figure out how he’d done it, apparently fishing through the trash cans, the camel managed to squirm his way out of the harness and the easiest way to control him. If they could get close enough. Slowly, Alan inched forward, talking softly to the animal now watching him with more interest than the scraps in the garbage.

  “Atta, boy.” Alan kept his gaze level with the curious animal as he leaned forward and picked up the end of the rope, then cautiously inched forward another step.

  The camel took a step back and Cindy was pretty sure the game was now on. This guy had no interest in being haltered again. “Be careful.”

  Before she could give any further instructions, the camel’s lips parted and spit flew the short distance at an unprepared Alan.

  Wiping his face, he took a second before laughing. “I see what you mean.”

  “They kick too.” She smiled.

  He rolled his eyes skyward. “Marvy.”

  Still smiling, she shrugged. “Want me to try?”

  “Nope.” Alan smiled at the camel while speaking to her. “The gauntlet, so to speak, has been thrown.”

  Cindy pressed her lips between her teeth to stifle a laugh.

  “Come on, fella.” Alan barely moved, hiding the rope behind his back. “I bet you like your ears scratched, don’t you?”

  She wasn’t all too sure of that one, but couldn’t wait to see how it turned out. He was talking to the camel the same way he spoke to Frick and Frack.

  Taking another slow half step, Alan got close enough for his fingers to gently touch the camel’s neck. “See. That’s not so bad, is it?”

  His fingers dug into the soft fur another minute before the animal spit and pulled away.

  “Didn’t your mother teach you it’s not polite to spit?” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and cleaned his face.

  Cindy didn’t know very many men who still carried handkerchiefs. She liked that he was a throwback to a different time. Maybe adapting to small town life might not be such a challenge for him after all.

  “Shall we try that again?” Alan braved facing the spitting camel once again. This time sliding his hand along the long furry neck. “We can do this.”

  The camel’s leg moved and before she could shout a warning, Alan shifted out of the way of a half-hearted kick.

  “That wasn’t very nice,” he softly chastised the uncooperative creature.

  “Maybe if you can get him to sit?”

  For the first time since he got within reach of the animal, Alan turned his eyes toward her. “You’re kidding?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I’ve read that sometimes it’s easier to harness a difficult camel if he’s on the ground.”

  “You’ve read up on harnessing camels?” The curious lift of his brows almost made her laugh.

  “I read a lot.” She shrugged.

  He returned his attention to the dromedary who seemed more interested in Alan and her interaction than escaping again. Alan gave his neck a gentle pat. “You heard the lady. Sit.”

  To her great surprise, the camel did as commanded.

  “Well, I’ll be.” Alan scratched the camel’s neck in earnest. “Aren’t you a good boy.” A few more seconds of cooperative camel and Alan had the harness around his head. “We did it.”

  “Not we. You.” She closed the gap between them and threw her arms around him. “My hero!”

  The camel pushed to its wobbly feet and stared at them.

  “Yeah, well.” Still hanging onto the rope, he slid one arm around her. “I don’t know about the hero thing.”

  About to convince him otherwise, she noticed the camel’s lips perch at the same moment Alan did. In a single movement that caught her off guard, Alan swerved her around, taking a direct hit while blocking her from the onslaught of camel spit.

  “See?” She smiled at him. “My hero.”

  “Or just a delusional author crazy enough to chase after a camel.”

  “That too.” She grinned.

  Maybe he was just a little bit crazy, but this kind of crazy she could use in her life.

  ***

  “My goodness,” Edna shook her head, “I haven’t had this much foot traffic in a day since Nora Roberts came through a decade ago!”

  Even if Alan wasn’t a romance writer, he’d be an idiot not to recognize the compliment. Whether a person was a fan of Nora or her alter ego JD Robb didn’t matter, the woman was an icon in the publishing world. “Thank you, but I think credit is more likely because people love a good cause.”

  “And a good book,” she countered.

  “Thank you. I had fun.” He’d actually had way more fun than he’d expected. While sitting in a chair signing his name for hours wasn’t the most comfortable of experiences, after the early exclusive signing for the larger donors, Edna had kept him supplied with everything from pink lemonade and sweet tea to some of the most delectable cookies and muffins, no doubt from Lily’s bakery. He’d probably put on five pounds but enjoyed every bite. Even with the delicious treats, the most entertaining had been the visits from the town folks he’d gotten to know during his stay. Floyd the barber had become as popular as his TV reference. So much so that many of the customers requested he sign their books as well. And though Alan had heard Ralph telling stories over cards at the lake of his days on the commuter trains back in the day, none had been quite as entertaining as when he played to a larger audience.
A time or two Alan had been so engrossed in the stories that he’d forget why he was here and had stopped signing to just listen. Fortunately, whoever had been at his side had been equally enraptured by the storytelling.

  Standing in the corner, quietly watching his conversation with Edna, Cindy leaned against a wall of books and smiled at him. Not since he was a goofy teen had a mere glance at a pretty girl sent his heart racing while at the same time fearing if he moved he’d trip over his own feet.

  “I’d better run.” Edna took a step back. “I have a few things to attend to. Don ’t want to miss the final drum roll.”

  Alan watched the woman scurry away before meeting Cindy halfway across the store.

  “I heard you were a big hit.”

  “I don’t know about that,” he answered.

  “I do. Edna already sent in her numbers for the first part of the day. I suspect she’s working up the final donation numbers now.”

  All afternoon folks had enthusiastically been sharing updates on the large campaign thermometer in front of the old city hall building. “Last I heard, the fundraiser was doing really well.”

  Cindy sucked in a long slow breath. “I’m almost afraid to look but with all the high fives, thumbs up, whistles and smiles I’ve been getting, it should be pretty good.”

  “I think it’s going to be better than good.”

  “I sure hope so.” Cindy smiled slowly. “Hungry?”

  He couldn’t stop the laugh that erupted. “Hardly. I’ve been fed all afternoon long.”

  Cindy giggled. “I bet.”

  “How about you? Want some company for dinner?”

  “I actually have snacked my way through the food trucks most of the day.” She smiled sheepishly. “Those zeppoles are irresistible.”

  His brows buckled.

  “Every region has a different version,” she quickly explained. “Funnel cake, beignets, zeppoles. All are basically fried dough with their own twist, and lots of sugar on top.”

  “I have to admit, I have a weakness for beignets. Perhaps I should sample one of your zeppoles. You know, for scientific purposes.”

  A huge grin took over her face. “Sounds like a good idea. For science, of course.”

  Taking her hand in his, they strolled out the door and down the street, weaving through the crowds. The town was packed. Folks had come to spend money, support a good cause, and have a good time. Every age from strollers to walkers was represented, and all had bright smiles. His girl had done good. His girl. He really liked the sound of that. He’d liked an awful lot about not just today, but every day since she’d rescued him from an oversized feline.

  By the time they reached the square in front of city hall, they’d been greeted and congratulated by half the town, found the room to nibble on more tasty treats, and he was just about to buy her a paper rose when he heard her gasp. “What is it?” He spun around.

  Jaw hanging slightly open, her hand over her mouth, Cindy’s other arm pointed straight ahead.

  Following the direction of her dangling finger, he spotted the reason for her reaction. The thermometer was a good three quarters colored in. “Guess that’s more than you expected.”

  Silently, she nodded, her hand still covering her mouth.

  “There’s more.”

  She turned to look at him, snapping her mouth shut before forming words. “More?”

  The sound of someone tapping on a microphone reverberated through the speakers that had been set up to play easy listening music or the live performances on the makeshift stages.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen.” The mayor stood at the tiny stage, grinning out at the crowd slowly gathering around her. “As you can see from our little thermometer, today has been a glorious day for the Lawford Mountain Wildlife Center for Rescue, Rehabilitation and Preservation.”

  Stepping up onto the stage, Mr. Perfect came into view.

  “What’s he still doing here?” Somehow Alan didn’t believe for a minute the guy cared one iota about the small town of Lawford.

  “He’s been a big help all afternoon. Filling in where ever needed. Helping me transport things back and forth.”

  “Transport,” he mumbled.

  “For someone dripping with money, he’s a nice guy.”

  “Hm,” he grunted. Nice guy. When the man’s gaze landed on Cindy and his smile widened, Alan knew exactly why the guy was still here.

  Hands shadowing her eyes, the mayor scanned the audience. “Where is Mr. Peterson?”

  Catching her eye, he shook his head no.

  “Now, don’t be bashful,” the woman coaxed.

  He blew out a sigh and shook his head again.

  “I think he needs a little encouragement.” She put her hands together and began clapping. Slowly the crowd joined in.

  “I don’t know what this is about,” Cindy whispered, “but you might as well give in.”

  “You’re probably right.” Squeezing her hand, he tugged at her arm. “I’m not doing this alone.”

  Cindy’s eyes widened but she followed along. Just one of the things he’d come to love about her. Unwavering support and trust came naturally for her, and when it was cast in his direction he felt ten feet tall.

  “In the meantime,” the mayor continued, “we’ve been honored by a very generous donor today.”

  Mr. Perfect stepped forward and handed a piece of paper to the mayor. The way the woman’s eyes rounded and her brows shot up high enough to kiss her hairline, it had to be a whopper of a donation.

  “Oh, my.” The town leader waved the paper as if the people in the crowd could see the tiny print. “We have a pledge for twenty thousand dollars.”

  Perfect cleared his throat.

  “Though there is one condition,” the bubbling woman smiled.

  At the top of the stairs, Alan stepped aside for Cindy to stand beside him and resisted the urge to block her from Perfect’s view.

  “A dinner date with our good Dr. Nelson.” The way the mayor grinned at Cindy, anyone would think that was a great idea.

  It wasn’t, but Alan had to bite his tongue. It wasn’t his dream, and Cindy wasn’t his woman.

  “I, uh,” Cindy held her hand to her chest, but didn’t let go of Alan’s hand, “don’t know what to say.”

  He supposed no would be asking too much. After all, the only thing on the table was dinner. Even if Perfect wanted to delude himself, of that much Alan was sure. He’d just bought a very expensive dinner—and only dinner—companion.

  Cindy smiled, but didn’t say another word.

  “Well,” the mayor continued, “we should probably move on to our other big announcement.”

  Faces in the crowd stared, eyes filled with curiosity and confusion.

  “Our own Mr. Peterson.” She waved him to come closer. “You don’t mind me calling you that, do you? After all, we feel as though you’re one of us now.”

  He smiled at the woman and planted himself at the opposite end from Perfect, keeping Cindy at his other side. “Not at all. I too feel as though I belong.”

  “Isn’t that wonderful. And now the news.” She waved another sheet of paper she’d been holding. “Our Mr. Peterson, or Peters as many of you know him, was very gracious in donating his time and talents, and now he has made another very generous donation.”

  Cindy tipped her head, her gaze meeting his.

  “Why don’t you tell us?” The smiling woman handed him the mic.

  “Yes. Of course.” He took the microphone and squeezed Cindy’s hand. “While I’ve been here in your lovely town, the lush countryside has been very inspiring. A new idea came to me for a softer, cozier mystery, set right here in Lawford.”

  The choral gasp of pleasure and surprise from those standing around surprised him.

  “It only seemed right that I should repay this wonderful town for the idea. I’ve pledged my royalties for the first book, and a portion for the remainder of the series to the wildlife center.”

  Cindy’s jaw d
ropped and her eyes twinkled with unshed tears. “Really?”

  “Really.” He nodded.

  From a narrow table behind her, the mayor lifted a glass sculpture around six inches high and handed one to him and another to Mr. Perfect. “From a grateful community for your generosity, please accept these little tokens. Our own glass craftsman from the Crystal Emporium, Max Porter, has made these especially for you in remembrance of the first annual Lawford Street Fair.”

  Both Alan and Mr. Perfect muttered a polite thank you.

  “On that note,” the mayor announced to the crowd, “let’s get on with the fun.” The mayor shuffled behind them, ushering everyone off the stage.

  “I should put this someplace safe.” He laid a hand across the small of Cindy’s back and steered her toward the lot where his car was parked. Mr. Perfect closed in on their heels.

  “Is that as generous as I think?” she said softly, so the other generous donor wouldn’t hear.

  He laughed. “Probably. I figure there are going to be an awful lot of expenses once the place is built. Staff, supplies. You’ll need money.”

  “Thank you.”

  “There is one condition,” he said quietly.

  “Dinner?” she teased.

  From the corner of his eyes he could see Perfect wince. “I was thinking more of your approval.”

  Tilting her face to steal a glance as they walked, her brows buckled and her gaze intensified.

  He stopped close to his car, twirling her around to face him. “I’d like to stay in Lawford.”

  “You would?” Her face softened and her eyes twinkled. “I’d like that.”

  “Then I guess the money is yours.”

  “That’s it?”

  He shook his head. “There’s more, but it has nothing to do with the donation and will have to wait until we don’t have a crowd of people milling about.” He popped the trunk open with the key fob. “Then, after you’ve grown to find me as irresistible as I find you, I’ll have a more serious question for you.”

  This time her eyes popped open wide and she melted into his side. “I like the sound of that.”