by Laura Quinn
“I took a peek at those bags when Kim left the tent. She was cursing up a storm, so I knew she would be gone for a long smoke break. There’s some premium stuff that would score a big payload on e-Bay.”
“I’m starting to see why they need guard rails.”
“Oh, poppycock. I was just looking. They’ll be so sloshed after all the drinks tonight that they’ll leave most of it behind. John, Jean and I always clean up at the end of the night.”
“You’ve got quite a little racket going,” Claire said.
“We like to build up a little kitty for rainy days. The home’s idea of fine dining and entertainment is fish cakes and some crappy old movie.”
“I may be able to help feed that kitty,” Claire said. “Legally, that is. I wanted to talk to you about making some dog collars for my shop.”
Nick and a paramedic arrived with a wheelchair.
“Your timing stinks,” Agnes said. She handed Claire a business card with her cell phone number and email address. “Call me.”
Despite Claire’s insistence she was fine, the paramedic wrapped her ankle in an ace bandage and applied an ice pack. Nick helped the reluctant patient into the wheelchair, scrutinized by Agnes and Baron.
Nick wheeled Claire to his car and assisted her into the front seat. Baron jumped over her lap, in the space between the humans. If Claire was weary of the special attention before, it was ratcheted up when the dashboard siren was activated.
“This is a valid emergency,” he said. “Besides, I never get to drive this baby at full speed.” The wailing car reached the shop in three minutes. Claire was much steadier as she walked the short distance inside. Nick repeated the instructions of propping up her foot and applying ice for twenty minutes at a time.
“That will keep any swelling down, which will make it feel better. If you’re still up to fireworks tonight, I’d like to invite you to be my guest at ground zero.” Receiving a puzzled reaction, he explained that he would be supervising the launching of the fireworks. Claire was tempted, as she had always been curious as to how the show was orchestrated.
“I can pick you up and have a wheelchair waiting.”
Claire insisted she would be fine, and would meet him at the pier. Before he left, Nick got a bottle of water for Claire and filled Baron’s bowl with ice water. She thanked him and Baron offered his paw. The safety-conscious fireman locked the door behind him and slid the keys through the mail slot. He watched in admiration as the smart dog retrieved the keys for Claire.
Baron ran a few laps around the office with his shiny prize, but dropped it in favor of the cheesy bone he left on his bed. Claire answered Marti’s call, which advised she was on her way in and had her keys. A few minutes later, Baron escorted his favorite aunt back to Claire.
“What the hell happened?”
“We were taking a quick look around the tents, then I tripped over some stupid security rope. It was pretty embarrassing.”
Marti tried to keep from laughing, but couldn’t. “So, you’ve really fallen for this guy?” She laughed even more at her joke. “And I hear he’s on you like a siren,” she cackled.
“Ha ha. The whole thing would have been fine if one of the Golden Oaks seniors hadn’t come over to make a big deal out of it. She was hoping to get a cut of a huge lawsuit, with the aid of her perjured testimony.”
“Her name didn’t happen to be Agnes Foxwell, did it?”
“Do you know her?”
“She’s one of the crafty codgers gang, the charter member, in fact. She came to my office a few years ago, wanting to sue the retirement home for subjecting them to sub-par conditions. She even brought in a bag of cockroaches as proof.”
“How awful! It looks like such a luxurious facility.”
“It is,” Marti said. “Believe me, I inspected every inch of the place. It turns out that her partner in crime ordered them online.”
“They are crafty! I was going to ask them to make some collars for the shop, but now I wonder if they don’t import them from China.”
“No, those are genuine. I saw the ribbons and trophies from crafting competitions during my visit. They’re actually a very nice group. It’s only when they get bored that they get themselves into trouble.”
“Maybe I could take an entrepreneurial class from them,” Claire mused. “After I survive this opening weekend, that is. Speaking of, I better get back to work so I’ll be ready in time.”
“Are you sure you’re ok? I can stay here and help you.”
“No, I just have to finish up a few items for the farmers market on Tuesday.” Claire stood tentatively. “See, my ankle is better already. I’ll keep the wrap on and my shoes off.”
“Ok, I’ll see you at seven. Are you sure you’ll be home by then? Or, should I pick you up here?”
“No, I’m leaving here soon. I might even take a nap when I get home.” Baron wagged his tail in agreement.
Chapter 4
True to her word, Claire went home with plenty of time to rest. She took a long shower, inhaling the calming lavender steam from an aromatic shower bomb. It cleared her mind for about thirty seconds before she mentally listed the series of social media posts she had yet to make. Swathed in her robe, Claire pulled out her tablet and scheduled the series of tweets, posts and snaps for the night. Hercule made the mistake of walking by just as Claire discovered the pawtriotic hashtag and was inspired to take pictures of him wearing Baron’s Americana bow tie, adjusted to its smallest size. Penny’s feline sixth-sense woke her from a deep sleep in time to jump to the highest perch of her seven-foot-tall cat tree when Claire pulled out a miniature flag.
Baron trotted in, happy to model all his patriotic accessories in exchange for a few peanut butter cookies. Claire filled the cats’ bowls with their favorite cod pate, but they sensed trickery and refused to go near the offering. She filled Baron’s bowl with the organic kibble, mixed with finely-sliced roast beef to entice the finicky diner. Happy to see him eating, Claire ran upstairs to change into her denim shorts and red gingham blouse. She grabbed a shawl, in case the night turned cool. When she returned to the kitchen, she found the bowl filled with kibble, but devoid of any beef.
“How do you possibly manage that?” Claire asked for the umpteenth time. “Well, at least the cats ate their din-din.” She looked around, but saw no trace of the pair, who had disappeared before Claire came down with any other ridiculous ideas.
She sprinkled some parmesan cheese on the kibble and packed it in the picnic basket, along with the cheese platter, crackers, grapes, two bottles of wine and plastic glasses. Marti was bringing antipasti and salads from the new Italian deli. Bob, their high school friend and newspaper editor, promised a patriotic dessert along with plates and plasticware. Baron announced Marti’s arrival as Claire turned on the birdwatching channel for the cats. She grabbed the dog bag, packed with treats, bones, bottled water, bowls, paw wipes, baggies and blanket.
“This is worse than it was this morning,” Claire said as they drove past the blocks of parked cars. “Maybe we should have left earlier.”
“No problem,” Marti said. She pulled into the VIP parking lot and waived a press parking pass to the attendant. “I kept this from last time I drove with Bob.”
They unpacked the bags, baskets and blankets and loaded everything into the wagon. The three dogs leapt out of the car and sniffed the grass. Marti pulled out her phone to find where Bob set up camp.
“Hey Claire, how’s the ankle?” one of the paramedics asked.
“It’s fine, thanks. The wrap and ice did the trick.”
“Are you here to see Nick? He just left to get ready for the show, but I can call him back.”
“No, I’ll catch up with him later,” Claire said. “We’re going to set up our menagerie to watch the entertainment.”
Marti was signaling her to hurry up, with her two dogs charging forward. They walked along the perimeter until they reached Bob, set up at the top of the hill.
�
��This is perfect,” Marti said. “We can see everything from up here and it’s far from the fireworks so we should be able to get to the car long before the crowds.”
Bob helped set up the portable play pen for Clarence and Darrow, who wanted nothing to do with it. The dogs’ dinners were unpacked first, and the beagles inhaled their portions before the bowls hit the ground. Baron sniffed his and ate a few bites before turning his head. He focused instead on the food that was being set on the table. Claire snuck him a few small pieces of cheese and cubed ham. When they each had a glass of wine, Claire mustered the courage to tell them about Nick’s offer to see the fireworks up-close.
At precisely seven forty-five., Mike was introduced as emcee and welcomed the judges to the stage with his official pinwheel. The patriotic panel waved as they took their places at the row of personalized director chairs. Claire noticed that some wore pieces from their VIP bags. The last person to take her place was Olivia Hughes, walking with her dog on a red-striped leash and blue-starred collar. The audience gasped when Liberty suddenly backed out of his collar and ran across the stage. Olivia raced after him, but couldn’t catch him in time to prevent his lunge for Mike’s precious pinwheel. Laughter ensued as the Boston terrier ran a victory lap around the stage before returning to his owner, though he refused to let go of his new chew toy.
Mike commandeered the band director’s silver baton and tapped it on the microphone, causing a loud distortion. Regaining everyone’s attention, he announced the night’s agenda, beginning with the talent finals. Winners from each age group, judged earlier that day, were competing for prizes ranging from participation trophies to a $1,000 savings bond.
The show began with six-year-old Becky, tap dancing to Yankee Doodle Dandy and finishing with a blazing baton. Claire spotted Nick behind the curtain, with fire extinguisher in hand. The next act featured a magician who levitated a foam Statue of Liberty and pulled a paper-mâché eagle out of Uncle Sam’s hat. The audience cringed when a teen’s voice cracked during the national anthem, but was revived by a fourth grader’s performance of Who’s on First with his pet cockatoo. The oldest contestant, a high school junior, brought the house down with his tuba and hip-hop-Souza mashup.
The dogs snacked on Posh Pup cookies as Bob struggled to neatly serve his tri-berry trifle. Marti was telling a story from their high school days, disputed by Bob, and distracting Claire from hearing who the winners were.
“You can read it in the paper tomorrow,” Bob said. “Sara is down there covering everything.”
“I could just check Twitter,” Claire said.
“Don’t you dare,” Marti shouted. “No technology at this table.”
The trio talked through most of the trustees’ speeches, pausing to hear who won the parade awards.
“The Chamber should win,” Bob said. “Traci did an amazing job designing those floral signs, even if they did wither a bit by the end.”
“If they don’t win, you can bet Mike will blame my disorderly tardiness,” Claire said.
“If cars were included, Baron would have secured the prize for your fireman friend,” Marti said.
“I hear you made a rather dramatic exit in that car,” Bob said. “Will there be a repeat after the fireworks?”
Claire threw her napkin at him, and Marti shushed both as the judges’ artistic favorite was announced. The group cheered from the hill as Traci accepted the award. Winners for all other categories were announced before the committee’s speeches. As Village President, Kim Bancroft was the last to speak.
“I also want to thank all the kind volunteers, organizations, public safety members and my fellow committee members in creating another spectacular Fourth at North Fest. As this stage is transformed for the orchestra, the North Haven Historical Society has put together a fantastic presentation that highlights our town’s history, featuring Miss Doris Dill’s extensive collection of photographs. Then, a short intermission before the concert and fireworks begin. Happy Fourth, everyone!”
Nick’s text invited Claire whenever she was ready.
“Are you sure you don’t mind watching Baron?” she asked.
“Get going,” Marti said. “We’ll wait for you in the car.”
“Okay, but call me if you need me to come back.” Claire hugged Baron and gave a yak’s milk chew to him. “This should keep you busy while I’m gone.”
“He’ll be fine,” Marti said. “Go on, have fun!”
Bob called after her, “If you get some good pictures, I’ll run them in the paper.”
Claire snaked her way through the patchworked blankets on the grass as new arrivals scoured the park for spaces to set up camp. A steady stream flowed towards the beer garden. Claire congratulated the ribbon wearers along the way, gathering speed as she entered the deserted tent area. She stopped when she heard her name being called.
“Hey Claire, what did you think of our routine?” Emma asked. “I think we did better at the parade, but we had more room there. That stage was pretty small, especially with the judges taking up the whole corner. Chloe messed up the timing on the lift, but it wasn’t really her fault, cause of their constant bickering. It was tots distracting, but then it might have all been because Taylor was the sitting in front of the stage and she likes him, so—”
“I think you all looked great,” Claire interrupted. “It was the best part of the show. Baron thought so too.”
“Where is he? Are you going to the Langdon-Reeve party too? Did she ban dogs? She was so fussy with the setup yesterday. If it hadn’t been for such a good cause, not my own since she said it was for charity, I would have left after the first hour. I wish I didn’t have to go tonight, even though she does have the best view of the fireworks from there. Zac doesn’t have to go. I’m supposed to change before I get there, not that anyone will notice, since they’ll probably be drunk by then.”
“I’m going to watch the show from an even better spot, from the barge itself.”
“OMG, can I come with you?”
“If it were up to me, you could,” Claire said. “But, there are certain safety restrictions. I think you would need prior clearance.”
“How’d you score a pass? OMG X2, did that fireman invite you? Is this a date? He is totally hot, well for an older guy, no offence, I mean he hardly looks that old, neither of you do I mean, but he’s too old for me. Unless he were one of the Hemsworth brothers.”
“No, it’s not a date,” Claire stammered, thinking of an excuse to protect her from endless questions. “Bob asked me to get some up-close pictures. His photographer called in sick, and I used to work with him on the high school paper, so I’m it. In fact, I better get going before I’m late. Have a good time tonight.”
“Ok, see you tomorrow then,” Emma said, already engaged in a new conversation on her phone.
As she walked past the VIP tent, Claire saw the judges filling up their crystal goblets with the Pimm’s and lemonade punch donated by Ye Olde Tavern. She was careful to avoid the rope as she walked behind the tent and over to the shore. The grandiose after-party yacht, bedecked in patriotic swag, was docked at the end of the pier. Many of the guests were boarding early, to catch the fireworks on deck. A mix of patriotic and pop songs blared from the speakers on deck.
Nick waited next to a dinghy on the other side of the pier. After checking in with his team on the walkie-talkie, he rowed his guest to the barge.
“Sorry, I got stopped a few times along the way,” Claire shouted, competing with the loud music.
“No problem. We’re just about set to go here, so your timing is perfect.” He sniffed her neck. “You smell lemony.”
“It’s my bug spray; I can’t stand mosquitos so I bathed in it. You look different in your uniform, very spiffy. I suppose all the girls say that.”
“Wait until you see my safety gear,” he said, climbing into waders, a canvas slicker and protective head gear. “Don’t laugh, you have to wear it too.”
Claire obliged by slipping on
the large neon yellow jacket, goggles, and helmet. “I don’t really have to wear the galoshes, do I?”
“Safety first. What if hot ash falls on you? Those flip-flops are not going to protect your feet. Besides, these have great grip so you don’t slip. We’ve got to look out for that ankle of yours.”
Claire balanced herself as she slipped one foot into the rubber boot, at least two sizes too large. She leaned on Nick to put the other boot on.
“You look adorable,” Nick said. “Here, hang onto these earplugs. These suckers can get pretty loud.”
Claire put the plugs in the oversized jacket pocket. She reached pulled out her phone and started taking pictures. Thinking of Zac’s tech fascination, she took a video capturing the fireworks setup and sent it to him. She snapped a picture of the mansion on the lake and texted it to Emma, to impress her friends. She acquiesced to Nick’s request for a selfie, which she texted to Marti. She knew she owed a lot to her friend for all her help in getting the store ready to open, and guessed this humiliating photo would repay a portion of the debt.
The walkie talkie squawked and Nick signaled to the pyrotechnic team. He put in the earplugs and Claire followed suit. She watched in amazement as the techs launched the series of synchronized fireworks. The atmosphere crackled with bangs and booms as color bombs exploded above. She snapped a few pictures of the devices, the party boat, and the huge crowds oohing and ahhing on the shore. There was a brief lull as the finale was queued up, allowing the clouds of sulfuric smoke to settle. Claire took video as the sky glittered with the rapid-fire climax of multi-colored bursts, flashes and flares.
Nick shed his helmet, goggles and ear plugs, and congratulated the techs. He radioed to his team, sounding the all-clear. Claire followed him into the dinghy and they rowed back to shore.
“So, what did you think?” he asked.
“That was awesome; even better than I expected! Thank you so much for inviting me. It was amazing.”
