Need You for Mine (Heroes of St. Helena) (21 page)

“And what a face,” Chantel said, her voice going breathy. “One wink from Adam and I wouldn’t be surprised if Lulu agreed on the spot. Oops, that’s the other line, I have to go. Have Adam wear plum—it’s Lulu’s favorite color and the accent for Swagger.”

Thrilled at the idea of spending more time with Adam, and terrified of pulling off their ruse for even longer, she said, “You bet. We’ll see you soon.”

“I don’t care how big your banana is, that dipstick is not welcome anywhere near my booth or my houses,” Nora Kincaid said to Ida Beamon, all piss and vinegar, jabbing her cane toward her handcrafted mailboxes that resembled miniature Victorian houses, and nearly poking out Adam’s left eye. Adam managed to dodge it and took in the remaining chaos at the registration table.

“My dipped bananas are
the
crowd favorite. Grabbing one on the way into the fair is tradition for families all around town,” Ida argued, pointing to the
TOWN FAVORITE
star on her
I TAKE MINE DOUBLE-DIPPED AND WITH NUTS
shirt. “Veteran vendors get first dibs on last year’s booth. Last year I had booth one, like I had it the thirty years before. And just because some bonehead didn’t consult the map doesn’t mean you get to run me out of my booth.”

“The hell it doesn’t,” Nora said, raising her cane to smack-down level. “I was here early so I could get in line first, then I turned in my form. First!” She shot up a finger, then pointed a more appropriate one at McGuire. “Where that bonehead there assigned me booth one.”

Adam grabbed the cane before it struck bone, and when someone lobbed a chocolate-dipped banana at the registration table, he put himself between the blustering old biddies. After a few kicks to the shin, an elbow in the ribs, and someone goosing him from the sidelines, he knew he had to change tactics—and fast.

A mob of ladies swarmed the registration table, demanding to see if they still had their promised street-facing booth.

Not just ladies—angry old biddies with a bone to pick. It was as though every quilter, crafter, and banana-on-a-stick master, from the dawn of time until the present day, had been promised a street-facing booth. Adam felt genuine fear take over.

“One more elbow flies and I will give the entire front row of booths to the Gardening and Flower Club.”

A collective gasp came from the crowd, but the elbows lowered and everyone took a step back. Everyone, except Ms. Moberly, the town’s librarian. She stepped forward and looked over the rim of her glasses at Adam in a move that was pure velvet and steel, and had silenced rowdy kids for over four decades.

“Well, that would make for some interesting talks at home,” she said. “Since the garden club is doing a presentation on orchid pollination, they will be selling their giant white asparagus by the bunches.”

“So?” Adam said, pinching the bridge of his nose, not making sense of any of it.

“This year’s crop has been quite the talk. It’s bigger than normal and quite impressive with its
thick stalks
and
bulbous crowns
,” Ida added, the
if you know what I mean
clear in her voice.

“Oh geez,” Adam said, holding his hand up.

Ms. Moberly pushed her glasses farther up her nose, and suddenly Adam felt as if he were twelve again, slipping
The Joy of Sex
in his backpack. “Putting the bananas and asparagus together would negatively influence the topics for the Build Your Own Book project I have planned.”

“Like her dipped bananas and melons won’t give
Dick and Jane
a whole new spin,” Nora argued. “Which is why my wholesome mailboxes will be street facing.”

“I’m selling my apple pie by the slice,” someone else said. “It doesn’t get more wholesome than apple pie.”

“Well, that young man there promised me booth one,” Nora said, pointing to McGuire again, as though there would be no further argument.

McGuire smiled. Ida did not. Neither did Peggy Lovett, owner of the Paws and Claws Day Spa.

“Well, the one with the tight tush promised it to me,” Peggy said, looking right at Seth. “I’m teaching people about proper summer safety to keep their animals cool, and selling my Beat the Heat–inspired doggie couture. I called my supplier and ordered extra hat fans this year after I found out I was in booth one.”

“Well, as I’ve said, I’ve been setting up in booth one since the first year of this event, and as a veteran vendor I have dibs!” Ida flapped her form in the air.

A wave of frenzy took over the crowd as women started pushing forward to be next in line. Seth and McGuire barricaded themselves behind the table.

Shaking his head at his first responders, Adam stepped forward. “Settle down.”

When that didn’t work he let out an ear-piercing whistle that had people zipping their lips. Then he thought about Harper’s lips, and wished he’d made time to grab a quick kiss before starting his day. Because he knew that quick kiss would turn into more if he allowed it. And instead of playing mediator to a bunch of grandmas, he could be wrapped around Harper, playing hide the banana. “How many people were promised a street-facing booth?”

Nearly every hand went up. Which was impossible. There were ten street-facing booths and at least twenty women claiming them. “Keep your hand in the air if Seth here promised you one of the ten street-facing booths.” Half of the hands remained. “Now, if it was McGuire you spoke with . . .” The other half went up.

Adam glanced back at his men, who were standing behind separate tables, with separate plot maps, and looking at the ground like two kids caught with their hands down their pants.

“I didn’t know Freshman over there was giving out the same booth numbers,” McGuire said, as if it were all Seth’s fault.

Adam sighed, long and hard, because Ida was right. He was surrounded by boneheads. Of course, he could be a card-carrying member, considering he’d been the one to make the executive decision to place Seth and McGuire in charge of booth registration. He’d also chosen to spend that past hour watching Harper flutter around town again instead of keeping watch over his team.

First, because Harper was a hell of a lot more fun to look at. But mostly, being under someone’s thumb never helped Adam any. And he didn’t think it would help these two.

When he was younger, and an FNG himself, being under someone’s thumb only made him squirm. It wasn’t until Roman let him screw up enough to learn, but not enough to get singed, that he became the firefighter he was today.

He figured that Seth and McGuire needed some direction, maybe a little example of how to manage a situation, but he didn’t think they need their fucking hands held.

“Freshman or not, he is your teammate, McGuire, and you, as the
senior
member, should have had his back,” Adam said, wondering why he sounded like his old man.

“I’ll remember that, sir.” McGuire gave a single, tense nod. Translation: order received and understood, now go fuck yourself.

Adam opened his mouth to tell McGuire he was already doing a
good enough job of it, when something hit him. What his men needed
was a positive example, the guy who Harper swore she saw when she looked at him. The shit of it was, he needed that guy right then too.

Adam placed a hand on McGuire’s shoulder and leaned in so only the two of them were privy to the conversation. “I know you don’t want to be here, man. I don’t blame you, this is a shit assignment, but it’s important to the town and the department, which was why I requested you.” McGuire’s shoulders lifted at the praise. “You have a lot of expertise to share, expertise that I think this event and Seth can benefit from. He needs to be shown how things work, and I am counting on you to make sure there’s open communication among the crew. That he fits in. Can you do that?”

McGuire’s chest puffed out about four thousand feet and he smiled. “Yes, sir.”

Adam clapped him on the shoulder, then turned to the crowd and plastered on that Baudouin smile women loved so much. “I apologize about the mix-up. Unfortunately, we have ten street-facing booths and twenty of you claiming them.”

“Too bad, those booths are rightfully owned by ten veteran vendors,” Ida hollered.

“I’ve been at booth seven since sixty-eight,” someone in the back yelled. “And now those yahoos from the yoga studio are claiming it’s theirs!”

“Sixty-eight sounds like it’s time you gave someone else a shot!”

All at once, everyone began shouting. It started with locations versus sales, quickly moved to how smooth last year went, and took an ugly turn at “If I don’t get my booth, I want a refund!” Which meant the event would fail. Under his direction.

No booths meant no booth fees—and no Back-to-School Packs.

Adam counted at least seven women heading for the parking lot, seven registration fees he’d have to reimburse—and seven families who might not participate in the day’s events. Right then, he knew he couldn’t charm his way out of this.

Time to lead then.

“Hang on,” he said, picking up the Beat the Heat official binder off the table. He held it high in the air so everyone could lock their beady eyes on it. “Now, these guys here volunteered—on their own time, I’d like to add—to help make this community event a hit. For everyone. Not just a few booths.”

He paused to eye the most vocal protestors in the crowd and locked on until they knew he was good and done. “Being that this is their first year not only planning Beat the Heat but attending it, I was expecting a bit more help from you ladies. More of that St. Helena neighborliness you’re all so fond of bragging about.”

People stopped walking and a few of them even had the decency to look ashamed.

“In the past, we have always allocated spaces based on history with the event. People get the chance to register for the same booth every year, and only when someone forfeits their space does it go to someone else. Correct?”

That got a few heads to nod.

Adam clapped his hands. “Great. Then I need you to form a single-file line in order of your booth number from last year. Ida will take the front spot, since she and her bananas have been booth one since before I was born. And if someone is not present, or their form is not already on file stating they wanted to renew their spot, then it will go to the next person in line. Understood?”

There were a few grumbles, but people started lining up.

“What about my mailboxes?” Nora asked. “Do I get stuck in no-man’s land because she’s been hogging the same spot for all these years? I’ve lived here just as long as she has, but only started selling my wares after God spoke to me in the form of a naked statue of a no-good two-timer. I helped lop off his pecker, then got busy building my business. Should I be penalized for that?”

“You’re not being penalized for anything,” Peggy said. “But Ida here has put her heart and soul into making those dipped bananas the Beat the Heat town tradition. It wouldn’t be right to take that from her either.”

“That’s why it’s up to Ida,” Adam said, looking Ida right in the eye. “If she wants to give up her booth or switch spaces, that’s up to her. That’s how the rules have been for years, so as the current tenant of booth one, it’s her call.”

“I wouldn’t mind sharing,” a sweet-as-sin voice said from the back. Adam watched as Harper made her way forward. She had on a flowy sundress, sexy heels, and that smile. “I’m not street facing, but the Fashion Flower’s face-painting booth will be stationed right next to the stage, which is a great location. Most of my kids’ moms do yoga at Get Bent, so our customers would cross over.”

“Thank you,” the owner of Get Bent said. “That would be great. I always get lost in the back, and people don’t find their way to my fruit smoothies until dark, and then who wants a cold treat?”

“That would take all the fun out of the event,” Harper said, releasing that smile on Ida. “Don’t you think?”

All eyes went to Ida, who was glaring back at Harper. Peggy had moved in too and was practically hovering over the other woman, giving her a reprimanding eye.

Not Harper. She didn’t crowd, didn’t badger, didn’t even raise her voice. But she also didn’t give the older woman an out. Just flashed some of that warm welcome and understanding she was so good at and waited, as if confident that with time and support Ida would reach deep and find her best behavior.

Ida took in a deep breath and began shaking her head vigorously, several times in fact, before letting out a disgruntled huff. “Fine.” She turned to Nora. “If you’d like, you can set your mailboxes up in the grass space of my tent. I never use that area.”

“I’m not asking for a handout,” Nora said.

“I’m not offering one. You want to share the booth, you pay for it. Ow!” Ida jerked her head toward Peggy and rubbed her foot. Peggy just smiled on.

Nora crossed her arms, then made a big show of playing it cool. “Deal. But if I’m paying half the rental fee, then I want all the space for half the time. I’ll take the second day.”

“But Sunday is the bigge—” Ida whipped her head around. “That’s my bunion!”