The Fourth of July weather was better than anticipated, sunny with a few clouds but no rain in the offing. Shannon ate breakfast at five then dressed in her usual July Fourth clothes—navy blue walking shorts, red sandals, a white halter-necked top with its own wrap-around tie belt—and walked to work. Which meant crossing Evergreen Boulevard to the parade grounds on what was the longest workday of her year. She joined the work crew at six and knew she’d be lucky to get home by midnight.
Her first job was to make sure the main stage for the live music was ready for the noon start. It was easy to check off her “to do” list—the city crews always did a great job. Next, she checked with each vendor in turn, making sure they were happy with things. Or at least with everything she had control of. She put out a couple fires—one vendor didn’t get the electricity she’d asked for. Another swore his special folding chair had been stolen by a neighboring vendor and was on the verge of starting a fistfight. Shannon got power to the one and found the chair under the display table of its owner for the other. A couple vendors had the usual concerns about whether there would be enough people to cover the costs of being there, but with the expected 70,000 people coming from all over the region, Shannon assured them they would do just fine.
She didn’t have much chance to see how Leo was doing. His plan was to mount the glass in the entrance kiosks with Giles and his friends from Firehouse Glass, so she assumed that’s where he was. The information booth he’d staff for the rest of the day was set up. Under a white canopy, he’d placed two display tables covered in a red-white-and-blue patterned fabric. On them were brochures and flyers about the Community Foundation, which had funded his installation, information about local glass studios and hot shops as well as his other work. Posters on foam core board explained the fireworks display.
It was all on track for the 8 a.m. opening.
Shannon was about to sneak across the street for a second cup of coffee when a pair of strong arms circled her waist and snuggled her against a muscular chest, while the owner of the arms and chest nuzzled her neck.
“Good morning, whoever you are,” she said.
“Whoever I am? If I lick you like Walter does, will you recognize me?”
“Oh, Leo. I recognize your voice now.” She turned with a grin, a giggle, and a kiss. “I’m going to get coffee. Want some?”
“Love some. Do you have enough for three more?”
“No, but I can make enough. Giles and the guys?”
“Yeah. We were finishing up the kiosk at the east end of the street when I saw you. Giles chased me away because he said I was paying more attention to you than I was to the glass. I promised coffee in return.”
They got the coffee organized. Leo gave Shannon a tour of the final pieces of glass to be installed. It was marvelous in the daylight. She could only imagine how fabulous it would be as it got dark and the lights began to play on the pieces.
The day went by in a blur. When she wasn’t putting out figurative fires with the vendors and artists, or helping get performers to the right place at the right time, Shannon spent time with Leo. It was fun to see the easy way he talked to the curious visitors who had dozens of questions about his glass. He seemed to love explaining the process, especially to kids, and probably filled the classes of every glass teacher in town. Local television stations taped Leo talking about his work and planned to add footage of the lighting when it went live. All the local papers were there, too, as was, to Leo’s delight, the Associated Press stringer. She did a long interview with him and promised to get it out on the wire along with photos.
And there was a steady stream of Leo’s friends and family who’d come especially to see the installation. Amanda St. Claire, her husband, daughter, and stepsons were there; so were Giles and his boyfriend and all the guys from Firehouse Glass. Cathy and her new boyfriend dropped by. The entire Wilson clan—siblings, spouses, children, and parents—was there in force. The only one missing was Walter. He was in doggie daycare because no animals were allowed on the grounds. And even if they had been, Leo wouldn’t have brought him because the sound of the real fireworks would have frightened him.
About eight-thirty, when the natural light began to fade some, Leo brought out his laptop and the big experiment with lighting the glass began. He brought up the program, hit the right keys, and they waited. At first nothing happened. It didn’t seem to be working. But then, the lights around them began to flash on and off in a random order. Gradually, more and more people gathered around the places where the glass was hung to watch the show, oohing and ahhing at the sight. Kids ran from one place to another trying to figure out the sequence of the lights. When they realized there was no pattern, they tried to guess which firework would be lit next.
It worked exactly as Leo had envisioned it. The brilliant colors of the glass seemed as bright as the real fireworks, and the quick flash of light from the spot gave the impression of an explosion. Even the music from the group performing on the main stage seemed to work with his plan.
A few minutes before ten, Leo shut off the display to disappointed sounds from the crowd. But they weren’t disappointed for long.
“Look. It’s officially the Fourth of July,” Shannon said as the sky lit up with various colors and shapes and the sound of the explosions reverberated for blocks. “The real fireworks have started.”
Leo pulled her onto his lap and kissed her temple. “No, baby, the real fireworks will be later, at your house.”
And they were.