CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
On Saturday, with four hours to go until YipYeow Day officially began, Sarah paced the park pavilion. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. She checked the forecast on her phone—no hint of rain in the forecast until midweek. That was a relief !
Volunteers were prepping the area around the speakers’ stage Cliff had built. To the right of the stage, in the open area where he’d constructed a raised platform, lined-up cages already sat in anticipation of when the adoptable animals arrived from the shelter. On the other side of the stage, vendors and volunteers mingled arranging tablecloths, goods, and signs for prizes and services. Food would be put out closer to the event.
Everything was going too smoothly.
Sarah anticipated the proverbial other shoe dropping at any moment. Her nerves were on edge because the week had gone too well. Harlan obtained a one-week reprieve before the rezoning question or the feasibility study was considered. No new council member was appointed, but Harlan was hopeful a compromise candidate, on the side of the white hats, would be appointed soon.
The week had also gone well because Marcus, with limited help from Emily, but plenty from Jacob, held three successful Southwind Pub soft opening nights. Almost as good, nothing blew up at the office, and her mother was still a free woman, at least until the grand jury met next week. More important, she’d personally collected and turned over to Bailey YipYeow corporate sponsorship checks in the amount of fourteen thousand dollars.
The fourteen thousand dollars included Harlan’s five-thousand-dollar matching contribution, but the rest were smaller contributions from most of the downtown merchants and two anonymous givers. She felt like she should pump her fist in the air or take a little bow for having met her secret goal before the first animal strutted forward in the parade. By her calculations, her fourteen thousand dollars, plus the bank’s seed money and its five thousand matching funds, equaled the twenty thousand dollars she’d dreamed of raising. Anything made from registrations, parade-related contributions, adoptions, and tonight’s Howellian Catapalooza affair was gravy.
Speaking of money, Sarah observed Eloise rolling an overloaded cart and the largest lockbox she had ever seen toward the registration table. Sarah recognized the brown boxes on the cart as being the ones the T-shirts donated for those who registered came in, but it was the lockbox that amused her. Eloise wasn’t kidding around. Sarah wondered how anyone could lift it.
Even if the box was lighter than it looked, it wasn’t the only thing that impressed Sarah. This was the first time she’d seen Eloise out of her bank uniform. Her jeans, sneaks, and what Sarah swore was a L.L.Bean–type button-down blue oxford cloth shirt looked good on her.
She waved, trying to catch Eloise’s eye. “Eloise!”
Eloise waved back. They met up at the registration table.
“Do you need some help?”
Eloise picked up one of the boxes and put it on the ground behind the table. The weight of the box had been keeping a sign from blowing away while Eloise pushed the cart across the pavilion area. Eloise handed the sign and a roll of masking tape to Sarah. “Why don’t you hang this on the table for me and then put a small sign on the fishbowl.”
Sarah saw the fishbowl sitting on the cart and placed it on the table. She hung the big sign off the table and taped the “small donations requested” message on the fishbowl. “I didn’t realize you were manning the registration table today.”
From where Eloise was placing another box within easy reach of the registration chairs, she tilted her head back and met Sarah’s gaze. “There may not be a finance committee, but I thought we should have more than one person handling money today. That way, there’s confirmation of what we take in in cash from registrations and the sale of extra T-shirts.”
Sarah remembered Eloise mentioning something about needing a finance committee overseeing the treasurer, but she hadn’t thought much about it after her discussion with Bailey. “Eloise, are you implying something about Mr. Bailey?”
“Not necessarily. It’s just my nature to have checks and balances on money. I get nervous if there isn’t a way to reconcile things. Just like we can follow the corporate money, it’s important we are clear on the funds raised today from individuals and those raised tonight at Catapalooza. Perhaps you should have someone checking up on me, too.”
She smiled, but it was tight-lipped.
That was when Sarah remembered the bank gave Eloise a buyout after she proposed hand reconciling some of the accounts at the bank. She tried to think of a graceful way to press Eloise to explain her misgivings in more detail, but before she could, Bailey joined them. He was carrying a small lockbox.
Although it was the weekend and was going to be a warm day, Bailey was dressed in a suit and tie. “Good morning, ladies. You’re both here early.”
“So are you,” Sarah said.
“Well, I wanted to make sure everything was set up for registration.” He held up the lockbox. “I was told someone was bringing the T-shirts, but I thought we should have some cash on hand to make change as people register. I got some from the bank to start us off today.”
Sarah felt like a third wheel when he stared straight at Eloise. “Don’t worry, I notated taking one hundred dollars from the YipYeow account to use for petty cash change. I’ll make another bookkeeping entry when I return the hundred dollars to the account.”
Reading into what she observed as Bailey and Eloise’s respective body language, Sarah got the distinct feeling they had the same misgivings about each other. Unsure whom to side with, Sarah felt more confused than ever.
“I got money, too.” Eloise pointed to her lockbox.
“Was that from your own account? If so, let’s not use it. It will be a lot cleaner trail if we don’t mix your personal funds with the YipYeow monies. Why don’t you go put your lockbox back in your car, so we don’t have any chance of commingling the funds?”
Bailey looked at his watch. “I promised to meet up with a few of the vendors to collect donations from them an hour before the parade. That still gives us a little over two hours until then. Amanda should be here in thirty minutes. I think it’s important we try to keep two people at the desk at all times, but instead of you sitting out here in the sun all day, why don’t we work out a schedule once she gets here so we can all have some time off?”
Although his offer seemed genuinely nice, Sarah had the distinct feeling it wasn’t one Eloise could refuse. Eloise apparently agreed because she didn’t protest.
Not needing to do anything else at the registration desk, Sarah took one more look around the pavilion for anything out of place. There wasn’t. Everyone had everything under control. Satisfied, and needing a little time of her own before the festivities began, she headed home to get RahRah ready for the parade and his job as grand marshal. It tickled her every time she thought of him in that role. To her, the idea of a cat serving as the grand marshal was ludicrous.
Sarah had included the suggestion of RahRah as a way of keeping the spotlight on the animals as a joke in one of the incessant emails with the mayor’s assistant. The assistant shared what she, too, thought was a good laugh with the mayor. Rather than being amused, the mayor loved the idea. After all, he considered RahRah to be something of a town hero, as well as a property taxpayer. Consequently, the mayor decreed it only fitting RahRah and Sarah ride with him in the lead car.
Because Sarah hadn’t planned on any cars leading the parade, she thought the mayor’s assistant’s return email was in jest. But it wasn’t. When Sarah finally wrapped her head around the idea, she hated to admit it was kind of exciting.
Now, walking home, she thought again about how many weird adventures RahRah’s coming into her life created. She hoped the two of them avoided anything unpleasant today, especially when getting him ready for the parade. In preparation, she’d brought up the topic during a few of their one-sided discussions. So far, he hadn’t exhibited any signs of being thrilled about the prospect of being in the parade, let alone serving as the grand marshal. Perhaps she could win him over, or at least generate some excitement, when she changed his collar from his everyday red leather one to either his rhinestone sparkler or his Fourth of July red, white, and blue extravaganza. Being honest with herself, neither would probably make much of a difference.
Turning onto Main Street, she saw Mr. Rogers coming toward her. He had his cane in one hand and held a leash attached to the cutest ball of white fur in the other.
“Is that Fluffy?”
“Sure is. She’s a love, she is.” He bent down and patted the little dog, who sat quietly next to him. “Cleaned up nicely, don’t you think?”
“I would never have known it’s the same dog. I had no idea how adorable she was under all that grime and matted fur.”
“Most people wouldn’t.”
“It must have been quite a job to groom her.”
“Not really. She was good as gold. Most dogs would have fussed, but she sat quietly like she knew I was helping her.”
Sarah bent and extended her hand, palm down, so Fluffy could smell it. Once she was sure Fluffy was comfortable, she reached forward and gently rubbed her head.
“Maybe she knew, after what happened the other night, that the helping was reciprocal.”
“Possibly. She’s pretty bright. Knows all her commands and even a few tricks.”
“If she’s that trained, I wonder how she got separated from her owner? Whoever it was, obviously invested a lot of time in her.”
“I can’t imagine. I put up a few signs on the next blocks and checked with the shelter, but there haven’t been any inquiries for a sweetie like her.”
“Are you going to keep her?”
“For now. She’s been through so much that, rather than upsetting her again, Phyllis and I decided to let her stay at my place while we look for her rightful owner. It might be easier on her than taking her down to the shelter. Phyllis promised to let me know if anyone asks for a dog matching her description.” He bent and rubbed Fluffy behind her ears. “Fluffy’s such a little lady. I’m secretly hoping we don’t find her owner.”