Parker waved from his lawnmower as he pulled our float past my spot on the toyshop stoop. He’d constructed a giant toy box. Every so often, the classic toys inside would rise up a little, like they were growing out of the box. I started laughing when I noticed that a large box with a cellophane front didn’t contain a life-sized doll, but a real-life Cathy posing as a doll. The audience packing the sidewalks must have liked it too; they cheered as it went past.
The hopes and predictions of the chamber of commerce were met or exceeded. The street was mobbed, and hopefully all these folks would soon spill into the shops—in particular, ours. They wouldn’t find comic books, though, at least not yet, even though we spent most of yesterday rolling them across the street on Craig’s cart—Amanda had thrown that into the deal along with the store fixtures. It was all still sitting upstairs, packing our living room, and the only thing Dad would say was that he was almost sure he could make it work.
To give credit where it was due, Maxine had done such a good job cleaning the comic book shop—before she almost killed me, that is—that Amanda’s landlord had given her Craig’s security deposit back. I expected the cash was more than welcome to help cover their transitional costs until Craig’s estate could be fully settled. The next tenant would have to do very little except refurnish it for his business.
“Oh, what’s moving in?” I’d asked.
“A private investigator,” the landlord said. I was considering whether a quiet community like ours could support a full-time PI, but I figured even a bedroom community such as ours must have its share of infidelity investigations. With all those bedrooms, someone somewhere was probably in the wrong one.
“Former cop,” he added. “Gave you as a character reference, in fact,” he said, gesturing to my dad, “which was good enough for me. Name of Lionel Kelley . . .”
A brisk breeze drew my attention from my daydreams and back to the parade. Some of the Irish dancers looked a little frozen, and the sky was a bit more overcast than it had been of late, but it didn’t rain. Another gust blew away a few balloons, and I found myself thinking of Craig even as they rose in the sky and disappeared.
I was still a bit distracted, watching one rise, swirling in the air currents, when Ken pushed his way through the crowd and climbed onto the stoop. “Liz, we’ve got to talk.”
I’d been avoiding this. I still didn’t know how to make our relationship work. “If it’s about what we talked about . . .”
“No, this is something different, and I kind of need you to know something before it comes out. It’s better if you hear it from me.” He looked around uneasily. “Can we go inside?”
“But the parade . . .”
He grabbed my arm. “Please, Liz. It’s important.”
“There you are!” a husky voice said, and a willowy blonde climbed onto the stoop and took Ken’s arm. Dad had to step back so there’d be room.
Ken looked as happy to see her as a middle schooler whose mother had signed up as class chaperone. She stuck out a hand. “Nice to meet you. I am Marya Young,” she said in a slight Russian accent.
“Liz McCall,” I said, shaking her hand. “Relative?” I asked Ken.
Ken blanched, swallowed, and then said, “Liz, I’d like you to meet . . . my wife.”
I don’t recall how I responded. But not long after, we were all standing on the stoop together, silently watching the rest of the parade.
My cheeks flared hot, even in the cooling temperatures, while my thoughts cycled back and forth from How could he? to How could I not know?
I missed much of the parade. It just passed. Bands, floats, dancers, even the clowns driving the little cars. They just all melted together like chalk art in a rainstorm.
Then the music switched to “Here Comes Santa Claus,” and the Santa train came into view.
Annie Werth had made good on her promise to play Santa, and she was ho-ho-hoing up a storm. I hadn’t known—but from Dad’s sly smile when I looked up at him, I think he did—that Frank was riding the engine too, fully decked out in his engineer’s hat and costume. Both waved to the crowd.
Then the wind picked up. Annie made a grab for her Santa hat, but the wind carried it away, along with the white wig.
The crowd gasped, and several mothers covered their children’s eyes.
At first Frank didn’t know the reason for the crowd reaction, but when he spun around, he got a good look at Santa. He tugged off her beard, just to be sure. Frank must have let go of the controls at the same time, because the train came to a halt in front of the toyshop.
Dad tapped Ken on the shoulder. “If that gets ugly, you might have to . . .”
But after a couple of looks and brief words, Frank leaned down to hug Annie, followed by the longest, most passionate kiss ever witnessed between a train conductor and Santa Claus. A few people applauded, and one fellow nearby shouted, “Get a room, Santa!” A few wolf calls followed.
Dad squeezed my hand. “At least I’m still batting five hundred.”