Love on Parade

by Carol Moncado

  Maybe the donut place across the street from her hotel was still open, and she could call that lunch.

  Regardless, now that the adrenaline was gone, she just wanted to get warm and sleep.

  Then she’d worry about more substantial things like dinner.

  The foray into the exciting world of the streets of Manhattan on Thanksgiving morning hadn’t been nearly as bad as Cole imagined.

  The protection on all sides at the parade had certainly helped.

  But trying to get back to Brittany’s hotel made him feel more claustrophobic than he had in many years. Some people actually unlatched the interconnected movable fences and started walking down 6th Avenue away from the end of the parade. That helped a little bit for a few steps, anyway.

  “I’m so cold,” he heard Brittany mutter as they hurried down 47th Street toward 7th Avenue. They’d take Broadway down and cut a couple of minutes off.

  The farther they got from the parade route, the thinner the foot traffic became, and he was more able to breathe. As they turned up Broadway, Brittany let go of his coat and walked next to him.

  “You don’t have to walk me back to the hotel,” she told him. “I’m a big girl.”

  “I know, but I have a room there, too. I knew I wouldn’t want to go all the way back to my apartment when I’d be freezing and exhausted.” He’d actually reserved the suite all week, but he didn’t think she knew that, though he did meet her in the breakfast room every morning. It was simply more convenient that early in the morning, especially when they’d been out fairly late every night except for the one before.

  “Then lead on. I don’t suppose there’s anything open for a quick lunch?”

  “I have no idea. But we bought some snacks yesterday.”

  “I know. I was hoping for something a little more substantial. Not much but a little.”

  Her Ritz peanut butter sandwiches and semi-cool water probably weren’t enough. “We’ll find something.”

  “Even the donut place. A carton of milk and a donut or breakfast sandwich would be good.”

  Because she didn’t have a refrigerator in her hotel room like he did in his suite.

  “Maybe a slice of pizza or something equally healthier than donuts.”

  But in the end, they each picked up a couple of donuts and a leftover breakfast sandwich.

  “I’m going to take a nap,” Brittany announced. “Maybe a hot shower. And a heating pad for my hip.”

  One of her legs was slightly longer than the other. The ninety thousand plus steps she’d taken in the last few days were doing a number on it. She’d told him that much when she decided to mostly sit in front of a couple of different pieces at The Met a couple of days earlier. She said the heating pad helped.

  Five hours later, they met back down in the lobby.

  “Did you warm up just in time to go back out?” she asked him.

  “It wasn’t too bad. I made sure to leave my room fairly warm this morning though. You?”

  “I wasn’t that smart. As long as I was moving, I was okay. As soon as I stopped, it was a different story. My teeth chattered to the point I worried about breaking them. My toes tingled for hours. I didn’t realize how numb my legs were until they started with the pinpricks. Even with extra blankets and the heating pad, it took close to two hours to stop shaking.” She pulled her gloves out of her pockets. “But I’m hungry, and I want to see Rockefeller Center, so let’s go.”

  Cole laughed. “Let’s go. You know the tree won’t be lit though, right?”

  “Yes.” She sighed. “Some year I’ll come back closer to Christmas so I can see it in all the glory.”

  “Let me know when, and I’ll be happy to show you around again.” As long as she didn’t have a man with her. Then it would be too much. Unless of course he’d finally found someone to settle down with.

  The idea of settling down and raising a family in the city didn’t appeal to him the way it once had. Maybe he’d get a place upstate with some land and commute to Manhattan when he needed to. He could probably work remotely far more than he actually did.

  Once out on the streets, they looked around. “Other than pizza, we might find a food cart, but I think those are probably our only options.” He could get them into almost any restaurant he wanted, but he didn’t think that was quite what she had in mind. And he didn’t want to act like the rich guy throwing his money around.

  “Either one is fine. Nachos or a pretzel sound good.”

  “You don’t feel like you’re missing out on the traditional Thanksgiving dinner?” He had. And even though he normally ate alone on holidays, he still had the full meal. He’d even had it sent up to his hotel room. Cole had considered calling Brittany and inviting her, but she’d texted that she was going to sleep by the time it arrived an hour later than it was supposed to.

  She shook her head. “Some but not really. I just watched my kid march in the parade. I’m more than willing to give up turkey for that. Besides, I saw some of the signs. The prices for a Thanksgiving dinner were absolutely ridiculous.”

  He doubted she’d want to know what he’d paid then. Come to think of it, he didn’t know either. Just asked Elise to arrange it.

  They found a food cart on their walk toward Rockefeller Center. He took a couple of pictures of Brittany with the unlit tree in the background. They looked over the edge at the skaters.

  “It’s a lot smaller than I imagined. And more expensive too. I figured it was this open rink where you rented skates for a minimal fee or something, but it’s not. It would cost like fifty bucks for up to 90 minutes, depending on when you get there. They’re only open for an hour and a half at a time.”

  “There are other places to skate, you know. Would you like to? There’s another one not too far from here. The free one is usually pretty crowded, but the one in Central Park may or may not be, with it being a holiday and all.”

  Brittany shook her head. “I don’t skate, but I was curious.”

  Cole held his arm out to her. “Come on. Let’s go watch in Central Park.”

  “Isn’t that far?” She slid her hand through his elbow.

  “Fifteen minutes, maybe a bit longer if we dawdle.” Fortunately, the wind had died down. Mostly. “We can get a ride back to the hotel later if you don’t want to walk it.”

  They made it to the rink in just under twenty minutes, which was probably a more realistic time frame anyway. He handed over the ten dollars in cash to go in and get hot chocolate under the pergola-type cover. If there were overhead heaters to help with the chill they might have stayed, but since there weren’t, they went back up top where there was more room and a better view.

  “They charge to watch?” Brittany asked quietly as they leaned against the railing.

  Cole cupped his drink in his hands. “Down there they do. You can watch up here for free, but you can’t get hot chocolate.”

  They watched as the skaters went ‘round and ‘round. One young woman in the middle did some jumps and spins that made Cole dizzy just watching.

  Eventually, they left the rink, but went out the “wrong” way so they could cross Gapstow Bridge over The Pond.

  When they reached the center of the bridge, Brittany stood on her tiptoes to see over the high rail. Cole leaned against it with her.

  “It’s so beautiful out here, even though there’s no snow to cover the brown. The lights of the city are gorgeous but seem like they’re part of a different world. I noticed it at the Trade Center Memorial, but it’s that way here, too. The sounds of the city just don’t exist, even though they’re not far away.”

  “The Memorial was designed that way.” He was still too close to that day to visit, but he’d heard all about it. “I’d imagine the park was too, at least to some extent, but being below street level helps with that. So does the distance you are from the edge of the park itself.”

  “It’s nice.”

  Then she did something he didn’t expect.

  She leaned
her head against his shoulder, just for a moment.

  Cole swallowed hard. “We should probably get you back to the hotel. I’m sure you need to finish packing, and you’ve got an early morning.” He looked down at the top of her head and thought about pressing a kiss to it, but it was covered by her band mom stocking cap.

  “Yeah. I do.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to send a car for you?” She was going to use the Yfir ride sharing app instead, no matter how he tried to insist.

  She moved her head and looked up at him, her eyes shining in the darkness. “It’s fine but thank you.”

  His gaze flickered down to her lips, and he felt himself lean toward her.

  What would it be like to kiss her? Would she let him?

  Maybe he should find out.

  Chapter 4

  If the parade in New York had been a dream, the Winterfest in Trumanville was a nightmare.

  Mrs. Braverman had up and gone to Florida the day after Thanksgiving, dropping the whole thing in Brittany’s lap.

  And it was going to be an unmitigated disaster.

  She’d told Brittany that it was all under control, but the hodge podge of notes in a manila folder held together by a rubber band didn’t offer much reassurance.

  Mrs. Braverman told Brittany she’d contact a friend to help if needed.

  Like she was already expecting Brittany to fail.

  “What are you going to do?” Mia Beach, one of Brittany’s former students-turned-friends, sat across the diner booth from her.

  Brittany stared at the folder. “I have no idea. I’m utterly exhausted. I’ve been back from New York for like seven minutes. And now I’m in charge of the biggest festival in Trumanville. If it fails, everyone will know it was on me.”

  “Why did Mrs. Braverman give it to you anyway?” Mia popped a short fry covered in ketchup into her mouth.

  “I have no idea. It’s the end of the semester. I have so much to do, but you know how hard it is to say no to her.” Especially when she was standing next to a large suitcase at the airport exit holding the rubber-banded folder.

  “But everything’s almost done right?”

  Brittany picked up the folder and waggled it back and forth. “Supposedly.” She took a deep breath and blew it out. “Just think. Less than thirty-six hours ago, I was standing on Sixth Avenue watching Mattison march past with her saxophone and the biggest grin I’ve seen on her face in years.” And standing next to the hottest guy she’d talked to in years. “Now, I’m sitting in a diner in my hometown with less people than on the block where I watched the parade. There were more cops standing in that intersection at times than we have in town at all. But I’m supposed to put on a parade and festival with four weeks’ notice.”

  “If anyone can do it, you can.”

  “I appreciate the vote of confidence.” She took a deep breath and worked the rubber band off the folder before opening it.

  Inside she found dozens of scraps of paper to go with at least an inch of full-size papers. Some were legible. Some... weren’t.

  “I have no idea what any of this is.” Brittany took a long swig of her cooling hot chocolate. “I was hoping it would be all neat and organized, but I should have known better.”

  Mia pointed a fry at her. “I think the only place Mrs. Braverman is organized is in her own head.”

  “I’m starting to think you’re right.”

  Mia wiped her mouth on her napkin. “I think you’ll be fine, but I have to get back to the store. Mom gets annoyed if I take longer than half an hour for lunch.”

  Brittany smirked. “It’s been forty-five minutes.”

  “Yeah. I know. She’ll be mad.” Mia shrugged. “Not like she’s going to fire me or kick me out.” Mia lived above the bookstore owned by her parents.

  “Thanks for your help.”

  “I haven’t done anything.” Mia slid out of the booth and patted Brittany’s shoulder as she walked out.

  “Yet!” Brittany called over her shoulder.

  “We’ll see,” Mia hollered back.

  For over an hour, Brittany stayed at the table in the diner, having the waitress refresh her soda often.

  “How’s it going?” Mattison slipped onto the bench across from Brittany.

  Brittany ran both hands through her hair. “It’s a hot mess. I can’t figure out any of it right now.”

  “It’s the same every year, isn’t it?”

  “More or less.” Brittany leaned back in her seat, reaching her arms over her head, stretching her back. “Except she told me, and everyone else, there were going to be big changes this year.”

  “What changes?”

  Brittany shrugged. “I have no idea and haven’t found a list of what she wanted to change.”

  “I can tell you what she wanted to change.”

  She looked up to see Mr. Lotson standing there. “You talked about it with her?”

  “Of course.” The man owned the antique store just down from the county courthouse.

  “What did she tell you?”

  “That the booths were being rearranged and choices given in a specific order rather than leaving them the way they’ve been for years.”

  Something about the way he puffed up his chest set Brittany on edge.

  “I see,” she told him. “Well, when it’s time to choose, I’ll be sure to let you know where you fall on the list.” The bell over the door rang letting someone else in.

  “Oh, I already know. I get first choice.”

  “Don’t tell the poor girl such lies, Reg.” Mrs. Stephens bustled up to the table. “I get first choice, and you know it.”

  “I know no such thing.”

  “That’s because I get first choice.” When had Mrs. Beach arrived? Mia’s mother owned the bookstore where Mia worked and lived.

  They started arguing, joined by four others, as Brittany put the papers back in the folder and shoved it into her bag. She tossed some cash on the table and managed to sneak out of the diner with Mattison in tow.

  Once in the car, her shoulders slumped. “Escaped that one.”

  “Not quite.” Mattison pointed toward the seven angry shopkeepers hurrying down the sidewalk from the diner.

  Brittany threw the car into reverse and headed for home. Once in the garage, she breathed another sigh of relief that no one had followed.

  “You don’t think they’ll come here, do you?” Mattison left the door to the kitchen open as Brittany punched the garage button with more vigor than usual.

  “I doubt it, but if they do, we just won’t answer the door.”

  “Even for Grandma?” Mattison flopped onto the recliner.

  “Even Grandma,” Brittany confirmed.

  “Good, because she’s pulling up.” Mattison bolted for the hallway. “She can see the living room through the window!”

  Then Brittany would stay in the kitchen until the woman was gone. She wasn’t Brittany’s mother, after all.

  The doorbell rang several times in quick succession, followed by door pounding, more bell ringing, yelling, and eventually an expletive or two as she walked away then peeled out of the driveway.

  Brittany sank into the recliner. Well, that was over. For now.

  But at some point, she was going to have to figure out who really got first choice for the booths. Or just go back to the way things had been for years.

  Maybe that was the answer. If there was no way to find out for sure who was supposed to go first, then just go with what had always been done.

  That would certainly eliminate a lot of stress.

  With confidence in the answer, Brittany closed her eyes and fell asleep.

  Cole leaned back in his chair with the windows behind him. He wanted to swivel around, stare out at the water, and wonder where Brittany was and what she was up to, but he had work to finish.

  “Everything looks great.” Elise closed her notebook. “All of the winter and Christmas festivals we’re in charge of planning are ready t
o go. The first one was a week and a half ago to coincide with the annual Christmas parade the weekend before Thanksgiving. There were three this weekend, and the rest are scattered over the next few weeks.”

  “Good. Then our holiday season should be pretty easy from here.”

  “Should be,” Elise agreed. “But Violet called and wants you to personally take on another job.”

  “Me personally?” He hadn’t done that in ages. Usually, he assigned one of his employees to handle them.

  “Small town. Winter festival. Parade. Typical stuff. It’s a resort town, too, so not just the locals.”

  “In other words, it needs to look good for out-of-towners and townies alike.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Why me personally?”

  Elise shrugged. “Who knows why Violet does anything? She wants you to handle this one personally. You’d be on location from as soon as you can get there until the 22nd of December unless you want to stay longer. Her words. Plenty of time to be home for Christmas.” The snark in her tone made Cole school his features carefully.

  Christmas didn’t hold much personal meaning for him anymore. His apartment was decorated because his housekeeper made sure it got done. But he gave all of his staff the day off and spent it alone, counting the minutes until he could go to bed and wake up knowing it would be 364 days until Christmas came again. Not because it depressed him, per se, but because he didn’t like spending a whole day alone.

  Cole held out his hand. “Where’s the file?”

  “She didn’t send one. There’s a local coordinator who has everything you need. She has it for now. You’ll have to get it from her.”

  Great. Local coordinators usually didn’t want to hand over control to someone from the outside. They wanted to keep it for themselves even if it meant the festival continued in the abysmal state it had been in for years already.

  Elise stood. “You’re already done here for the day. Why don’t you take off, pack to spend a few weeks in the Midwest, and get some sleep? Your flight is already scheduled for first thing in the morning.”