by Laura Simcox
His shoulders sagged, and he stared at Herman.
Herman stared right back. “What’s it gonna be, boy?”
Marcus was silent for a few minutes, and then an idea formed in his mind, one that might just work. And then he could cut all ties to his past, help Celebration, and get the hell out of Dodge.
“Hey, old man.” Marcus forced a smile. “You interested in buying the property back?”
A raspy hoot burst out of Herman’s lips. “You got to be kidding.”
“No. I’m quite serious.”
“Oh, hell, no, boy. That piece of land is yours.” He stabbed a bony finger at Marcus’s chest. “And you better do something good with it, or I’ll blackball you like nobody’s business. You won’t be able to show your face around here ever again.”
Marcus grinned. “Is that so?”
“You think it’s funny?”
Marcus leaned against his car door. “Yes. I already can’t show my face in Celebration. People in town think I’m the devil incarnate.”
“And why’s that?” Herman spit on the ground.
“Do I have to spell it out for you? I waltzed into Celebration like Megamart was God’s gift to failing little towns. I kept acting that way even when I didn’t have the land to build it. And then I had to blackmail a pathetic, old man to get that land. As if that wasn’t evil enough, I bought the only other viable place of employment and used it as leverage to get what I wanted. And if I build the Megamart, I’ll squash poor little downtown Celebration like a bug. So that’s why I’m the devil. Got it?”
Herman glared at him. “I ain’t pathetic. I knew that before you gave that little speech.”
Marcus ignored him. “And to top it off, I just cut ties with my new old man. The Parliaments are going to have to figure out a way to run that bakery on their own.”
There was silence for a moment, and Herman shook his head. “Shame on you.”
The passenger door to the chicken mobile creaked open, and Marcus’s head snapped up.
“Who’s in your car?”
A platinum-blond head peeked over the roof, followed by a wrinkled forehead, a pair of snapping eyes, and a ruby-red mouth. Colleen.
She slapped her palms on the Astroturf hood of the car and then wagged a finger. “Coward!” she yelled across the road.
“Yeah. Coward,” Herman echoed. He turned on his heel and went to fetch her. As the old couple hobbled across the road, Marcus gaped. They weren’t…were they?
When they arrived in front of his car, Colleen gave Marcus a shove. “I know what you’re thinking, and you’ve got a dirty mind. Nothing’s going on here. Herman and I have known each other since grade school, and I wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole.”
Marcus shut his mouth. “Fair enough.” He resisted the smile threatening to curl his lips. “How did you know I was here?”
He hadn’t even driven into town today, but had taken the interstate exit and come no farther than the field. Had Herman and Colleen been spying on him?
“Because you’ve been coming to this spot every morning since the day you broke my Ivy’s heart.” She pointed across the field. “The farmer over there and I have been friends since grade school, too. He’s been watching you. Haven’t you learned by now that tittle-tattle spreads like the plague around these parts? And I’m the reigning queen of gossip in Celebration.”
Marcus had no response to that. All he knew was that he had to get out of here before the dynamic geriatric duo ate him alive. “Well, it’s nice to see you, but I need to go.”
“What you need to do is make it right.” Colleen advanced on him until his back was shoved against the car window. She grabbed him by the necktie. “I know you’ve had a rough life, and I know it was a shock to find out who your father is. But you’ve got a big family now, fucked up though it may be. Do you know that you’re the only person in this town that can claim ties to the three most important families in town? You’re a Weaver and a Parliament. And if you play your cards right, you could be a Callahan. You’d be a fool to throw that away.” She paused and raised a sculpted eyebrow. “Are you a fool, Marcus?”
He had no answer.
She looked him up and down. “And stop wearing that silly coat and those sunglasses. You look like that guy from The Matrix. It’s creepy as shit.”
Marcus just stared at her.
“Being a fool is hard work, Toothpick. Take it from me.” Herman reached up with a gnarled hand and pulled Colleen’s fist away from Marcus’s tie. He patted her on the shoulder and with a gentle motion, turned her back toward the chicken car.
Marcus stood rooted to the road and watched as Herman helped the old lady inside, walked around, and slid into the driver’s seat. He slammed the door and tooted the cackle horn.
“Don’t be a fool,” he called, and then revved the engine and fishtailed down the road.
With a heavy sigh, Marcus turned and placed his forearms on the roof of his car. Resting his chin on his frozen hands, he stared at the empty field and tried to figure out what to do.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Ivy Louise! Sit still. You’re rumpling the mayor’s sash, and I just ironed it.” Delia gave a vicious yank to the strip of satin draped around Ivy’s shoulder. “There.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Ivy rolled her eyes and settled into the backseat of the vintage Thunderbird convertible. She smoothed her hands over the emerald-green silk suit she’d bought last night at the mall in Syracuse. As Marcus used to say, it fit her curves “just right,” and that alone should have cheered her. But it didn’t. Neither had spending New Year’s Eve in a luxury suite at a hotel. She’d been alone, and all the expensive bubble bath, fluffy down pillows, and room service hadn’t changed that fact.
And now here she was, the grand marshal of the annual Celebration New Year’s Day parade, sitting on a plush leather seat, all nice and toasty with a heater blowing warm air onto her feet. She should be comfortable, well rested, and excited. Hell, even her hair looked great today. And her lipstick, thanks to her grandmother, was dynamite. But she felt like shit. Broken hearts tended to do that to a person.
“You look beautiful, honey,” her mother said. “I’ll be waiting at the gazebo.” She gave Ivy a thumbs-up and stomped down the sidewalk.
“Ready?”
Ivy looked up and automatically smiled at the elderly man standing next to the car. “Sure. Thanks for loaning the car to the parade, Mr. Benson.”
Bill Benson’s white hair floated like feathers in the cold breeze. He chuckled. “Been doing it for fifty years, hon. It’s free advertising.” He adjusted the large, magnetic Benson’s Fine Autos sign on the side panel of the door and slid into the driver’s seat. Smoothing a hand over his bald spot, he slapped on a chauffeur’s cap. “Here we go.”
“Wait! Wait just a New York minute! I’m coming with you.”
Ivy turned her head to see her grandmother hobbling down the sidewalk pushing her walker. She wore a ridiculously large fur coat, a floppy beret, and sequined gloves.
Ivy grinned. “Hurry up, Gramma!”
“Like that’s going to help me move faster,” Colleen shot back, breathless.
Bill Benson stepped out of the car and opened the back door. “Morning, Colleen. You look good enough to…I mean. You look lovely. Nice to see you.”
Colleen stopped in front of him and looked him over. “Yes. I just bet it is nice to see me, Bill, you old devil.” She winked at him and took his arm. With a red face, he helped her into the backseat.
Ivy inclined her head. “Gramma, I think Mr. Benson has a little crush.”
“Oh, that’s a load of horseshit.” She waved a shiny glove in dismissal, then leaned forward and grabbed the front seat. “Bill, you planning on driving this thing or what?”
Two second later, the car lurched forward, slamming Colleen back against the seat.
She huffed. “Old man never was able to drive well. Don’t see how he managed to keep that car lot going all
these years.”
“I may be old, but I’m not deaf!” Bill called from the front.
Ivy reached over and squeezed her grandmother’s hand. “Don’t torture him, Gramma. It’s not nice to be mean to an old man who’s sweet on you.”
Colleen pulled a compact from the pocket of her giant coat and popped it open. She fluffed her hair and pressed her lips together. With a nod, she tucked it away and turned to Ivy. “And it’s not nice for a handsome young man to pass up a chance to win a young lady either.”
Ivy’s face fell. “Oh, Gramma. Why did you have to bring that up? I’ve got to spend the next two hours smiling my head off and pretending like nothing’s wrong.”
“I shouldn’t have said that—I’m sorry. You know I have trouble keeping my mouth shut.” She pouted at Ivy and reached over to grab her cheeks. “But chin up. You’re a Callahan, and you can do this.”
Ivy flashed her a quick smile and turned to look at the Christmas decorations that still festooned the lampposts on the residential end of Main Street. The tinsel bells were missing a lot of shiny parts, and the plastic wreaths drooped in places. Pathetic and ragged. Just like her heart.
She inhaled deeply and blew out, watching her breath fade into the cold morning light. She had to let it go.
So she sat up straight, raised her chin, and began to wave.
“That’s my girl,” her grandmother murmured. “Now, watch me. This is how the Queen of England does it. Except I’m better at it.”
Ivy glanced sideways and laughed as Colleen performed a stiff wave with her sequined glove.
As the caravan slowly approached the business district, the high-school band behind the convertible began to play. It was out of tune and deafening, and Ivy felt her pasted-on smile stretch farther across her cheeks. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone jogging alongside the back of the car. She turned her head. And then did a double take.
Preston ran next to the car wearing jogging shoes, a top hat, and a…diaper? The sash around his thin, bare chest read “Baby New Year.” In one hand he clutched an oversize rattle.
Ivy’s eyes went wide.
Preston, his face red, huffed and grabbed onto the bumper of the car. “Don’t look at me with those crazy eyes, Ivy. I hate that.”
Colleen turned her head and burst into a gale of laughter. “Oh, this is perfect!” She pulled her cell phone from her coat pocket and began snapping photos of Preston as he struggled to keep up with the car.
Preston narrowed his eyes. “Don’t say I never did anything for this town!” he said between gulps of air. “First the elf costume and now this. I’m not wearing a cupid costume for the Celebration Valentine Party. I draw the line.”
“A cupid outfit.” Ivy laughed. “But you’d look so cute.”
“Oh, Ivy, don’t tease me like that.” He winked. He actually winked. For once, Preston didn’t seem reproachful about their former relationship. “I know it’s hard to resist a man in a baby costume, but you’ve got try.”
Ivy bit the inside of her cheek to keep from snorting. “Understood. I’ll muddle through somehow. But you should really give some thought to the cupid idea. I think it’s marvelous.”
“I’m not here to talk dress-up. I need to tell you something.” Preston wheezed and jogged faster.
“What now?” Ivy sighed.
The band broke into a drum solo, and Preston’s words were swallowed up.
Ivy frowned. “What?”
“Gotta tell Bill. The route’s changed.”
Preston increased his pace and grabbed the door handle to keep up with the car. “Tell Bill. He’s supposed to go past the gazebo and all the way out to the edge of town. Then he can turn around.”
“Why?”
Preston panted and then gulped in a breath. “I don’t have time to explain. My chest is going to explode, Ivy. Just tell him!” With a wheeze, big baby Preston let go of the car and stumbled toward the curb.
She looked at her grandmother and shrugged. Colleen stared back with her “I’ve got gossip” grin. And Ivy bet dollars to doughnuts that she did.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Just smile and wave dear. Smile and wave.”
Ivy complied, and her grin became real when the crowd on the sidewalks of Main Street cheered in response. Near the gazebo, she spotted Ronald, his comb-over flapping in the breeze. Next to him stood Alberta in a bright orange parka. The older woman cupped her gloved hands around her mouth and began a chant.
“Ivy! Ivy! Ivy!”
The crowd joined in, and Ivy bit her lower lip to keep the tears at bay. She waved harder and blew a kiss. It was good to be home. Her parents had been so right. She belonged here.
Bill Benson slowed the car and started to pull over. Remembering Preston’s request, Ivy gasped and leaned forward. “Bill. Bill! I forgot to tell you. You’re supposed to drive on. Go to the highway.”
“Why?”
Colleen thumped him on the back. “Because I said so.”
“Good enough for me.” Bill maneuvered the convertible back to the middle of the road, and as it passed the gazebo, Ivy strained her head to catch a glimpse of her parents. There they were on the platform, arms around each other, chanting along with the crowd. She waved at them and settled back into the seat. Yeah. It was good to be home.
“Ivy, there’s a surprise waiting for you.”
She looked at her grandmother, who stared straight ahead, her mouth twisting into a devilish smile.
“Uh-oh. Is it going to ruin my day?”
“It doesn’t have to. Up to you, I suppose.”
Ivy turned sideways. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Hush, dear. You’re forgetting to smile and wave again. What do I have to do? Attach a stick to your arm and do it for you?”
Heaving a sigh, Ivy stuck her arm out again and plastered the smile back on her face. She didn’t want a surprise. She just wanted to get through the seesaw of emotions from the day and then go back to her empty house and watch a crappy movie on her newly installed cable TV.
The band struck up a dubious arrangement of “Auld Lang Syne,” and Ivy tried not to cringe. If this went on much longer, she was going to need a whole bottle of aspirin to get through the afternoon. Her stomach rumbled. Dammit, why had she skipped breakfast? She never did that. Placing a hand on her middle, she threw her hand up and waved mechanically.
Next to her, Colleen groaned. “I don’t even like this fucking song, but the butchering has got to stop.” She twisted around and pointed a finger at the drum major, who marched a few steps behind the convertible. “You! That sounds like a funeral march for a mob boss. Get them to play something else, for God’s sake!”
The gangly teenager shoved back his tall hat and stilled his baton. “Ma’am?”
“Do you still play ‘Ode to Joy’ when you win football games?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then play it! Today is the happiest day in my granddaughter’s life.” Colleen turned around with a huff and glanced at Ivy.
Trepidation spread through Ivy’s empty stomach. “Gramma, what are you up to?”
She sighed in response. “Only about five foot two. I’m shrinking, or at least that’s what the doctor says. Pretty soon I’ll be the size of Tinkerbell.”
Ivy looked at her with wary eyes and then glanced at the side of the road. The crowd was thinning. In front of the car, the road stretched into the countryside. There were no people. “What’s waiting for me at the end of Main Street?”
Colleen ignored the question and twisted in the seat again. “Young man. Play the flippin’ song!”
“Nice job, Gramma. You didn’t say ‘fuck.’”
“I don’t curse in front of kids,” she retorted.
Behind her, Ivy heard the band burst forth with the opening notes of “Ode To Joy.” It sounded amazing compared to the off-key rendition of the maudlin New Year’s Eve classic that had preceded it. “Ode To Joy” w
as full of hope, and dare she think it, promise. She smiled.
“Good choice, Gramma.”
“Thank me later,” her grandmother muttered as she scooted forward in her seat. “Oh, hot damn. There we go.”
“What?” Ivy leaned forward. “I don’t see anything.”
And then as the car rolled down a short hill, she saw.
A jolt of adrenaline rushed through her, and she gripped the headrest in front of her. “Oh. My. God.” She stood up.
Colleen grabbed her skirt and yanked. “Sit back down! I’m not letting you fall to your death before the man even gets his chance.”
Ivy tumbled backward into the seat. Just as quickly, she stood up again and shaded her eyes. “What’s he doing?”
Marcus stood on the top of a tall, narrow brick wall, his arms folded across his chest, looking at the ground below him. His sleek, navy suit was filthy and rumpled. As the car descended the hill, his head snapped up, and with a slow movement of his hand, he removed his sunglasses.
God, he was hot. Desire, unexpected and thrilling, flamed to life while Ivy stared back at him.
Marcus grinned at her and gestured to his right. She turned her head and saw a plastic sign stretched between two stakes. It was crooked and flapped in the cold breeze, but she could read it. And it made her face light up like fireworks.
Coming Soon.
Sunnyside Retirement Village II
Celebration, NY
“Surprised?” asked Colleen as the convertible rolled to a stop.
Ivy nodded and perched on the edge of the car door. She swung her legs to the ground and pressed her fingers to her lips. She couldn’t take her eyes off Marcus, who stood above her on the wall, his face shining with joy. She’d only seen that look on him a few times before, and it had always been fleeting, when his guard was down for only the slightest of moments. She shivered.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he called.
She cocked her head to the side. “Whatcha doing up there, Bond? Waiting for a helicopter to make your getaway?”