by Kate Rorick
“There’s nothing like this store in Needleton—comic lovers stuck in the suburbs have to go into the city to get their in-person comic fix; I can siphon them off. I know the market and what customers are looking for. I have connections from my D&D groups in LA; one bookstore owner even offered me a monthly column on his website, which is good promo and offers credibility. I would have a physical store for weekly releases and to hold stock—there’s a storefront on Main Street that’s an amazing location, right next to the coffee shop, and we will turn it into something beautiful and classy, not junky and dusty like most comic shops—but a good portion of my business would be online. Selling things like that.” She pointed to the book.
She had a bunch of other points in her business plan. She could have kept going—a parent/kid comic book club was something she was really excited about—but the look on Rob’s face told her to hold off.
Because Rob looked . . . intrigued.
Daisy’s heart swelled. Maybe . . . maybe this was possible.
“I love this idea, Daze,” he said, rubbing his chin. “Trust me, I would have died for a comic shop in Needleton when I was a kid.”
“But . . .”
“But . . . where are we going to get the money?” he rationalized. “We are so tight as it is.”
“Well . . . we kind of do have the money,” Daisy replied. “The down payment fund.”
“You want to use the money we are saving up to buy this house?” His eyebrows disappeared under his baseball cap. Then he snorted a laugh. “Where would we live?”
“I don’t want to move out—just delay the purchase. See if Grandpa Bob would hold off on his gift for a year, if your uncle could wait for the purchase to go through. And then if the store isn’t viable, we’d know it.”
“Daze . . .” Rob’s face lost all trace of humor. “You’re talking about risking our future. For—”
“For our future,” she finished for him. “A different version of it. The more I’ve thought about this, the more I’m convinced it’s what I need to do.”
“I . . . I think we’re going to need more than your assurance that you can do this to sell Grandpa Bob and my uncle on the idea,” Rob replied. “I don’t know how to convince them. My uncle especially. They don’t really understand this kind of stuff. When I made the move to LA my uncle thought I was insane for pursuing a dream.”
“Your uncle understands money, right?” Daisy challenged. “How about this—if I sell Chainmail for over a grand—over fifteen hundred—in the Family Fun Fest silent auction, would that be proof enough?”
“It would certainly go a ways to show your knowledge and the fact that there’s money in comics and games,” Rob replied. Then, after a moment, “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.” He leaned over and kissed her. “Better get to selling that book.”
The way she kissed him back . . . well, suffice it to say, it was a good thing Carrie took a long nap that day.
But Daisy found she didn’t have time for many such interludes. Because March quickly gave way to April and Daisy spent the time running running running to get everything done and perfect for the Family Fun Fest.
So by the night before the big day, Daisy was just about out of juice. She had done everything she could. Workers would begin arriving in the morning, bouncy houses, miniature trains, and goldfish would be arriving shortly thereafter. The big yard had been cleaned and cleared yesterday, ready for its transformation. Everything was going to be perfect. Daisy had nothing left to do but sleep.
She woke up the next morning well rested, utterly focused, ready to go. She opened up the kitchen blinds as she started the coffeemaker, ready to greet the day she had been killing herself for.
And it was pouring.
Daisy stood there, utterly gobsmacked, long enough for her coffee to burn, one single thought running through her mind.
Oh FUCK.
How . . . how was it raining? There wasn’t any rain in the forecast! It had been nothing but clear, bright blue sky on every single weather update she’d been tracking. There wasn’t even a hint of wind! This was supposed to be the perfect early April weekend!
It would be one thing if it was a drizzle that would clear up by midmorning—basically a little spritz just to clear the dirt away. But no, this was a full-on, straight-down pour, and the darkness of the sky indicated that it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
Snapping out of it, she quickly moved to the living room, and flipped on the TV. She sat through three minutes of early morning news (Red Sox fans were lining up for opening day already, and traffic was abysmal) before they got to the weather.
“. . . cold pressure system moved in swiftly overnight, and parked itself over the southern Boston region. Keep those rain boots handy, because it’s going to be hanging around for a while—”
Daisy turned the TV off. No need to belabor the point—it was raining, it wasn’t stopping, and the Family Fun Fest was going to be soaked.
Daisy checked her clock: just 6:00 AM. The first deliveries were slated to begin at the school in an hour. She had to start reacting. She had to start canceling everything.
First thing first, though, she had to tell Shanna.
Shanna picked up the phone with a muffled and sleepy, “Hello?”
“Shanna, it’s Daisy. Look outside.”
“. . . Daisy?” Shanna replied. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong is that it’s raining! Like, really really raining!”
“It’s raining?” Shanna sounded awake now. Even alarmed. Daisy could hear her leveraging herself out of bed and the footfalls across the floor, presumably to a window.
“Oh, my god . . . ,” Shanna said, after a few moments. “Oh my god—what are we going to do?”
“We have to cancel,” Daisy replied. “We have insurance policies for most of the rentals—we can reschedule to the backup date. There will be a small penalty for the move but at least—”
“Okay . . . what’s the backup date?” Shanna asked.
Daisy nearly dropped the phone.
“Are you telling me you never set a backup date?” Before dropping everything in my lap, she wanted to scream.
“Are you telling me you didn’t?” Shanna’s voice bit out.
“No, Shanna, I didn’t. If there’s no backup date, then we have to cancel the whole festival outright.”
“No! Daisy, we can’t cancel!” Shanna cut in. “We are not canceling the Family Fun Fest.”
“But . . . everything is outside! There’s a petting zoo!”
“Figure out how to make it inside,” Shanna snapped. “Really, didn’t you plan for this contingency?”
“Me?” she practically screeched. This isn’t my job! she wanted to scream. You made me do this! But she couldn’t. Partially because, at this point, she had taken over so completely, it was her responsibility. And partially because . . . she hadn’t planned for this. She’d assumed there was a backup scheduled. And, as she tracked the weather, it just continually listed sun, sun sun sun sun . . . so she didn’t concern herself with less and less likely scenarios.
Because up until yesterday, it wasn’t going to rain—so why bother planning for it?
“I am not giving up. People are expecting a Family Fun Fest today, they are getting a Family Fun Fest. Shanna Stone does not fail. Understood?”
“Shanna, it’s going to be awful . . . impossible . . .”
“You can’t cancel anything, because as Parent Association president, I’m the one who signed all the leases you brought me, I would have to be the one to cancel them. So start figuring out how to make this an inside festival. Now, if you’ll excuse me, according to my doctor I need another hour of sleep.”
Daisy stared at the phone for several seconds after Shanna hung up.
Daisy could have chucked it all. She could have walked away, washed her hands of it, called Shanna crazy and let the Little Wonders gossip mill eviscerate her. In fact, that sounde
d like the best possible option at the moment. But . . .
But . . . Daisy wasn’t a quitter, either. The kids, the teachers, the parents—they were all looking forward to this day so, so much. Heck, the auction website had already started. Bids were being placed. In some ways the Family Fun Fest had already begun.
And . . . Daisy had an idea forming. Something that she could do to make the Family Fun Fest unforgettable. And if not unforgettable, at least fun, and dry.
Swiftly, she dialed her phone again.
“Daisy?” Quinn said, picking up on the second ring. She too sounded sleepy, but the call had alarmed her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m sorry to wake you,” Daisy said.
“I finished The Brand New Home nursery last night. I am exhausted,” Quinn said on a yawn. “But nothing some coffee can’t cure. What’s up?”
“What’s up is that I have eight hours to save the Family Fun Fest.”
* * *
Eight hours later, the rain was still coming down, but the Little Wonders Family Fun Fest (and Silent Auction) was absolutely rocking. And Daisy was riding a high of adrenaline and caffeine that should be regulated by the FDA. But she had done it. Somehow, she had taken an outdoor festival and managed to shove it inside, without losing many of the events, or any of the fun.
“This is amazing,” Robbie said, as he walked down the Little Wonders hall, now done over to look like a board game. Each primary-colored tile was part of the Candy Land-esque path, leading the kids from one event to another in each of the different rooms.
“Thank you,” Daisy said, taking his hand. “It was . . . a challenge.”
“You rose to it.”
Things had to be pared down, of course. The three bouncy houses became one, the train and the soccer league were both gone, not to mention several of the carnival-esque games that simply did not fit inside buildings, and the food trucks were converted to stalls, walking back and forth to the trucks for freshly made tacos, sandwiches, and chipped ice.
In between fielding phone calls and texts from parents asking if the festival was still on, posting updates to the Facebook group and the Slack saying, “Yes, we are still on” but not adding “because Shanna is a slave-driving lunatic,” Daisy and Quinn managed to rearrange the entire event.
Half of the festivities found a new home inside the large, historic barn on school grounds. Interestingly, since it was a historical landmark, it was not nearly as decrepit on the inside as she had been led to believe by the outside. It was structurally reinforced and very sound. And since the chickens had moved to their outdoor coop at the beginning of the month, it was unoccupied.
The petting zoo and the remaining bouncy house were very happily ensconced in there, as well as some of the games that needed the space: the strongman striker game, the milk bottle toss, the corn hole game. Anything that involved hitting, or throwing more than a Ping-Pong ball, was not going to make it inside Little Wonders itself.
The inside of Little Wonders had been transformed by Quinn’s hand—which was no mean feat, considering they did it in less than a day, and while school was in session.
Once Quinn and Daisy had hung up that morning, Quinn chugged down some coffee and dug out her crafting supplies. Untouched since the creation of the ill-fated Halloween spaceship, she and Hamilton loaded every can of paint, brush, cardboard frame, and tube of glitter she had into the car and drove over to the school. They made a pit stop at the craft store on the way, the very first customers inside, and cleaned out the fabric section.
Meanwhile Daisy loaded up her car with every single board game, action figurine, poster, and costume that she had (that was age appropriate, that is). They convened at the school. While Quinn began to transform the auditorium, Daisy had stood outside the school, under her umbrella, basically accosting parents dropping off their kids, begging them for help. She was practically giving away two-for-one deals on volunteer hours—no doubt once the final tally came in, Suzy Breakman-Kang’s head was going to spin around Exorcist style.
She didn’t have much luck—most people had to go to work, after all—until Charlie and Calvin’s moms came, and with them ladders, sewing kits, and a working knowledge of how to put things together. They also had the help of the teachers, who ducked out of class when they could to give them a hand. Because nobody but nobody knows how to wield construction paper and a wall stapler like a preschool teacher.
And once Daisy had convinced Ms. Anna to let the classrooms “visit” each other, Quinn got access to the Tadpole Room, the Iguana Room, and the Rainbow Room, and turned them into their themes.
The Rainbow Room became a princess’s tower. Pink and white fabric hung from the ceiling like a circus tent, giving the entire space a “PG-rated harem” vibe. It was where the dress-up house and face painting were set up, as well as a backdrop for a “photo booth.” Daisy, with all of her cosplay experience, was the lead makeup artist, and all the little kids were happy to trade their tickets to be transformed into a unicorn or a tiger, or in the case of one enterprising young man, a Sharknado.
The Iguana Room became a jungle. Green streamers and cloth (left over from St. Patrick’s Day) hung from the ceiling tiles, making a path for kids to pass through. The smoke machine (left over from the dance party portion of the Happy Halloween Parade and Dance Party) made a reappearance, and Robbie was sent out on a mission for dry ice. In the Jungle Room, they managed to relocate the few carnival games they could accommodate inside—the Goldfish Toss, renamed the Piranha Toss, and the Cake Walk, now called a “Trek Through the Amazon.” Everyone had an amazing time exploring the jungle.
But the third room was Daisy’s favorite. She’d reimagined the Tadpole Room into the Dungeon Room. Quinn had found at the craft store a fabric patterned with large stones, so when hung all around the room, it looked like they were in the belly of a massive underground dungeon. And Daisy had one of her cosplay outfits that looked the most like a suit of armor posted at the door on a mannequin she’d borrowed from the Cranberry Boutique—what Elaine didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
This was the Escape Room.
Tickets were paid for at the entrance. To get out, you had to play a game—board games like Candy Land, Chutes and Ladders, Sneaky Snacky Squirrel, Uno Attack, Don’t Wake Daddy, Mousetrap, kid-size Jenga. Or a game of Simon Says, Red Rover (not easy to play inside but when needs must), or the game where you fished rubber duckies out of a kiddie pool, whatever that was called.
When you won, you were given a small prize and allowed out—only to have most of the kids come running back in, eager to play again.
However, while those rooms were filled with fun, all paths led to the auditorium/multipurpose room, where the stage had been given over to the musical acts. Currently, a young woman with a rainbow wig named Zuzu who played nursery songs at everyone’s third birthday party in the Needleton area was currently on the stage, and the kids were enthralled, clapping along with a silly version of “Wheels on the Bus.”
While the kids grooved out to the classics, their parents could peruse the silent auction items and the raffle baskets, where they had been placed in long rows for easy bidding and ticket entering. And at the far end of the room, was the pièce de résistance . . . the Easter Bunny.
Aka, Robbie, in a rental Bunny Suit.
Daisy had snuck over to him as he finished handing out jelly beans to Elia. He broke free from the little girl’s hug and made his way over to Daisy.
“Where’s Carrie?” he asked.
“In the Dungeon Room, of course,” Daisy replied. No doubt making sure everyone played by the rules of each game. “Quinn is keeping an eye on her.”
Quinn was running the Dungeon Room. While it might have been more Daisy’s speed, she was needed for her face-painting skills in the Princess Room, and Quinn was also impressively capable of running multiple games at once.
Daisy should take her to Vegas.
“How’s the face painting going?” They’d
ducked behind the stage curtain, where Rob could take off his bunny head, and take a drink of water, without scaring the kids.
“Did you see the lizard I did on Hamilton? He looked like he was in the remake of V. I think that’s my pièce de résistance.”
“Seriously,” Rob replied. “You should consider making geek game parties part of your business plan. This turned out amazing.”
“Are . . . are you serious?” she asked. “You’re going to back my plan?”
“After this, how could I not?” Rob replied. “Besides, I checked the online part of the auction about a half hour ago. Chainmail is already up over three grand.”
“It is?” Daisy squealed in excitement. “Yes!!”
“One day you’ll have to explain to me why we donated that to a preschool auction instead of selling it for ourselves. That could have gone a long way toward outfitting your store.”
“Don’t worry,” Daisy replied. “You don’t know what else was in that box.”
“Really?” His eyebrows went sky high. “Like what?”
Daisy was about to tell him about the Dave Arneson–signed original Blackmoor campaign–setting booklet, but they were interrupted when Jamie ducked his head behind the curtain.
“Hey, Rob—you’d better get back out there. A line of sugared-up toddlers is forming. Mutiny is on the horizon.”
“On it.” And with one last very sweaty kiss, Rob ducked back into the auditorium, to his adoring fans.
Daisy remained behind the curtain for an extra couple of seconds. Just to take a moment, to take a breath, and enjoy the fruits of her crazy, crazy day.
“Thank you,” came Jamie’s voice from beside her. She jumped slightly—she’d forgotten he was there. “I know that Shanna can be a bit crazy these days, but you really, really came through for her.”
Daisy smiled up at Jamie. Daisy actually hadn’t seen much of Shanna since the start of the festival. She had obviously been texting her all day long, blowing up her phone with “Just checking in!” and “I’m sure everything will fit inside, just talk to Ms. Anna.” Daisy texted back with unspecific but firm reassurances, but eventually was so busy she could barely do more than text back a thumbs-up emoji. Then, about fifteen minutes before the doors opened, Shanna arrived, hoping to put the final touches on everything. When she saw just what had been pared down, and what state the rooms were in with only fifteen minutes to go, she nearly broke down in tears, such was her panic.