First Choice, Second Chance

by Lynn Rae

  “Hi, Paul,” a soft and familiar voice spoke up from behind him, and he turned to find Emily standing there, giving him a slight smile. She was wearing some sort of green, frilly scarf around her neck that made the color of her eyes gleam. He swallowed and fumbled for something to say.

  “Emily, I…” He stuttered to a stop. He was saved from embarrassing silence by the arrival of Mike, who’d waded through the crowd with smiles and handshakes.

  “I’m Mike Laskey, Paul’s brother-in-law. Shelly’s husband. And you’re Emily Fontaine, the promo wizard.”

  Emily blushed at Mike’s compliment and gave a slight shake of her head, her gaze flickering away from his. “Not much of a wizard, I just peck around on the computer a lot.”

  “Did you get some good pictures?” Paul spoke up, and she nodded as she stepped closer to allow people to pass by. He’d crossed a street filled with hazardous parade objects to see her and all he could think to do was ask her about work?

  “Not as interesting as the monument ones, but a few will probably be good enough to go online later.” She glanced up at the cloudy sky. “I wish we’d had a little more sun today.”

  “That’s the trick with having the festival this late; the weather’s iffy every year,” Mike said as he glanced around them. “Shelly’s been working herself into a lather about this cold front coming it. Or as much of a lather as she can with a cane.”

  “Do you think she needs my help?” Emily asked, and her smile lessened. Paul wanted to tell her she shouldn’t spend her day running and fetching for his sister, but it wasn’t true. She needed her job, and Shelly was the one who was going to decide if she was doing it well. And she was already working hard on her day off.

  “Not unless you can magically make everything go her way. I’ve been trying for twenty-eight years this June and still haven’t quite met her standards.” Mike grinned with pride, and then he glanced at Paul and sobered. Paul knew he was thinking of his loss and how he no longer had anniversaries to celebrate, but Paul was actually thinking Emily was just a few years older than that. A good thing to keep in mind since he was becoming distracted by her presence yet again.

  “Congratulations. Shelly knows so much about this town and how things work; I’m learning a lot from her.”

  “Even with her out of the office?” Mike laughed. “I can’t wait until she gets the green light to go back. Every day it’s a new list from her.”

  Emily offered up a nod of understanding and shuffled her feet. She glanced at him, and their eyes locked. Okay, so he missed her. Those few times they’d had together made an impression, and he wished, yet again, there weren’t so many reasons to keep his distance.

  A few jarring musical notes of “Hail to the Chief,” interrupted the claps of the crowd around them, and Mike reached into his jacket pocket for his phone. “Speak of the devil.”

  Paul didn’t want to listen in on Mike’s one-sided conversation with Shelly, which meant he should talk with Emily. He was glad they were in the middle of a crowd, and Mike was there to distract him; otherwise all he’d be thinking about would be Emily’s mouth and how much he wanted to kiss her again.

  “How have you been?” Emily spoke up as she wrapped her hands protectively around the camera.

  “Fine. Resting up so I have plenty of energy for the Sugar Beet Festival.” She smiled at his lame joke, and he felt better.

  “I’ve been running myself ragged all week because of it. Don’t tell anyone.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice as Paul automatically edged her way. “But I’ll be glad when it’s done.”

  “The glamorous allure of sugar beets has worn off, hmm?”

  “It has,” she agreed with a comical scowl. “I’m trusting you with a confession now, but I’m not sure I care to see another sugar beet again.”

  Emily glanced around her as if expecting frowns and disapproval from the Palmerites around her. No one was paying attention that he could see.

  Paul cleared his throat. He wanted to say something significant, something that would ease things between them but saying “I missed you” to someone he’d rejected as gently as he could wasn’t easy. “Emily, I, uh…”

  Her gaze met his unflinchingly, and he was struck dumb again. Dumb in both meanings of the word.

  “You’re joking. Shelly, did you take one too many muscle relaxants today?” Mike’s raised voice caught Paul’s attention as well as several other folks nearby. His brother-in-law’s mouth hung open, and his eyes were wide with shock. He shook his head a couple of times and then shut his mouth, meeting Paul’s gaze with an inscrutable look. Emily had edged closer to his elbow as she watched, and he wanted to rest his hand against the small of her back. That wasn’t the only part of her he wanted to touch, truth be told.

  “Fine. On my way.” Mike ended the call and sucked in a deep breath through his nose. He focused on the two of them. “Finished watching the parade? Let’s go. Both of you.”

  “Where?”

  “What?”

  Both he and Emily spoke at once, but Mike just shook his head.

  “Not here. Paul, where are you parked? I’m blocked in at the municipal lot.” Mike waved a hand in the direction of the parade route. The band had stopped marching in front of the town hall, and there was no way to get a vehicle past the clot of spectators, uniformed kids, and decorated flatbed trailers pulled by everything from four-wheelers to horses.

  “Behind the tattoo place, but—”

  Mike didn’t wait, but instead, he plunged through the crowd, waving to people who he recognized but not slowing. Paul succumbed to temptation and reached around to guide Emily through the mass. She tilted her head and gave him a sidelong glance before following Mike. They made their way around people clapping along to the marching band’s rendition of the Palmer High School fight song.

  Mike stopped at the side of the Tesla, and as soon as Paul unlocked the vehicle he had the door open.

  “This is yours?” Emily asked with raised eyebrows as she approached the red sedan.

  “It is.” Paul tried to assess how to load his passengers. Mike was a big enough guy he wouldn’t be comfortable in the small backseat, but he didn’t want to ask Emily to sit there. He wanted her next to him with a sudden, and nearly painful, longing. Mike took one look at him and rolled his eyes.

  “Don’t get all weird. I’ll sit in back; there’s plenty of room.” He plunged into the backseat, and Paul turned to Emily, only just aware he still had his hand on her waist. As he drew it away, she blushed and took a seat on the passenger side, not meeting his gaze as he shut the door for her. Wondering what the hell was going on with Mike and Shelly, and himself for that matter, Paul hurried around the front of the car, got in, and started it up before throwing it into reverse.

  “Where to?”

  “The park. Something’s wrong with your statue.”

  Emily stayed mum for the five-minute ride to the park. The car’s silence and Mike’s presence in the back seat repressed her, and she wasn’t sure what she would have said anyway. She hadn’t seen Paul since she’d thrown herself at him in his backyard, and when she’d spotted him across the street during the parade, her heart had plummeted. But she’d stared at him anyway, at least until the band’s flags had obscured him and she could collect herself. Before she could decide what direction was best for an escape, he stood on the sidewalk next to her. She didn’t have it in her to sneak away, so instead, she’d mustered the courage to say hello. As usual since she’d met him, she’d grown warm under the regard of his soft brown gaze. He’d consumed her attention so thoroughly she wasn’t even sure what she’d said to Mike Laskey.

  Now, her stomach fluttered as she watched his hands on the steering wheel and wondered what had happened to the statue to prompt Shelly to summon her husband, as well as the added bonus of her and Paul.

  The park was nearly deserted since most inhabitants were busy at the parade a block away, and as Paul rounded the corner, Emily saw a police crui
ser parked directly in front of the monument. At least it didn’t have its flashers on. Paul pulled in next to the other car, and they exited the vehicle and walked through the grass and fallen leaves toward the statue at the center of the park. Emily peered at it in the dusky light of the overcast evening and realized, with a start, the head was missing. A shocked breath jolted out of her, and she reflexively reached out for Paul’s hand.

  They stopped and stared at the decapitated bronze soldier. Bright gold saw marks bisected the neck of the statue in contrast to the dark patina of the shoulders. Everything else on the monument—the bird droppings, the replica rifle and bayonet, the cobwebs under the arms—was intact.

  Shelly limped up to them, her cane sinking into the uneven ground as she grimaced. Mike went to her side and wrapped an arm around her as she peered with narrowed eyes at Emily and Paul’s interlaced fingers. With a fumble they let go of each other Shelly gave a shake of her head. A police officer made his way from around the back of the stone base, and Emily recognized him as the man who’d stopped to offer assistance after the deer close call. Angie’s nephew.

  “Look what they’ve done!” The mayor’s voice was filled with frustration and outrage, and Emily couldn’t blame her. The vandalism was shocking and almost personal. She’d spent a lot of time with the poor bronze man lately, and the idea that someone had callously chopped off his head was upsetting.

  “Do we have any idea who?” Paul asked as the four of them rearranged themselves in a loose semicircle to take in the damage. Emily wondered how much the head had weighed, and if the thieves had needed a cart to carry it off.

  “No, there’s no conveniently dropped wallet or monogrammed handkerchief left behind,” Shelly snapped back, and Emily winced. “And Mitchell here informs me the bronze and stone won’t give up any fingerprints, so we’re out of luck.”

  “Probably wore gloves anyway,” Mike said under his breath as he crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Thanks for that insight.” Shelly shut her husband down with an angry look, and he pressed his lips together. “Here’s what we need to do; I’ve already called Tiny at the city garage, and he’s on his way with a cherry picker and some tarps to cover it up for the night.”

  “Good idea, forecast calls for rain,” Paul said.

  “Emily, before he gets here, I want you to take pictures. I know the light’s not good, but do the best you can.”

  Emily was relieved to have something to do and with a nod of acknowledgement she left them and circled the base of the statue, searching for the best angle to take a few photos. There was no contrast no matter how she aimed the camera. Every time she looked up and was shocked anew by the lost head, she wondered who would have done it and why.

  She snapped a few shots and checked them in the display. They weren’t great, but she wasn’t going to get any better tonight.

  She was startled when Officer Mitchell spoke to her. He was standing a few feet away and smiling as he folded up his notebook. Emily greeted him and put the lens cap back on the camera.

  “So, what do you think happened?” she asked after she glanced over at the others. Mike was nodding as Shelly talked, and Paul had been looking at her. When he noticed her glance back, he gave her a brief smile and refocused on his sister’s commentary.

  “It had to be a two-man job at the least. Or two person,” the officer corrected himself with a smile. “You’d need a good ladder and some strong arms to saw it off.”

  “You think they used a handsaw?” Emily was skeptical, it would have taken a long time and surely someone would have noticed people clambering all over the statue. Then again, everyone had been distracted by the Sugar Beet Festival activities all day, and this part of the park wasn’t easily viewed from the street because of all the trees.

  “Probably not. A reciprocating saw with a good blade would get right through it. It’s not that thick, and the noise would have sounded similar to a leaf blower.” He hitched at his creaking leather belt to readjust it and shifted his feet. “My theory is it was a prank done by kids worked up over tomorrow afternoon’s football game. It’s a big rivalry, toughest game of the year.”

  Emily nodded. She’d only been in town a few months but was certainly aware of the vicious competitiveness between Palmer and Western High School. “So, you think we’ll ever see the head again?”

  He shook his head. “If they’re smart, they’ve already thrown it in a pond somewhere. Then again, most people aren’t smart.”

  Emily grinned. “If they were, you wouldn’t have much to do, would you?”

  “You got that right,” he agreed and took a step closer. “Hey, I was wondering, are you busy tomorrow afternoon? I was planning on going to the game, and we could go together if you like. I can warn you away from the bad stuff at the concession stand and show you the best seats.”

  Emily blinked at his change in topic. He was nice, and under normal circumstances, whatever those were, she might have agreed. But worry over what she might have to do on behalf of the injured monument and the mayor made her hesitate. Seeing Paul’s lanky frame from the corner of her eye also distracted her.

  “I have a feeling I’m going to be working on this problem tomorrow. But thanks for the invitation.”

  Mitchell nodded easily. “I’ll try again some other time.”

  Before she could think of something to say, his radio squawked, and he stepped away to speak with the garbled voice. She made her way back to the others. The gloomy evening had taken on a damp and eerie feel, and she suddenly wanted to get away from this dark and silent place with the mangled, headless statue looming over them. As she approached, Paul noticed her and turned her way.

  “Did you get any good ones?”

  “Not really.”

  “Send me what you did get,” Shelly spoke up as she awkwardly pivoted to face them. “I have to call the paper and give them the story the way I want it. If I wait around for them to interview me, they’ll have turned it into some alien visitation gone wrong. So no talking to anyone about this until it’s public knowledge.”

  The mayor gave them a pointed look, and both she and Paul nodded. Emily wondered if she was going to be called in to the office to explain why she’d been holding Paul’s hand. A slow wave of rebellion rose in her and Emily decided she wasn’t going to let her boss intimidate her. It was bad enough to have the woman snap at her and never give a compliment, but she wasn’t going to let the mayor cause her stress before the fact. She’d worry about questions and a reprimand once they happened and not before.

  “That’s all I have for you, Emily.” Shelly dismissed her as she got out her phone and scrolled through numbers, presumably to call a reporter at the paper. “Don’t forget to send me those pictures.”

  “I won’t. Good-night. It was nice to meet you, Mike.” Emily offered her hand which the other man shook with a weary grin. He should look tired; his wife would probably have him running the rest of the evening.

  Courtesy completed, Emily turned to Paul and opened her mouth to say goodbye, but he started first.

  “Do you need to return the camera?”

  “It’s mine.” She hadn’t wanted to borrow a camera on a day threatening rain and run the risk of being bumped in the parade crowd, so she’d brought along her old point and shoot. The lack of fancy lenses probably had something to do with the fact she hadn’t gotten many good shots.

  “Are you set, Mike?” Paul got the nod from his brother-in-law. “Emily, can I walk you to your car?”

  “I didn’t drive. I knew parking would be a problem.”

  “Then I’ll take you home. It’s too cold to walk.”

  Blinking at his decisiveness, Emily took a step his way but stopped when Shelly spoke up.

  “Paul, I need you here to finish up with the police officer, I’m going to be on the phone with the paper in just a sec—”

  The reporter must have picked up, because Shelly turned away and began pleasant greetings.

 
; “Go on, Paul. I’ll deal with the five-o.” Mike grinned and made a shooing gesture. Shelly didn’t seem to notice as she spoke into the phone, her face a careful mask of restraint.

  Once they reached Paul’s car, he opened the door for her, and Emily sank into the plush interior with gratitude. The creepiness of the whole episode was wearing on her, and it felt good to be inside a high-tech machine. It gave her the illusion some things were under control.

  Paul got in the driver’s side, closed his door, and exhaled deeply. “First, I’m going to apologize for my sister. Again. She’s not usually like that.”

  In Emily’s experience, the other woman had always been exactly like that, but she wasn’t going to run down her boss to her own flesh and blood. She shrugged instead and used her scarf to wipe condensation from her camera. Her breath was already starting to fog the windows.

  “Second, I…” Paul trailed off, and Emily glanced over at him. He was frowning and looking at his hands. “I’m not sure what to say.”

  “About what?” Emily was confused, too. Confused by the specter of the headless statue, confused by Shelly’s enmity, confused as to why her tentative reaching out to Paul had become such a complicated issue. None of it made a clear picture, and she was too tired and stressed to decipher it now. “The statue? I don’t have any idea why anyone would do such a nasty thing. It was gruesome seeing it like that, wasn’t it?”

  Paul started the car; the engine turned over with a gentle hum, and the touchscreen glowed to life. Emily wanted to stare at it but that seemed invasive of the car’s privacy, or maybe Paul’s. He backed out of the parking space, and Emily glanced back at the statue barely visible in the gloom.

  “I don’t know who would do that to Great-Great-Uncle Peter. My guess is kids playing a really bad prank.”

  “That’s what Mitchell thinks. He figures they’ve already thrown the evidence in a pond somewhere, and we’ll never get it back.”

  Paul sighed and checked his mirrors as they pulled out into the remains of the parade traffic. It was congested for a Friday evening in Palmer; they had to wait behind more than four cars at the intersection. The car slowed to a stop and idled quietly. “Are you…did Mitchell, ah…”