Page 106 of Bears of Firefly Valley: The Reasons Collection (Bears of Firefly Valley Boxed Sets #1)
THIS ISN’T HOW IT ENDS
I threw the door to Twice-Told Tales open.
Pausing for dramatic effect, I waited for Sheryl or Harvey to comment on my arrival.
Somebody needed to recognize that I went full-on lumberjack chic.
I had my flannel tucked into my jeans and rolled far enough up my arm to show off my biceps.
Even the suspenders highlighted the belly.
When nobody looked in my direction, I reached up, smacking the bell.
“I get dressed up for our meeting, and nobody compliments me.”
Even the bell only got a sideways glance from Gladys. She waved me over. Fine, I guess I would just have to take a thousand selfies and post thirst traps online all afternoon. Couldn’t let my outfit go to waste.
For the last week, I had sat on the news about the calendar.
Every time I bumped into Tyler, which seemed to be almost every day, I bit my tongue.
With a secret this good, I wanted to make sure I delivered it in just the right way.
It didn’t hurt that every day, Jason sent me a text message with the new number.
Last I checked, we had cleared 15,000 sales.
I still couldn’t believe how many people wanted to see a bunch of guys from the Maine wilderness show off their goods.
As I approached, the carnival committee continued their chattering, faces serious. Whatever had happened, it had gotten them worked up. I tried following the conversation, but they continued talking over one another. Instead of interrupting, I plopped down on the leather couch next to Laurel.
While staring at the ceiling, daydreaming about Tyler’s expression, possibly with my cock in hand. A-ha! I had a stroke of genius. I needed them to slow down so I could ask for their help.
Sheryl shook her head. “That won’t work.”
Walter jabbed Harvey. “Maybe we can get the VFW involved?”
Laurel dismissed the idea. “I love you guys, but there’s a chance somebody would break a hip.”
“Hey,” Walter and Harvey said in unison. Then Walter nodded. “She’s right.”
I finally dared to enter the conversation. “What’s going on?”
“Tragedy,” Gladys shouted. She threw herself back in her antique chair, arms crossed as she grimaced. “The worst thing that could happen did .”
With this group, that could be anything. “Did we order the wrong color tablecloths?”
“So much worse,” Sheryl said.
“Our baseball team doesn’t suck,” Laurel said.
I had attended a home game with Tyler. He wanted to cheer the team, and I wanted slushies and hotdogs. Laurel’s statement was about as polite as I could muster. They weren’t horrible, but they wouldn’t be going to the?—
“They made playoffs?”
Oh, no. No. No. No.
“They’re going to be traveling to Boston for playoffs,” Laurel said. “That means we just lost our volunteers.”
Only Gladys matched my level of panic. “They can’t just abandon us.”
I agreed. She leaned back, crossing her legs, a sour expression on her face. Everybody had grown quiet as reality sank in. Thanks to our better-than-horrible baseball team, we lacked the volunteers to put the carnival together.
“Don’t they have a legal obligation? Can we sue them?” No, Sheryl. However, I paused to consider it.
“Let them go,” Harvey said. “They earned it.”
“We’re the carnival committee,” Walter jumped in. “We can make anything happen.”
“What about the soccer team?” I asked. “Or basketball?”
They all chuckled.
“Wrestling?”
The laughter grew.
Even Laurel patted me on the leg. We had just gone from panic to cackling laughter. Shaking my head, I waved them off. “Explain it to me.”
Harvey jumped to his feet. “Jon Olsen, good sir.”
“Such a well-meaning chap,” Walter said. As they completed each other’s sentences, my drawing made more sense. I’m pretty convinced they were the definition of hetero-life-mates.
“We have enough kids in the high school for one sport.” I raised an eyebrow, not fully understanding. “Our summer baseball team is our basketball team. They’re also our soccer team.”
“Except for Jill,” Walter added.
“Oh yeah, Jill only plays basketball. Did you see she’s been working on her three-pointers? She’s going to?—”
“Back to the issue at hand,” Laurel interrupted. “Without the volunteers, we don’t really have enough people.”
“What about the shop owners?” I asked. “There must be plenty of people.”
Gladys shook her head. “They’re our vendors.”
“I’m still thinking we should pursue legal action.”
Everybody shot Sheryl a dirty look. She folded her arms across her chest and sat back, defeated.
It seemed the small-town environment that made Firefly special would also be the biggest issue.
It was hard to run a labor-intensive event when the laborers were the very people you wanted enjoying it.
We had reached a chicken and egg situation.
“What do we do?” Laurel asked. “Maybe we should cancel?”
Harvey and Walter paced back and forth, their steps in time. Gladys studied her clipboard as if the answer might magically appear. I have to admit, while I had been reluctant to join this ragtag committee, it had been fun watching them get excited about the carnival.
I had hidden the success of the calendar from everybody, biding my time until the carnival.
Underneath the fireworks, I’d casually lean over, kissing Tyler, reliving the moment that shook both our worlds.
Except, this time, I’d pull back and say the number as if it meant nothing.
When he raised an eyebrow, I’d say Firefly had done what it does best: protect its own.
We’d hug, then kiss, and then I’d make a comment about going back to his place. Then we’d finally have sex… in a bed.
“It’s not canceled.” I spoke without room for debate. “We’re not canceling the fireworks.”
Walter raised an eyebrow. “The carnival, you mean?”
“Yeah. The carnival.” Without a carnival, I wouldn’t have fireworks. Did they not understand that my grand gesture depended on booming lights in the sky? “I’ll find volunteers.”
“Who?” asked Sheryl.
“I know people.” Don’t question me, Sheryl. “Consider it a done deal.” Could Jason, Amanda, and Evie run everything? My list of friends in Firefly wasn’t lengthy. Maybe I could speak with somebody in Merryville? It didn’t matter, somehow I would find people. I had a week to make it happen.
Laurel leaned close, whispering in my ear. “Are you sure?”
I nodded. If I spoke, she’d detect the uncertainty in my voice. Right now, I needed them to believe I had resources. If we could come together and save a library, I’d harness Firefly’s magic and provide a team of carnies ready to make it the best carnival of all time.
“Okay, then.” Gladys cleared her throat. “With that settled, we need to discuss ticket distribution locations. We can’t have a repeat of when Connie got trapped in the porta potty.”
While they went through the logistics, I pulled out my phone and went through my contacts.
I had the numbers of co-workers at the publisher, ex-boyfriends I refused to delete, and…
wow, I didn’t have very many people in my phone book.
As of late, all my texts had been from the bears in Firefly, Amanda, and Evie.
Oh, and a single text message with Tessa holding a newspaper that ran a photo of Chris in the buff. I saved that photo for blackmail later.
Yes, I had some selfish reasons behind my want… need for the carnival. Of all the ways to reveal the success of the calendar, it made perfect sense. I had watched enough romcoms to know it needed to be over the top. Though… it wasn’t all about saving Tyler’s job.
I had squishier reasons.
As they feverishly debated a ticket person near the gazebo or by the water fountain, I had more reasons than myself.
Since I arrived, every person in this room had revealed some aspect of Mimi I hadn’t known.
Without knowing me, they supplied food, checking in to see if Evie and I needed help cleaning her house.
We might be flatlanders, but they had adopted us as one of their own.
By choice or by force, I had become part of the Firefly community.
I’d make this happen.
Jon: Red alert.
Amanda: You only get one.
Jason: Those are the rules.
Jon: I’m serious, I need another rally moment.
Amanda: Fine. I’ll save your butt again.
Jon: Spectrum Thursday?
Jason: It’s a date.
Amanda: Can Tessa come?
Jason: No.
Jon: No.
Amanda: We’re in a fight.