Well, she thought, it’s a little late to examine my motives or question my wisdom.
“Guys, it’s going to be hot as blazes later, so you’re going to want to bring water to the parade. I do have a cooler we can take for water bottles, but I think starting out, we should each take a bottle.” She held a cool bottle out to Lulu, who whispered, “Thank you.” Jamey shook his head to decline, but Daisy walked over and took the bottle from Maggie’s hands.
“Mama says we have to drink lots of water when it’s hot,” Daisy told Jamey matter-of-factly, all but forcing the bottle into his hands. After he took it silently, she reminded him, “Now you say thank you.”
Being schooled by a three-year-old apparently stung. Jamey’s mumbled “thank you” was the first words he’d spoken since he’d arrived.
Maggie zipped up the cooler, and Joe stepped in to take it.
“I’ll carry that. Anything else you need?” Joe asked.
“No. I think we’re good.” Maggie pointed to the front door. “Lead the way.”
As if trying to escape, Grace was first out the door, but Joe, with his long legs, easily caught up to her on the porch.
“So Grace, Nat tells me you collect first editions. So do I. Is there any particular genre or time period you favor?” Joe asked.
“Oh.” Grace sounded as if she’d been taken off guard. “Well, I love the old detective mysteries. Mickey Spillane. Raymond Chandler. Dashiell Hammett.”
“Hey, me too! My autographed copy of The Maltese Falcon is my most prized possession.”
“I’m so jealous! I have a first edition, but mine is not signed.”
“Did you know Spillane wrote comic books before he wrote novels?”
“No!” Grace smacked him softly on the arm.
Joe nodded. “Superman. Batman . . .”
“My dad collected those from the nineteen fifties.”
“So did mine . . .”
Listening to the exchange, Maggie sighed with relief. It appeared Grace had forgotten her preconceived dismissal of Joe, and all it had taken was the discovery of a shared love.
“And we’re two for two,” Maggie muttered as she locked the front door.
Behind her, Natalie laughed. “Relax, Mom. It’s going to be a great day. Fourth of July in Wyndham Beach, and we’re all together. What could be better?”
They fell in step with the slow-moving group headed for the center of town.
Grace led the way, walking with Joe on one side and Daisy skipping along on the other. Jamey and Lulu followed close behind their father, not speaking, both looking slightly lost and clearly feeling out of place. Maggie hoped that would change by the end of the day.
Liddy and Emma stood at the curb in front of the bookstore. By the time Maggie caught up with her group, the introductions had already been made. Two blocks away, the parade was beginning to take form, the long line of participants snaking out from the town’s largest parking lot. Brett’s police cruiser was at the front, followed by the Mid-Coast Regional High School Marching Band and a caravan of convertibles carrying the mayor and other municipal leaders.
When the lead car approached the bookstore, it stopped, and Alexis jumped out.
“Alexis!” Daisy jumped up and down with joy to see her new friend. Alexis ran to the side of the street and picked up the three-year-old, apparently as happy to see Daisy as Daisy was to see her.
Maggie gave Brett a thumbs-up before he drove away, leading the parade around the corner toward Prescott Street and the route that would wind the parade all through Wyndham Beach.
“Where’s Chris this weekend?” Liddy asked Emma.
“He’s doing some holiday charity concert out on the West Coast.” Emma’s exasperation was evident. “I just wish one time he’d say no to one of those big gigs that always seems to fall on a holiday weekend. Just once I’d like him to be home. Just. Once.”
“Don’t hold your breath, Em. What does Wyndham Beach have that can compete with the life that boy is living? He’s an international celebrity, and you need to remember that and what it means to be one of the most eligible bachelors in the world,” Liddy told her.
Maggie watched Natalie’s face as she listened to the exchange.
Oh, sweetie, we all love Chris, we really do. But please, don’t . . . In that moment, Maggie feared for her daughter’s heart even more than she had when Jonathan had walked out on her.
Almost defiantly, Natalie turned on her phone and started to record the parade as it passed by.
“Saving Daisy’s first Wyndham Beach glorious Fourth?” Maggie asked.
“No. It’s to send to Chris so he can see what he’s missing,” Natalie said.
“Oh.”
“He asked me to, Mom.” There was a touch of challenge in Natalie’s voice, as if she expected Maggie to question Chris’s interest in his hometown parade. “He really hasn’t forgotten where he came from.”
“I wouldn’t expect him to, sweetie. I’m sure he’ll get a kick out of watching it.”
Natalie resumed her video as the marchers filed by, and Maggie wondered just how interested Chris would be in seeing the local DAR float and the float honoring the one-hundredth anniversary of the founding of the Wyndham Beach Historical Society, or the floats for the local cultural alliance, followed by a flatbed truck carrying several of the teachers from the art center, displaying representative samples of their work. A contingent from the local Vietnam Vets marched by, and there were the usual fire trucks with volunteer firefighters riding on the backs, tossing candy to the children along the route. The widely acknowledged highlight
