“Remember when we used to ride our bikes in the parade?” Liddy came up behind Maggie and put an arm around her shoulder. “We’d wrap them in miles of crepe paper, and if it rained, we’d be covered in dye.”
“And the dye would get on our clothes, and our mothers would be all over us for it,” Emma said. When neither Liddy nor Maggie commented, Emma frowned. “No? Just mine?”
“I’m afraid so.” Liddy patted her on the back.
“So what’s next on the agenda, Mom?” Grace asked.
“Footraces in the park.” Maggie gestured toward the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. “Just follow the crowd.”
The crowd spilled into the street and undulated like a fat snake as it headed for Harrison Park, where the festivities would continue. The park was on the grounds of the old Harrison mansion. Built in the late eighteen hundreds, it was unlike anything the residents had ever seen, in parts Gothic, Victorian, Tudor, and Georgian in architecture, depending on the side of the house viewed. Other than the staff in residence—on call when someone was there, otherwise acting as security and maintenance—no one in recent memory had been inside, though it had been the object of speculation for years.
Jasper Harrison had set aside five acres of his vast holdings to be used as a park for the residents of the town, with money from the estate earmarked to maintain and add to it as the town council requested. There was a set limit to what they could spend, but it had been more than adequate. Over the years, they’d added an elaborate wooden play structure for children, a ball field, and a gazebo, which had been intended to be used for summer concerts, but which served only as a backdrop for wedding and prom pictures. No one remembered a concert ever having been held there.
Every year on the Fourth of July, the park overflowed with locals and their visiting friends and relatives. The American flag was raised as the crowd pledged their allegiance. Then the high school band played “The Star-Spangled Banner,” which everyone was expected to sing. The president of the local Boys & Girls Club then announced the order in which the footraces would be held, from the youngest to the oldest, and pointed out the area where the runners were to gather. The script hadn’t changed since Maggie was a girl.
Jamey declined to participate, despite his father’s reminder he was one of the fastest kids in his grade, but Lulu ran with her age group, easily outdistancing the next closest runner. She proudly returned to the group, holding up the blue ribbon and small trophy to her father and her brother, who’d been mostly silent since his arrival. Alexis, who had possibly the longest legs Maggie had ever seen on a young girl, like Lulu, outran everyone else in her field.
“Dad!” she’d cried when she spotted Brett on the sidelines. “Check it out!”
Maggie watched Brett hug his daughter and admire her small trophy engraved with the date. He put an arm around her and crossed the field to join Maggie and the others.
“Some runners in this family,” he grinned as he high-fived Lulu, and she beamed under his praise.
Maggie noticed Jamey kick the ground with the toe of his sneaker, a frown on his face. He was clearly distancing himself, and she wished she knew how to pull him in, but she’d only had daughters, who’d always been pretty vocal in how they felt. She didn’t know Jamey at all and wondered if he’d ever permit her to. She watched Joe’s face as he leaned over and spoke to his son. He gave the boy’s shoulder a squeeze before turning his face back to the crowd as the last race lined up.
After the field activities, they walked farther into the park to witness the unveiling of the carousel. Maggie remembered it well, her memories of having ridden on the hand-painted mounts throughout her childhood and her teen years still vivid.
“Hey, remember when . . .” Brett slipped up behind her and whispered.
“I was just thinking about that.” She smiled at the memory. Once they’d ridden side by side. Every time the ride’s circular motion had hid them from view, he’d leaned over and kissed her. “We were sixteen.”
“Maybe we can hitch a ride on one of those ponies later,” he said, his eyebrows wiggling up and down suggestively.
“The ride will be back in its barn by the time you’re off duty tonight, Chief. But I cherish the memory.”
“Maybe we can catch a few moments alone.” His eyes met hers, and she detected a touch of veiled amusement.
“Doubtful. I suspect we’ll still have a full house by then.”
“Looks like things are going pretty well.” He tilted his head in the direction of Joe, Grace, and Natalie, who were engaged in conversation.
“Better than I’d hoped. It seems Joe and Grace share a love of detective novels’ first editions. There just might be a bit of sibling rivalry brewing, though. They apparently covet the same authors. He has a signed first edition of The Maltese Falcon she’d kill for. She has a copy of Mickey Spillane’s I, the Jury I suspect he may be willing to trade for his firstborn.”
“It’s a good start.”
“It is. Alexis has been great entertaining Daisy and Lulu. The only one I’m concerned about is Jamey. He’s not given an inch since he got here. Doesn’t want to talk to anyone, didn’t want to run in the race, doesn’t show any interest in anything or anyone.”
Brett watched the boy
