Small-Town Fireman

Blank faces met Boston’s challenge. If you needed new ideas, Dylan thought a bit sourly, why’d you ask the same old people who run everything else in town? The same old people except for Karla and me, that is. And why us? Dylan realized he wasn’t being fair in his criticism, but his good mood had left the room a while ago.

“That’s why I brought Karla,” Karl pronounced, as if reading his thoughts. “She’s a fountain of good ideas.” He looked right at Dylan when he said it. Karla went a bit pale and looked down at her hands.

Dylan had to admit, Karl wasn’t wrong there. “I have had a lot of success with the Coffee Catch she dreamed up,” he offered, if only to take the blanched expression from her features. “But, Karl, you’re bound to be fully on your feet long before July. Don’t you think we ought to let Karla get back to her business in Chicago?”

“It’s no good to rush these things,” Violet cut in, her voice pleasant but with a decided edge. “Let’s not go giving Karl any deadlines he can’t meet. I like to think Karla can help bring a visitor’s perspective. Besides, Karl can always help sitting down.”

Karl hurrumphed at Violet’s coddling. “Don’t you worry about me, Vi.”

“So, July is when you are planning on the event?” Karla piped up, obviously feeling the squeeze of being seated between Violet and her grandfather.

“The official anniversary date is July 15, but that’s a Sunday,” Chief Bradens answered. “Pastor Allen has already agreed that we’ll honor the firefighters in church that day, but we were hoping to have some kind of special event on the Saturday before.”

Karla looked as if that solved everything. “That’s Bastille Day.”

Befuddled expressions met her pronouncement. “What’s that got to do with the firehouse?”

“Well, nothing directly,” she replied, “but it does hand you an easy way to have a unique kind of celebration.”

Dylan had spent enough summers in Chicago to see where she was headed with this. “The Venetian Night boat parade.” It wasn’t a bad idea at all.

“What?” Violet’s smile was curious but a mile wide.

“Every July Chicago celebrates the weekend around Bastille Day with a boat parade,” Karla answered to the entire room. “People decorate their boats with lights and streamers and all kinds of things, and then they have a sort of parade out on the water at night. It’s beautiful.”

“We’ve never done anything like that before here,” Principal Thomas said. “It’d be an easy way to get all kinds of people from the community involved. Even the students.”

“It’s barely a month away—can we get it done in time?” Chief Bradens wondered aloud.

“I don’t see why not. We could let each boat pick a decade from the one hundred and fifty years the firehouse has been in existence,” Mayor Boston suggested as he looked up from taking furious notes.

“Or just let them use the color red. Or firemen in general. There are loads of ways to do this.” Karla’s entire expression had changed from suspicious boredom to genuine excitement. Until, that is, the moment when Mayor Boston turned to her with an authoritative gleam in his eye.

Oh, no. He knew that gleam. Chief Bradens had that gleam, too, and it only meant one thing. Poor Karla—she didn’t know what she’d just done, did she? Her next month was a goner—if she was even planning to stay that long.

“Miss Kennedy, I think you’ve hit on a grand idea,” the mayor said. “I think Gordon Falls will be in your debt after you’ve chaired such a marvelous celebration. And to think our young people will be the ones to spearhead this effort. It’s a most exciting thing.”

Dylan watched in sympathy as the shock registered on Karla’s face. “But wait...I...”

“Of course she’ll chair the thing,” Karl piped up before Karla could even finish her objection. “But hang on—we can’t expect her to do all this by herself.”

“No one’s asking her to,” Violet replied. Dylan’s gut dropped to the floor when Violet turned her sweetest gaze to him and said, “Ted said youngpeople.”

Mayor Boston turned his head slowly to look straight at Dylan. “I most certainly did.”

“You don’t...” Dylan sputtered, feeling inevitability rise up and swallow him like a high tide. “I mean...” He felt the next four weeks slip through his fingers as though Violet had personally yanked them from his grasp.

“I’ll gladly free up Dylan’s time so he can chair the event. It’s a great idea.” The chief had the good sense to look pleased that he’d just dodged the chairmanship himself.

Before another ten minutes went by, subcommittees for decorations, food and publicity had been formed, and Dylan found himself approving a weekly Thursday meeting for the next month. His peaceful, autonomous life had just evaporated right before his very eyes. He was supposed to be building a business, not running a parade. Surely he and Karla could find some way to get themselves out of this before it went any further. Because even if it was June, this was Gordon Falls—and this town was very good at letting things snowball out of control.