Chapter 6
K reston
During the lunch hour, Kreston leaned against the doorframe of the Crooked Spoon, suppressing a laugh. Seattle’s finest publicist served Mrs. Henderson’s burger and fries directly into Mr. Henderson’s lap. Jessie flitted by, whispering it was Sadie’s third strikeout while serving lunch, including the decaf debacle that nearly started a riot with the noontime coffee crowd.
“I’m so sorry!” Sadie’s voice sounded like she was barely holding it together. “Let me clean that up for you—”
“Table four’s order is up!” Jessie called from the kitchen over the gentle strains of “Silent Night” from the cassette tape playing on an antique boombox on a corner shelf.
Kreston’s mom had always kept the glove compartment of her Ford Mustang full of cassettes. He’d listened to Carole King’s “Tapestry” and Linda Ronstadt’s “Heart Like a Wheel” tapes until he knew every song by heart. Not his music choice, but he’d had no say on their long, lower-forty-eight road trips. His mom had passed away, so her cassette tapes provided some measure of comfort for him.
“Order up! It’s getting cold,” yelled Jessie.
“Coming!” Sadie spun around, nearly colliding with Lucky, who was showing his award-winning moose call to an unimpressed Ten Second Tess, whose attention focused on Sadie.
“Who are you? Are you from New York?” Tess demanded, adjusting her candy cane-striped scarf. “Our mayor is in love with you. He keeps staring at you.” She pointed at him, then rushed off.
Kreston couldn’t figure out how Ten Second Tess remembered he was the mayor, but she repeatedly asked Sadie who she was. At any rate, he ignored Tess’s ‘in love with you’ comment and strode over to an empty table of dishes.
As Sadie scurried around, Kreston noted how fine she looked in the borrowed server apron. She wore it like armor, a defense in the fortress she’d built around herself. Dark red tendrils had escaped her ponytail, framing a face that appeared both delicate and strong.
Not that he noticed or anything.
“Order up!” Jessie hollered, emerging from the kitchen with gingerbread pancakes topped with red and green sprinkles. She paused beside Kreston, who was juggling an armload of plates, bowls, and silverware.
“Maybe instead of mooning at the hired help, you could actually help serve the food.”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Kreston spun around toward the kitchen when chaos erupted.
“Jessie, I’ll serve those—” Sadie’s offer ended in a yelp as she collided with Kreston. Dishes and silverware clattered to the wooden floor, while pancakes became airborne, and maple syrup splattered everywhere.
Sadie windmilled her arms as she skidded through the syrup in another pair of her non-sensible ankle boots with heels. Kreston instinctively reached out and caught her before she hit the floor. For a moment, they froze, with her back against his chest and his arms around her waist.
“Ice isn’t the only slippery thing in Alaska.” He was very much aware of how light she felt.
Doesn’t this woman ever eat?
They both straightened, and Sadie pulled away. “Sorry, but I had everything under control.”
“Just like you had the decaf situation under control?” He attempted a joke, but she wasn’t smiling.
“How was I supposed to know Tucker would do that poetry-out-loud thing if he didn’t get his regular coffee?” She threw her arms up, seemingly exasperated.
“Tucker is used to his routine, so when things go out of whack, he recites poetry. It’s his coping mechanism.” Kreston explained it as if teaching a science lesson.
From his corner table, Tucker looked up from his sketchpad. “The heart yearns for what it knows, like cream seeking its coffee, like sugar seeking its dissolution in the dark depths of meaning.” He paused thoughtfully. “My ex-wife hated coffee. Should’ve seen that red flag.”
Sadie stood looking at Tucker, bewildered. She didn’t know what to say to that, so she turned to Kreston. “Don’t you have mayoral duties to attend to or post office stuff to do?”
“Actually, I came to invite you to the Polar Creek holiday festival.” Kreston motioned outside of the frosted windows, where vendors were setting up their canopy stalls, and business owners strung twinkling lights around their storefronts. The snow no longer blew sideways but fell straight down as if anvils weighted each snowflake .
“Every year we decorate the antler arch in the town square with red and green ribbons, and each window displays hand-carved, Alaskan ornaments. The town’s founders started this tradition back in the 1940s.” He glanced back at her. “You should join in the fun.”
Sadie narrowed those remarkable amber eyes. “What kind of fun?”
“The usual. Outhouse races, sled dog races, and moose calling contests,” replied Kreston. “And the ice fishing competition tomorrow where Tucker is judging, though he mostly recites poetry to the fish and grouses to them about his ex-wife.”
Jessie moved through, stacking dishes and silverware on her large, round tray. “Tucker is quite the poet, actually. Last year, he wrote a sonnet comparing a salmon’s love life to his marriage. Surprisingly moving.”
“But salmon love lives end in tragedy,” countered Sadie.
“Exactly,” said Kreston, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
“Wait, back up. You said outhouse races?” Sadie wondered if she’d heard correctly.
“Team event with four people on a team,” explained Kreston. “One is a helmeted rider sitting on a toilet seat with reading material and a roll of toilet paper. The other three push the toilet and rider on top of two sets of snow skis.”
“Seriously? You’ve got to be kidding. That’s ridiculous.”
Kreston grinned at her horrified expression. “Come on, when was the last time you did anything completely ridiculous?”
“When I agreed to get on that plane with Lucky.”
“See? You’re on a roll!” he said with enthusiasm. “Besides, I need a fourth person for my team with Lucky, Jessie, and myself.”
“Nah, I don’t think so,” Sadie pushed back.
“Free hot chocolate from Mrs. Larson’s stand. She adds candy cane pieces.” He tried luring her in.
“No.”
He dangled another lure. “Bragging rights?”
“Are you kidding me?” She guffawed. “I’d be a laughingstock back home.”
One last attempt. “Did I mention the toilet seat is heated?”
She broke out in a smile. “You’re making that one up.”
He waggled his brows. “Nuh-uh. Only one way to find out.”
A HALF-HOUR LATER, Sadie was perched on a toilet seat, wearing Kreston’s NASCAR helmet with the glittery red lightning bolts on either side.
“Thank God this toilet is unplumbed, but you lied about it being heated.” She leaned over, eyeballing the toilet base bolted to a wooden pallet, and mounted on slippery skis that rested on the snow.
Kreston instructed Sadie to hold the roll of toilet paper high, like an Olympic torch. The rest of his team, including himself, Lucky, and Jessie, gripped the tow ropes as if their lives depended on it. Other teams took their positions on the starting line, including the rival team led by Hardware Bob, who’d won three years running .
“Can’t believe I’m doing this. I’ve always wanted to sit on a throne,” Sadie wisecracked.
“Befitting a queen,” Kreston joked, organizing the team with their tow ropes.
Someone sang “Jingle Bells” with bathroom-themed lyrics and everyone hooted and hollered.
“Save your energy for waving the toilet paper,” advised Lucky with an earnest face. “It’s all about the presentation. Hardware Bob’s team may have the faster toilet, but they lack our verve and enthusiasm.”
Sadie’s voice rose an octave. “Verve? How do I not fall off this thing?” She adjusted the moose antler headband Ten Second Tess had run up and placed over her helmet.
Kreston instructed, “Hang on tight. We don’t want a repeat of what happened to Old Joe last year.”
Sadie hesitated. “What happened to Old Joe?”
“Nobody knows, exactly,” Kreston said with a somber expression. “But afterward, we called him One-Cheek Joe.”
“Hey, Mayor Collins!” Hardware Bob called out. “Nice of you to enlist a neophyte to help you lose!”
“Ever hear of a dragon rider? This bonny badass is a toilet rider!” Lucky shot back, narrowing his eyes. “Be afraid, Bob. Be very afraid.”
Ten Second Tess wandered over to Sadie, wearing mittens with bells. “Are you the mayor’s girlfriend? Sorry you have to go to the bathroom in front of all these people. Nice antlers!”
Kreston opened his mouth to respond when the starting gun fired, and their makeshift chariot shot forward. Sadie’s shriek trailed after them as they careened down Main Street, their crude little outhouse toilet sliding sideways on the packed snow.
“Lean into the turns!” panted Kreston, doing his best to tug them along.
“I’m on a flipping toilet!” Sadie shouted back. “There is no leaning!”
“Bob’s gaining!” warned Lucky in a desperate battle cry.
“Wave the toilet paper like a cheerleader!” ordered Jessie, tugging her line for all she was worth.
“This isn’t what I meant when I said I wanted a throne!” Sadie shouted as they slid from side to side. “I’d like to see Miss Manners handle this with grace.” How their team managed to keep this ungodly contraption moving forward was a flipping miracle.
Kreston, Lucky, and Jessie tugged their ropes forward to control the side-to-side sliding. Before the race, they’d agreed to apply physics to their approach. Kreston glimpsed Sadie conducting the crowd with her toilet paper roll and tried not to laugh, since he was the muscle for this operation. The cheers grew louder, snowflakes swirling around them like confetti.
“Is that all you got, Seattle?” taunted Hardware Bob as his team pulled alongside.
“Who taught you to drive a toilet, a plumber’s apprentice?” quipped Sadie.
Kreston smiled as he ran with the tow rope, liking how Sadie was getting into the spirit of this race. He’d sensed her competitive drive would fit nicely for this endeavor. He prided himself on his excellent judge of character.
Tucker yelled from the finish line, “The porcelain chariots speed across to destiny’s drain! ”
Oddly, they won. Sadie’s toilet paper unrolled as she lifted it like a banner, brandishing it like one would a flag upon reaching the summit of Mount Everest.
Kreston stood back, breathing hard from the exertion. He’d finally beaten Hardware Bob, whose team had skidded into a snowbank, toilet seat spinning like a frisbee into the crowd. No one was hurt, but his team laughed so hard they couldn’t get to their feet. Instead, they rolled around, cackling like hyenas.
“This was...” Sadie searched for words, shaking her head with flushed cheeks.
“Completely ridiculous?” supplied Kreston.
“Absolutely insane!” But she was grinning.
Kreston fished a long necklace from his pocket with a miniature toilet dangling from it, complete with a blue ribbon. He caught a whiff of Sadie’s expensive perfume as he leaned in to slip it over her helmet. He inhaled again, loving the scent.
“As town mayor, I hereby deem you the winner! The rider gets the official prize and wears it for the rest of the festival. It’s the ultimate honor to win the Outhouse Race.” He was dead serious when he said it, but she laughed.
“What’s next?” she asked, eyes sparkling. There was a slight paradigm shift in Sadie’s attitude.
And he liked it.