Chapter 7 #3
“I thought someone named Harry Cassir was the director.” Rachel had done her homework, knowing she’d need to speak with him on this trip. Dani had it all scheduled for her.
“He quit two weeks ago.”
“What?”
“Yes. Got tired of people refusing to make changes.”
Rachel’s heart sank.
“It’s that intransigent?”
“Can be.” Deanna gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. Lucinda may be unreasonable, but Boyce has his father’s genes to balance her out.”
Dry humor or the cold, hard truth? Rachel wasn’t sure until Deanna started laughing.
“That was a joke, Rachel. You’re that nervous, huh? Sorry.”
“I’m not nervous. No,” she objected. “Just caffeine deprived.”
Burying her nose in her drink helped. Rich and creamy, the mix of two-percent milk and almond silkiness was more like a luxury than a practical source of energy, each sip warming her emotionally as much as physically.
If only she could relax and just enjoy that luxury.
But duty called.
“You’re going to be fine. I’m sure whatever Markstone's has planned to offer Lucinda and Boyce is going to be exciting.”
“I hope they say yes.”
Deanna gave her a noncommittal but encouraging look.
“Good luck!” Skylar handed Deanna her coffee and punched something into the iPad that functioned as a cash register.
“Got it?” Deanna asked.
“Yep. In the system.” She looked at Rachel. “You want an auto-account?”
“A what?”
“Store your card on file and it auto-pays whenever you order. Lots of people have it. Makes everything easier. And you get a free coffee for every twelve you buy!”
“Oh. No, thank you. I’m only here for two more nights.”
“Sure about that?” Deanna winked as she left.
Was that comment about whether Lucinda would sell quickly, or… about Kell?
Either way, Rachel had no plans to be in town long enough to buy twelve coffees, here or elsewhere. Two a day was enough, and if she were still here in five days, it meant something was very wrong with her deal.
“I can take your card and do it in thirty seconds,'' Skylar said, trying to be helpful. Rachel was saved by the door’s bell dinging as a big group of excited men came in. They were about five years younger than her, covered in ski parkas and hats.
“No, thanks. Bye!”
The heat from the large coffee warmed her hand, her coat’s pocket perfect for the other. Cursing herself for leaving her gloves in the car, she decided to kill time before the call, jingling her six quarters.
First stop: the parking meter.
As she approached, she saw a sign she hadn’t noticed when she took the spot: One-Hour Parking Only.
“Well, shoot,” she muttered, finding her keys and climbing in the car. A large blue Parking Lot sign caught her eye, with an arrow pointing to a municipal lot that was quite full, but as she squinted, she saw it said four-hour limit. Four hours was a lot better than one.
Hold on.
She hesitated. Was it worth all this hassle to avoid a parking ticket? How much could they cost here, in a place where meters took nickels and dimes? The fine would certainly be less than a day’s parking back in L.A., and she could expense it.
A pink police cruiser caught her eye, moving slowly down Main Street. Better not chance it. Might have another run-in with Officer Luview.
Moving the car was easy, until she pulled into the lot and tried to find a space. Huge piles of snow blocked quite a few of the spots. You would think there would be a protocol for snow removal–this was Maine, after all.
They should be used to it.
How hard was it to move big piles like the ones dominating the corners of the lot, taking up three spaces in a row?
Finally, she saw an opening between two cars and began to pull in.
Until she braked hard and shrieked.
“RANDY!” a man’s booming voice called from behind her.
A moose stood in the parking spot, staring her down.
Just like Godzilla.
When she hit the brakes, her coffee had tipped, spilling hot, creamy goodness down her right leg. The wet heat was a sickening reminder of how any day can be ruined by a single error.
And all to avoid paying a possible parking ticket.
“Don’t hit him!” Luke yelled, waving his hands behind her. “Back up and give him space.”
So much for avoiding Officer Luview.
She rolled down her window. “WHY is a MOOSE in the parking lot?”
“Because he's old and wanders.”
“That doesn’t explain the MOOSE IN A PARKING LOT part!”
“It’s Randy. He got hit by a truck on Route 33 a few years ago, and the vet fixed him up, but his mind’s never been the same.”
The moose looked at Rachel, eyes narrowing.
She knew those eyes.
One of them, anyhow.
“I’m calling Mel,” Luke announced.
“Who’s Mel?”
“Mel Chassi. Runs an animal sanctuary.”
“She’ll come and take him away?”
“No one’s making Randy do anything he doesn’t want to do, but she’s an animal whisperer. If anyone can get him out of here safely, it’s Mel.”
“Why not call animal control and tranquilize him?”
“You want a half-ton moose taking up a parking spot here in February?”
“You’re worried about the parking spot? When you have those huge piles of snow taking up three spots each?”
“Bulldozers on their way to clear that. Can’t use one on a moose.”
Thunk! Thunk!
Rachel and Luke both turned to look at the moose, whose hooves were now placed squarely on the hood of her car. His head was lowered, nose edging toward the middle of the windshield.
“THIS IS A RENTAL CAR! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH PAPERWORK THOSE DENTS WILL CREATE?” she screamed at the beast.
“Rachel, get out of the car,” Luke said in a low voice of warning.
The car began to rock.
Randy the Moose pitched forward, sending Rachel back with some force. Not enough to cause whiplash, but enough to shoot adrenaline through her blood.
And splash more coffee on her leg.
The rocking began in earnest, a remarkably familiar feeling.
“GODZILLA?” she screamed.
Luke gave her a sharp look.
“Randy. Not Godzilla. Godzilla isn’t real.”
“This is what was rocking my trailer this morning!”
“WHHHUUUUUUUUHH.”
As Randy made love to her rental car, Rachel froze; she knew how this would end. A few images flashed through her mind, each grosser than the next, and she realized she did not want a moose gumming up her rental car engine.
So to speak.
Desperate, she laid on the horn, a long, loud honk.
All that accomplished was making Randy pump harder.
“He thinks it’s a mating call!” a woman shouted from behind Luke. “Stop honking! Turn off the car!”
Rachel did as ordered, the woman’s voice extremely commanding.
Randy stopped abruptly, tilting his head as he looked at Rachel. As if nothing whatsoever had happened, he stepped down from the hood and turned away, walking sedately toward a thick patch of woods at the edge of the lot.
A car headed toward her turned on its signal, about to claim the spot.
“Oh, no, you don’t. I didn’t fight this hard just to lose it,” she muttered, quickly restarting her engine and pulling in. Once she turned the car off, she took a deep breath. Shaken but determined, her pants leg soaked with spilled coffee, Rachel got out, waving.
“LUKE!”
“Yeah?”
“Can you help me as a witness? My assistant is going to have to file a claim with the car rental place, and no one will believe me when I report the hood was damaged by an amorous moose.”
Luke gave the trunk a double tap and laughed, walking toward his car.
“Sure!” he called out. “Gotta go on another call, but no problem. You can reach me at the station.” He opened his pink car door and called out, “Thanks, Mel!” to the woman who’d hollered. Then he drove away, leaving Rachel alone.
Mel? Rachel turned to the stranger who’d helped with the moose.
“Thank you!” she said to her.
“I didn’t do anything special. Just don’t honk again. Randy’ll think you’re coming on to him.”
“What’s wrong with that moose?”
“He got hit by a truck a few years ago. Never been the same in the head since. Thinks it’s rutting season all the time.”
“Rutting season?”
“Mating time. Generally September for moose, but Randy’s, well... randy.”
“You’re serious?”
The woman shrugged. “Either that, or he’s just plain horny nonstop. We’re going with the biologic explanation. I’m Mel Chassi.”
“Hi. Rachel Hart.”
“Perfect last name for our town!”
A small smile was all she could muster.
“Good luck with Lucinda and Boyce!” Mel said.
“How did you know?”
“Word’s out.” She wiggled a smartphone. “Everyone knows, and the betting grid’s already starting.”
“Betting grid?”
Mel laughed. “Come to Greta’s after your presentation and see.”
“Greta’s?”
“Love You Bakery.” She looked at her phone. “It’s 10:57. Better hurry! Lucinda can't stand people who are late!”
“I’m sure if I explain why, she’ll…”
“You’re going to explain to a woman who was a Shaker until she fell in love with Donald Armistead that you’re late because a moose had sex with your car? Good luck. Here’s a tip: Never mention sex around her.”
“Never mention sex..?”
“Ever. “
“What’s a Shaker?” Rachel asked, earning a double take.
“Do your homework, honey. Google Sabbathday Lake. Good luck! Get going!”
Quickly, Rachel pumped her quarters into the meter and hurried off to Love You Chocolate, walking through the door promptly at 11:00, a bit winded but fine.
Hopefully, the coffee stain wouldn’t show too much on her gray pants.
The walk to Love You Chocolate was cold, the arctic air nearly freezing the wet cloth on her leg, but by the time she reached the store’s main door, she was determined not to let this minor fiasco ruin her pitch.
The store was packed. Packed.
And every person in there was smiling or moaning.