6. Chapter 6
Chapter six
Nick
My phone alarm went off at eight fifty.
I had set it because I had a nine o'clock meeting with Ms. Wilson and the mayor. I was still curious why I’d agreed to it without knowing what she was talking about, which was not something I typically did.
I had been mildly annoyed at myself about it since yesterday afternoon.
But only because I realized the only reason I gave in was because she said please.
Something about the way she said it made me unable to resist her.
And now that annoyed me.
Now I’m expected to waste half my day on who knows what or for what purpose. All because she said please.
I stood and rolled my chair under my desk. Heading to the kitchen, I heard voices before I walked in. Talking and laughing, the specific frequency of a room full of people who were relaxed and enjoying themselves.
This was not the typical noise level of my kitchen at 8:55 on a Wednesday morning.
I stopped in the doorway.
My full-time crew was seated around the table. Thompson had his arms crossed and was grinning. Scott was leaning forward with his elbows on the table. Jo was in her chair sideways with one leg over the armrest, the way she always sat when she was comfortable.
Cap was pressed against the leg of the woman sitting at the end of the table, with her hand resting on Cap’s enormous head like she'd been doing it for years.
All of them had coffee and pastries.
Every one of them stopped talking when I walked in.
Ah huh.
Brandy Wilson was in my kitchen with her laptop open and the energy of someone who was probably already on her third energy drink.
Great, she's one of those over-the-top cheery morning people.
“Don't be quiet on my account.” I looked at Cap. “I wondered where you went.”
“Good morning, Chief Carson.” Brandy smiled a wide smile.
“Ms. Wilson.”
“Brandy.”
The entire crew said it in unison.
Actually in unison, like they'd been rehearsing for hours.
I looked at the group. “What?”
“She said to call her Brandy,” Scott explained, pointing at Brandy.
Everyone enthusiastically nodded.
I looked at Brandy, and she looked back at me pleasantly as if to say, sorry, but I’ve won them over.
“I stand corrected. Good morning, Brandy.”
I walked away to fill my coffee cup and noticed the box on the counter.
“Who brought these?”
“I did,” Brandy said. “Picked them up this morning. Please help yourself.”
“Thanks.”
I took a bear claw and sat down.
The room resumed its previous frequency.
I didn’t engage in the conversation, instead drinking my coffee while eyeing the screen at the end of the room. It was showing a title slide that had a watermelon graphic.
What are we discussing, how to grow watermelons? We’re not a farmers market.
Mayor Rich Stevens sauntered in at five after nine, which was actually an improvement over his usual relationship with punctuality.
He came in with the energy of a man running for election.
Shaking all our hands, he spotted the pastries.
When Brandy offered them to him, he said, “Oh no, not for me,” and then said, “Well, maybe just half,” and took a whole one.
“Alright, alright.” He settled into a chair and glanced around the room with the look of satisfaction. “Brandy, the floor is yours. Let's hear what you’ve called us here for.”
Brandy stood at the end of the table and clicked her first slide.
A Halloween face appeared on a watermelon as if someone had carved it instead of a pumpkin.
That’s odd.
“Thank you all for being here,” she said. “I promise this won't take long, and I think you're going to like it. I know I do.”
The second slide was titled What Is Summerween?
I read that, then read it again.
What the hell is Summerween?
“Summerween,” Brandy said, “is a growing national celebration of Halloween spirit in the month of June. Communities across the country have been celebrating this for years. It has an enormous social media presence, a dedicated following, and—”
She clicked to the next slide, which was a photo of a neighborhood decorated with skeletons, cobwebs, and more carved watermelons.
“—it brings people together,” she continued.
This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever seen.
Brandy clicked through slides, chatting away about the kids and how much adults enjoy Halloween.
She gave us photos, numbers, and loads of community examples.
Cars with their trunks decorated and open while children in costumes collected candy.
A Halloween-themed bounce house. A table of carved watermelons glowing pink from inside.
And I’m here for this, why?
During the budget part, she noted her total was approximate.
Of course it was.
A list of businesses who she hoped would express interest in participating.
Then she had a slide with a playlist while her computer played Monster Mash.
Nobody is going to go to this. It's a made-up holiday. People are going to think she’s lost her mind.
I looked at the slide currently on screen showing a man dressed as Dracula handing candy to a child from the trunk of a minivan decorated as a graveyard.
And why is she giving this presentation at the fire station?
She clicked to the next slide, and I had my answer.
Her proposed timeline.
Oh, hell no.
I heard the crew suck in their breath as they caught on too.
“So, it just happens that Summerween lands on the Friday of Safety Week.” She clicked to the next slide.
Imagine the possibilities, it said, over a photo of a fire truck so thoroughly decorated with cobwebs and spiders that I could only imagine how long it took them to clean it up. The crew appeared to be dressed as some sort of exterminators.
I sat very still.
Oh, hell to the NO!
“And that,” Brandy announced, “is what I'm proposing for the June event. A Summerween party on the last night of Safety Week, with a trunk-or-treat in the parking lot. Perhaps with a haunted fire station. Families, costumes, businesses participating, carved watermelons, the works. We’ll promote it all over town, including a new social media page I’m starting where everyone can get all the event information.
So, that’s my proposal, to end Safety Week with a Summerween celebration. ”
There was silence for exactly one beat.
Then everyone in the room besides myself came alive.
Not on your ever-loving—
“I love it!” Thompson erupted, flinging himself forward. “Karen's going to love it. The kids are going to lose their minds.”
“We've got to decorate a truck,” Scott declared, looking genuinely excited. He looked at Jo. “Can we decorate a truck? Huh? Huh?”
“The bounce house is a great idea,” Jo said to Brandy. “For the smaller kids especially.”
I can’t believe them.
WAIT! Jo had her over for dinner last night. I glanced from Jo to Brandy, then back. Did Jo know about this and not warn us?
“The watermelons,” Thompson said. “Well, that’s just genius.”
Rich Stevens, who had finished his donut, was looking at the frozen fire truck on the screen. He made a noise which I couldn’t determine was excitement or gas.
Come on, Mayor. Talk some reason into her.
“This,” he said, pointing, “is exactly what I'm talking about.” He pointed at Brandy. “Sparkle. That right there is sparkle. Kudos to you for coming up with it. Families are going to be all smiles.”
I put my coffee cup down.
“I think I'm outnumbered,” I said.
Rich Stevens turned to look at me. “What does that mean?”
I glared at him.
“It means,” I said, making sure to keep my voice level, “Safety Week is a serious topic.
We don't take safety lightly in this department. We never have.” I gestured at the screen.
“This Summerween thing isn't what we're trying to stress here. Correction. What I'm trying to stress. We already incorporate fun into the week. We don’t need a Summerweeny event.”
Scott blinked, then chuckled.
“Summer Weanie?”
“Summerween,” Brandy corrected quietly.
“Whatever it's called.” I looked at Stevens. “These kids come here to learn serious topics, not to trick-or-treat with some made-up holiday.”
“It's not made up,” Brandy huffed.
I looked from her to Rich.
“Safety Week has a purpose. It's not a party.”
“I’m not saying it is,” Brandy shot back. “But I’m asking you, why can’t it end with a party?”
“Because it never has,” I explained. “They earn their safety certificates, and that’s it. A party after would just show it was all a joke.”
Rich Stevens looked at me.
“Well, good Lord, man. Learn to have some fun. These are kids we’re talking about. They know the difference between safety and a party.” He gestured at the screen. “This idea is perfect. The whole town will get involved. We encourage the businesses and the homes to decorate.”
“So, Safety Week is going to become a joke,” I said.
“No, it's not a joke.” Brandy's voice was even, as if she'd prepared for this particular response.
“This event ends Safety Week. It doesn't replace it. Everything you do Monday through Friday stays exactly as it is. On Friday evening, we’ll celebrate what they learned and Summerween. I plan on promoting it with Safety Week.”
I looked at her.
“YOU will?”
The room got very quiet until Rich Stevens stood up.
“I think it's great. Good job, Brandy. Move forward with it.” He pointed at her. “See Connie about the charge accounts and your corporate card.”
Brandy blinked.
“Okay, just to clarify, you're saying we're going ahead with the event?”
“Absolutely. Why, I’ll even dress up.” He was already turning toward the door. “The voters are going to love it.”
And with that, Rich Stevens walked out of the kitchen with another pastry, leaving behind a very, very quiet room.
I stood, and nobody said anything as I too walked out.
Behind me, I heard the crew start talking. A low, reassuring murmur of people I could just guess what they were saying.
It was fine. He’ll come around. Give him time. He was always like this. Bull.
I walked down the hall, without my dog, who was still in the kitchen, into my office and sat down in my chair.
The Fire Chief’s chair.
Blowing out a couple of breaths, I reached over and pressed the intercom button.
“Ms. Wilson.” I paused. “Could I see you in my office, please?”
From down the hall, faintly but unmistakably, I heard:
“Ohhhhhhh, someone's in trouuuuble.”