17. Maggie #2
“I’m Maggie Holland,” I said, shaking her hand. She wore a ring on every finger and bracelets that clinked together. “What branch were you in?”
“Air Force. Served during Nam.” She looked back at Frank. “That’s how I met this one.”
“What’s that, dear?” Frank asked as Luke was pulled away by a man in a navy polo.
“I was just telling my new friend Maggie here how we met.” She spoke animatedly with her hands, her jewelry clinking with her dramatic movement.
Refocusing on me, she continued. “It’s a totally romantic story.
I was the nurse who had to give him a shot in the ass.
Soon as I bent him over and pulled down his drawers, he asked me out to dinner.
” Dylann looked back at Frank, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “So I stuck him extra hard.”
“And yet, you still went out with me.” Frank winked, wrapping an arm around his wife’s lower back.
“I figured if you were dumb enough to ask out the woman holding the needle, you might be interesting.”
Frank looked at me. “Best decision I ever made.”
There was such love and affection in their shared gaze. The same I’d always seen between my grandparents. The kind of love I thought I found for myself. Maybe this wouldn’t be my fate, but I could appreciate how lucky I was to witness the rare treasure.
A man stepped behind a podium up front, asking everyone to find their seats.
“I better get Walter his beer before he thinks I abandoned him,” I said, grabbing a koozie from the bar to wrap around the chilled can. “It was great meeting you—”
“I’m right behind you,” Dylann said. “Walter’s my dad.”
After Frank headed to the table at the front of the room with the other officers, Dylann filed into the second row, taking the seat behind Walter.
I slipped into the reserved seat and handed Walter his beverage.
I’d lost track of Luke, but a quick glance over my shoulder revealed him standing in the back of the room, arms folded, next to a man about his age I didn’t recognize.
“Looks like you’re getting along better with Luke,” Walter said. “I knew you two would hit it off eventually.”
“What? Oh, no. It’s not like that—”
The pounding of a gavel called the meeting to order and cut short our conversation. Walter winked before cracking open his can of beer. With his strained hearing, it’d take more than a whisper to clear up this misunderstanding, and I didn’t dare try with the room so eerily quiet.
The meeting started as so many I attended had—the Sergeant-at-Arms secured the doors, the colors were posted, and the Chaplain offered a prayer.
We recited the Pledge of Allegiance, and when we started the Preamble to the Constitution, tears pricked the corners of my eyes.
It brought me back to being a little girl, holding Grandpa’s hand.
He’d been so proud the first time I recited it from memory.
I knew then, at just ten years old, that I’d enlist in the Army.
After roll call, minutes from the previous meeting, and a few other administrative items, the president opened the floor for parade float discussions, and everything went a little sideways.
I twisted over the back of my chair and asked Dylann, “What is Golden Days?”
“Town’s annual fall festival,” Dylann whisper-shouted as the volume in the room increased.
More than a couple of the men were getting worked up about the float, including Frank.
Dylann stopped whispering. “It’s the biggest celebration of the year.
Goes on for three full days, starting next Friday.
The Auxiliary puts on a pancake breakfast Saturday morning, and then there’s this whole float situation for the Sunday parade.
You’d think it’d be all settled by now, with the parade next week.
But these stubborn men argue right up until the last second.
Hey, you going to be in town for Golden Days, then? ”
“I will, yes.”
Dylann leaned closer, grabbing the back of my folding chair, and whispered, “Whatever you do, don’t volunteer to help on the float.”
Before I could ask why, two men started shouting at each other about who should drive the tractor. The Legion president hit his gavel repeatedly to call order. The poor man looked exhausted, as if he knew this would happen.
“I motion that the Mason brothers be in charge of the float this year,” Frank piped up once order was restored. “We need fresh blood, and the chief has the time. Told me so just yesterday.”
I wondered what that meant, that Luke had time. The man seemed married to his job.
I stole a glance at Luke and had to bite back a grin at the horrified expression that flashed across his face. He hid it quickly enough, but I already looked forward to giving him a hard time about this later.
So much for avoiding him.
I’d spent enough time tiptoeing around landmines these past few months. It might be fun to be a little reckless. Within reason. Or not. I’d decide later.
“All in favor of Luke Mason and Connor Mason being in charge of our parade float this year say aye.”
The room unanimously erupted in ayes.
“Well, I’ll be,” Dylann said. “They actually agree on something for once.”
“Those opposed say no,” the president said.
Luke pinched his lips, and I silently chuckled at his misery. There wasn’t a single no in the whole room.
“The ayes have it. The motion carries.”
After concluding there was no further business to come before the Post, the president made a motion to adjourn.
“Well, what did you think?” Walter asked, still sipping on his beer as veterans stood from their chairs.
“I’m already sad I won’t be here for the next meeting.”
“You could stay longer?” Walter suggested, pushing to his feet. I offered a discreet hand to help steady him and he winked his thanks.
“My sister’s having a baby, and I promised I’d be there.” I’d pushed things with booking a full month in town. As it was, I’d arrived in Lansing three days before she was due. But Violet reassured me that with both of her boys being a week late, my timeline would get me there ahead of schedule.
The older man who complained about his knee earlier approached. “Say, Maggie, was it?”
“Yes?”
“Does your offer still stand?”
To say I was surprised was an understatement. I loved helping veterans, especially the older generations. But from what little experience I had with them, I learned they were the most stubborn of all.
“It does.”
“I can meet you here, oh nine hundred hours tomorrow?”
I smiled, fighting to keep it from growing too large so it didn’t cause the man to retract his willingness to let me help him. “Let me give you my number—”
He waved his hand in dismissal. “If you say you’re going to be here, I don’t need your number.”
“Consider it a date . . .”
“Phil. Phil Danby.” He nodded his appreciation and disappeared into the sea of veterans making their way to the dessert table.
Walter was staring, and when I met his eyes, there was a twinkle there. As though he knew something I didn’t.