Chapter 6
Harlow stifled a yawn, shuffling into the kitchen the next morning after a restless night.
David sat at the counter, watching his daughter pour a cup of coffee. “Another rough night?”
“One of the worst.” She finished filling her cup and plopped down next to him.
“I see you have your Mackie’s Christmas party dishes ready to go.”
“Ready and waiting,” Harlow said. “This will be my first official hosting event.”
“Any word on the Lighthouse Lane offer?”
“Not yet. According to Allie, she found out the owners are out of the country, so it might be a day or two before she hears back.” Harlow reminded him that hers was only a backup offer, and she’d pretty much resigned herself to the fact the property was gone.
“Try not to let it get you down.”
“I’m not.” Harlow patted Mort’s head. “Today’s your big day, buddy. I can’t wait to see what Aunt Birdie and Marty have come up with for the pet parade.”
“Me either. Which reminds me.” David grabbed a pair of shears from the counter and called Mort.
The pup trotted across the room.
“Have a seat.”
Mort slid onto the floor and rolled over.
“Not lay down.” David gently coaxed the pup to a sitting position.
“Bribery might work.” Harlow tipped a few treats into the palm of her hand and held them out. “Sit pretty for Dad.”
Mort promptly sat at attention.
“Good boy.”
While Mort munched, David carefully snipped the tufts of hair covering his eyes. Within seconds, his chocolate-brown eyes gazed back at them.
“You’re going to be the handsomest pup in the parade,” Harlow said. “And now that Dad gave you a trim, you won’t miss any of the action.”
Fast footsteps echoed on the back porch. A breathless Aunt Birdie appeared carrying matching canvas bags, one hanging on each arm. “Oh good. You finally gave Mort a trim.”
“He camped out in my room last night. We’ve been up for a while now,” Harlow said. “I think Mort knows today is his special day.”
“To blow the pet parade competition out of the water,” her aunt boasted. “I spoke to Marty. He and Chance are on their way. We’ll have just enough time to dress the fellas before we hit the road. We don’t want to be late.”
Harlow downed the rest of her coffee and set the cup in the sink. “What can Dad and I do to help?”
“Nothing.” Birdie set the bags on the floor. She reached inside, pulled out a pair of pointy ears and wiggled them into place. “Perfect.”
Up next was a mop of thick yarn. Tucking the edges under Mort’s ears, she fluffed the yarn, fashioning a horse’s mane. “You know what’s next.”
Mort grunted loudly and backed away.
“Get over here, mister,” she commanded.
The pup reluctantly resumed his position, patiently waiting for Birdie to strap a saddle around his middle.
“How cute is this?” Harlow giggled.
“We’re almost done.” Aunt Birdie snapped shiny black hooves onto each of Mort’s paws. She leaned back to inspect the end result. “Be a good boy and walk in a circle.”
Mort pretended not to hear and sank down onto all fours. His eyes shifted from David to Harlow.
“He seems a little unsure about the shoes.”
Birdie reached into her pocket and pulled out a box of Mort’s favorite fish snacks.
He promptly scrambled to his feet and trotted over to claim his treat.
“The hooves appear to fit him well,” David said. “Mort’s a horse.”
“And Chance will be dressed as Mort.”
“I love it.” Harlow plucked her phone from her pocket. “I want to snap a picture of you two.”
“I have one more thing to add.” Aunt Birdie reached for the bag. She removed a twined piece of brown thread and attached it to Mort’s tail.
Casting an annoyed look behind him, he swished the tail back and forth.
“Smile pretty,” Harlow coaxed.
After taking several pictures, the family gathered up the rest of the gear and made a beeline for the road, and not a moment too soon.
Clippety-clop. Marty and Chance rounded the bend and stopped out front. “Lookin’ good, Mort. It’s time to get Chance ready to roll.”
Dressing Mort was a piece of cake compared to Chance, who wasn’t the least bit thrilled about his costume. He whinnied a few times until finally settling down.
Floppy puppy ears, a shaggy coating of fake fur, a strip of leather, a collar with sparkly “Mort” emblazoned on the front and finally a dog bone, strapped around Chance’s neck completed his ensemble.
Another round of picture taking ensued, and then it was time to head out.
“Chance and I came through town. Other pet paraders are already lining up,” Marty said.
“How were they dressed? What did their costumes look like?” Aunt Birdie peppered Marty with questions about the competition all the way there. Circling around, they took a side street to the starting point of the parade.
Sure enough, a string of horses and drays, wagons used to transport everything from mail to building materials, stood lined up.
Marty steered Chance to the back of the line. “I saw some pretty cool costumes. Chance, Mort and I have our work cut out for us.”
“It’ll be fun to see what everyone has come up with.”
“Do you have your bag of bribery…err…candy for the kids ready?” David joked.
“Right here in my backpack.” Aunt Birdie patted her bulging backpack. “I’ve been practicing my aim all week.”
Sticking to her original plan, Harlow climbed down from the wagon. “Good luck. I can’t wait to cheer you on.” She gave all three of them a high five while offering words of encouragement to Chance and Mort before leaving.
Cutting through a back alley, she arrived on the opposite side of the street from Noelle’s flower shop.
“Over here!” Noelle whistled loudly to get Harlow’s attention.
She waved to her friend while hurrying to the other side. “Thanks for saving me a spot.”
“Anytime.” Noelle linked arms with her. “We have primo spots for parade-watching.”
“I didn’t know there were this many people still on the island.”
The main drag was jam-packed, filled with islanders eager to brave the cold to support Huron Helpers, and it warmed Harlow’s heart to see the crowds.
Although having grown up on the island, she never realized how close-knit the islanders were, how they took care of each other, making extra efforts to help the senior residents. It was like no other place Harlow had lived, and it made her proud to be a part of the community.
Abby, Meg, Peyton, and Lottie arrived carrying to-go containers of hot cocoa.
“We brought drinks.” Peyton handed a cup to Harlow.
“Thank you.” She sipped the creamy chocolate goodness, the heat spreading from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. “I can’t believe what a great view we have.”
“Every year.” Meg gave her a thumbs up. “Leif roped off our viewing area first thing this morning and has been guarding it with his life.”
Leif, Noelle’s husband, hung back near the edge of the building.
Harlow gave him a friendly wave. “Thanks for the primo spot.”
“You’re welcome. Noelle has standing marching orders every year.”
The friends chattered about the parade, about the winter storm that barreled through on Christmas Eve, halting “Santa’s deliveries.”
Because of the storm, the mayor issued an official proclamation delaying Christmas for a few days. Hence, New Year’s Eve would do double duty as the islanders’ belated Christmas Eve, which had already passed.
As soon as the parade and festivities wrapped up, the Mackinac Islanders would celebrate the holiday. Although inconvenient, it was part of the charm of living on an island that was at the mercy of the weather, especially during the winter months.
To Harlow, the most important thing was that her friends and family were safe.
“Are we still on for the Mackies’ cookie exchange and party later today?” Abby asked.
“On and I can hardly wait to host my first official party,” Harlow said. Thankfully, her special purchases had finally arrived, including the gifts she had chosen for each of her family members and Eryn.
Meg nudged her arm. “Do you need us to bring anything?”
“Only you, your scrumptious cookies and gifts for giving,” Harlow said. “I prepped the food last night before I went to bed.”
“We could’ve had a potluck.” Peyton said.
“This is my treat, part of my Christmas gift to you. I wanted to give you all a break, including Island Time Catering.” Harlow playfully wagged her finger at Abby, the owner of a new catering company.
“I have to admit I’ve been super busy, but in a good way. Having a day off will be wonderful.”
“The parade is starting.” Lottie excitedly motioned to the far end of the block, near the corner of Fort Street and in front of Marquette Park.
A rousing rendition of “Santa Claus on Main Street,” the official island holiday tune, created by a local musician and recorded in a mainland recording studio, played loudly over the speakers.
Santa, donning his traditional red suit, black boots and red velvet hat with a fluffy white ball on the end, strolled down the center of the street, waving to the crowd.
A team of elves wearing vibrant shades of North Pole evergreen spun in circles.
Pointed black elf shoes tapped in perfect rhythm while they tossed candy to the children.
Harlow clapped her hands, singing along to the catchy tune she’d learned in grade school. And it was like being transported back to her childhood, when the island hosted a downtown festival, not unlike today’s but without the parade.
Following behind Santa were the drays, the horses and wagons all decked out in their holiday finery, cleverly constructed costumes and themed floats.
Frosty and miniature snowmen waved to the crowd, tossing out snowman-shaped chocolate bars. Even the horses pulling the wagon were dressed in top hats and bowties.
Christmas trees, snowy scenes, story time by a “faux fire”—one right after another, the parade continued, each float creative and a serious contender to snag the top prize.
Finally, Harlow glimpsed Chance and Marty steering the wagon with Mort and Aunt Birdie seated on the front bench seat.
“What in the world?” Lottie burst out laughing.
Harlow craned her neck. “What is it?”
“Your father…has finally been bitten by the Christmas spirit.”
She ducked down, peeking in between a couple. Sure enough, David Wynn stood front and center wearing a costume only Aunt Birdie could have created.