McMurphy on Mackinac Island. I was going over the contract we have with your company. It clearly says here that in the unlikely event of an accident that Rivers Productions will replace all materials needed for the show to go on as planned. I really need to know if you have a backup plan and if so, how you intend to execute it. Please call me back at 906-555-2222.”
I hung up the phone and studied the contract that was spread out on the top of my office desk. The contract clearly stated that Rivers Productions was fully bonded and insured in case of accident or loss. We were only days away from the Fourth of July. What if he couldn’t get any fireworks in that little time?
I ran my hands over my face and tugged at my dark brown ponytail. I picked up the phone and called my mother in Detroit. The phone rang a few times and I started to drum my fingers on the desktop.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hi Allie. How are you? Are you able to get down for the Independence Day celebration?”
“No, Mom. I’ve got to make fudge and ensure the McMurphy is working well, remember? The summer season can get crazy around the festival weeks and the Star Spangled Fourth is one of those weeks.”
“Of course,” my mother said, her tone clearly disappointed. “That’s fine. I understand the business comes before your father and me . . .”
“I love you, Mom.” Sometimes those simple words would disarm her before she went too deeply down that path of why did you leave us—even though I’d been living in Chicago for the last five years. I think she somehow thought I’d eventually give up on my “crazy” idea of taking over the family business.
“I love you, too, dear. Your father says that he saw something on the news about an explosion on the island. Did you hear about that?”
“Yes.” I ran my hand over my face again. “Someone set fire to the warehouse that stored the fireworks. Rodney Rivers died in the explosion. Well, no. Actually, he may have been dead before the explosion. There is some speculation he was murdered. I can’t get into the details until we know more.
“Oh, no, not another murder,” My mother’s tone turned serious. “That’s one a month since you got there. I don’t like that kind of trend. Are you safe?”
I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “I’m safe, Mom. Really, it’s simply been a run of unusual things. But I’m in charge of the fireworks and now I have to get us an entirely new show. I have calls in to his business partner. It’s just that we don’t have a lot of time left and I know that the supply of professional, arsenal-style fireworks can’t be so big that we will have our choice of shows now.”
“Surely they have insurance to cover any incidents,” Mom said. “I’ll ask my cousin Helen. She’s the one who recommended them. Maybe she can point us in the right direction to get this taken care of.”
“Really?” I asked, hope rising in my chest.
“Sure. I’ll call her and let you know.”
“Great.” I slumped with relief. “Could you? Tell her to let them know there are multiple shows. If they go well, we can negotiate a long-term contract.”
“I’ll tell her,” Mom reassured me. ”I’ll let you know what she says.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“You’re welcome. Come visit us soon, okay? Before it’s fall?”
“I’ll do my best,” I said. “Bye.”
Maybe, just maybe we’d get lucky and my mom’s cousin Helen would come through for us. In the meantime, I would Google the world’s best pyrotechnic groups and see if I couldn’t find someone who was not only really good, but also wasn’t under contract to already do a show those nights.
I had a feeling I was going to have to get very, very lucky.
Banana Cream Pie Fudge
½ cup butter, melted plus 1 teaspoon to prep pan (coconut oil is a good nondairy substitute)
¼ cup milk (almond milk is a good nondairy substitute)
1 3.4 ounce package of banana cream instant pudding and
I hung up the phone and studied the contract that was spread out on the top of my office desk. The contract clearly stated that Rivers Productions was fully bonded and insured in case of accident or loss. We were only days away from the Fourth of July. What if he couldn’t get any fireworks in that little time?
I ran my hands over my face and tugged at my dark brown ponytail. I picked up the phone and called my mother in Detroit. The phone rang a few times and I started to drum my fingers on the desktop.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hi Allie. How are you? Are you able to get down for the Independence Day celebration?”
“No, Mom. I’ve got to make fudge and ensure the McMurphy is working well, remember? The summer season can get crazy around the festival weeks and the Star Spangled Fourth is one of those weeks.”
“Of course,” my mother said, her tone clearly disappointed. “That’s fine. I understand the business comes before your father and me . . .”
“I love you, Mom.” Sometimes those simple words would disarm her before she went too deeply down that path of why did you leave us—even though I’d been living in Chicago for the last five years. I think she somehow thought I’d eventually give up on my “crazy” idea of taking over the family business.
“I love you, too, dear. Your father says that he saw something on the news about an explosion on the island. Did you hear about that?”
“Yes.” I ran my hand over my face again. “Someone set fire to the warehouse that stored the fireworks. Rodney Rivers died in the explosion. Well, no. Actually, he may have been dead before the explosion. There is some speculation he was murdered. I can’t get into the details until we know more.
“Oh, no, not another murder,” My mother’s tone turned serious. “That’s one a month since you got there. I don’t like that kind of trend. Are you safe?”
I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “I’m safe, Mom. Really, it’s simply been a run of unusual things. But I’m in charge of the fireworks and now I have to get us an entirely new show. I have calls in to his business partner. It’s just that we don’t have a lot of time left and I know that the supply of professional, arsenal-style fireworks can’t be so big that we will have our choice of shows now.”
“Surely they have insurance to cover any incidents,” Mom said. “I’ll ask my cousin Helen. She’s the one who recommended them. Maybe she can point us in the right direction to get this taken care of.”
“Really?” I asked, hope rising in my chest.
“Sure. I’ll call her and let you know.”
“Great.” I slumped with relief. “Could you? Tell her to let them know there are multiple shows. If they go well, we can negotiate a long-term contract.”
“I’ll tell her,” Mom reassured me. ”I’ll let you know what she says.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“You’re welcome. Come visit us soon, okay? Before it’s fall?”
“I’ll do my best,” I said. “Bye.”
Maybe, just maybe we’d get lucky and my mom’s cousin Helen would come through for us. In the meantime, I would Google the world’s best pyrotechnic groups and see if I couldn’t find someone who was not only really good, but also wasn’t under contract to already do a show those nights.
I had a feeling I was going to have to get very, very lucky.
Banana Cream Pie Fudge
½ cup butter, melted plus 1 teaspoon to prep pan (coconut oil is a good nondairy substitute)
¼ cup milk (almond milk is a good nondairy substitute)
1 3.4 ounce package of banana cream instant pudding and
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