wall. Behind a glass-fronted display case, a tiny woman with a pig apron greeted them. She was probably too obsessed with pigs to have a problem with a chick killer.
Blair smiled at her.
“Hey, girls! Need a dozen today?” The woman whipped out a to-go box.
“Hey, Debbie,” the women chorused.
Shelia waved a hand. “We’re going to eat here, Deb. Put that box away.”
Debbie chuckled and walked around the counter, eyeglasses on a rhinestone chain swinging across her chest with her quick steps. “You must be Blair,” she said, sticking out a hand.
“Pleasure to meet you, Debbie. It smells amazing in here. Are you going to make me fat?” Blair asked with a grin, shaking her hand.
“That’s completely up to you,” Debbie answered. She scratched under her hairnet and pursed her lips. “But I will say this—city hall is my biggest customer.”
“I take offense at that,” called an elderly man from a table near the window. The senior citizens sitting with him nodded.
“Sorry,” Debbie said. “Sunnyside Retirement Center and city hall are my biggest customers.”
“That’s more like it,” the man said, raising a mug of coffee in salute.
Debbie pushed Blair toward an empty table. “Sit, sit. What kind would you like?”
Blair glanced at the glass case, her mouth suddenly watering. “How about a chocolate-frosted one?”
“You got it.”
Debbie darted away and Blair smiled at the accounting girls as they pulled out chairs and plunked down next to her. She took a paper napkin from a dispenser and smoothed it over her lap. “This is really nice,” she said. And it was, until the questions started.
Barb leaned forward, her chin in her hands. “Okay, Blair. What’s this about a parade contest?”
Sheila nodded. “I want to know about that, too. Spill.” She examined her brightly painted nails and then looked up at Blair with determined eyes. “Inquiring minds want to know. Could Celebration really win fifty grand? Because I need a new computer.”
Blair pressed her lips together. “Uh, how did you…?”
“It’s already on the docket for the town-council meeting. Which is tomorrow,” Sheila said. All three women stared at Blair and she twisted the napkin in her lap.
“Well,” she began, “it’s a statewide contest sponsored by Macy’s. You know, the Thanksgiving Day parade in New York City?” The women nodded eagerly. “So, the contest is for small towns, and I’m entering Celebration in it. Judging takes place on the Fourth of July and if we win, yes, we get fifty thousand dollars.” She glanced at Sheila. “But the prize money is for future town events, not supplies.”
Shelia rolled her eyes. “So you’d be padding your own budget.” She scowled when Barb gave her a sharp elbow. “Sorry. That came out wrong.”
Blair shrugged. “It came out honest. I hadn’t thought about it that way, really, but you’re right, in a way. Think about this, though—with that kind of money, Celebration could…turn itself into a tourist destination.”
Yeah. That was it—start building the enthusiasm early. Because she had to win that parade contest. She nodded encouragingly as if to reinforce her own enthusiasm.
The women stared at her for a second and then burst into laughter, right as Debbie arrived at the table with Styrofoam plates full of doughnuts.
“What’s so funny?” Debbie asked.
Blair tried to give her a smile. “What would you think if Celebration became the parade capital of New York?”
Debbie pursed her lips. “As long as it brought a ton of people into my shop, I think it would be wonderful.”
“Bingo,” Blair said. “See? It’s not only about winning the prize. This could be the start of something great.” And she needed a real challenge. She needed to prove herself—to herself. It felt good to be invested in something and even better to be using creative energy after months of doing nothing but shuffling résumés and spending countless hours
Blair smiled at her.
“Hey, girls! Need a dozen today?” The woman whipped out a to-go box.
“Hey, Debbie,” the women chorused.
Shelia waved a hand. “We’re going to eat here, Deb. Put that box away.”
Debbie chuckled and walked around the counter, eyeglasses on a rhinestone chain swinging across her chest with her quick steps. “You must be Blair,” she said, sticking out a hand.
“Pleasure to meet you, Debbie. It smells amazing in here. Are you going to make me fat?” Blair asked with a grin, shaking her hand.
“That’s completely up to you,” Debbie answered. She scratched under her hairnet and pursed her lips. “But I will say this—city hall is my biggest customer.”
“I take offense at that,” called an elderly man from a table near the window. The senior citizens sitting with him nodded.
“Sorry,” Debbie said. “Sunnyside Retirement Center and city hall are my biggest customers.”
“That’s more like it,” the man said, raising a mug of coffee in salute.
Debbie pushed Blair toward an empty table. “Sit, sit. What kind would you like?”
Blair glanced at the glass case, her mouth suddenly watering. “How about a chocolate-frosted one?”
“You got it.”
Debbie darted away and Blair smiled at the accounting girls as they pulled out chairs and plunked down next to her. She took a paper napkin from a dispenser and smoothed it over her lap. “This is really nice,” she said. And it was, until the questions started.
Barb leaned forward, her chin in her hands. “Okay, Blair. What’s this about a parade contest?”
Sheila nodded. “I want to know about that, too. Spill.” She examined her brightly painted nails and then looked up at Blair with determined eyes. “Inquiring minds want to know. Could Celebration really win fifty grand? Because I need a new computer.”
Blair pressed her lips together. “Uh, how did you…?”
“It’s already on the docket for the town-council meeting. Which is tomorrow,” Sheila said. All three women stared at Blair and she twisted the napkin in her lap.
“Well,” she began, “it’s a statewide contest sponsored by Macy’s. You know, the Thanksgiving Day parade in New York City?” The women nodded eagerly. “So, the contest is for small towns, and I’m entering Celebration in it. Judging takes place on the Fourth of July and if we win, yes, we get fifty thousand dollars.” She glanced at Sheila. “But the prize money is for future town events, not supplies.”
Shelia rolled her eyes. “So you’d be padding your own budget.” She scowled when Barb gave her a sharp elbow. “Sorry. That came out wrong.”
Blair shrugged. “It came out honest. I hadn’t thought about it that way, really, but you’re right, in a way. Think about this, though—with that kind of money, Celebration could…turn itself into a tourist destination.”
Yeah. That was it—start building the enthusiasm early. Because she had to win that parade contest. She nodded encouragingly as if to reinforce her own enthusiasm.
The women stared at her for a second and then burst into laughter, right as Debbie arrived at the table with Styrofoam plates full of doughnuts.
“What’s so funny?” Debbie asked.
Blair tried to give her a smile. “What would you think if Celebration became the parade capital of New York?”
Debbie pursed her lips. “As long as it brought a ton of people into my shop, I think it would be wonderful.”
“Bingo,” Blair said. “See? It’s not only about winning the prize. This could be the start of something great.” And she needed a real challenge. She needed to prove herself—to herself. It felt good to be invested in something and even better to be using creative energy after months of doing nothing but shuffling résumés and spending countless hours
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