Until There Was You(73)
The float was just about to enter the official parade route, which wound for a mile and a half through town before ending at Memorial Bridge Park for the ceremonies. People from other floats milled around, kids dressed in their band uniforms scampered and warmed up, the Pedersen boys got ready to fire off the cannon that would mark the start of the parade.
Gretchen turned around from her seat on the front of the sleigh, where she sat with Max and Stacia. “The story is, Jon, that I’m the true princess, and Posey—”
“The evil serving wench,” Posey supplied.
“Not quite, and I was getting to that,” Gretchen said coolly. “Posey, my jealous maid, and I are on the way to the neighboring kingdom so I can marry the prince. But she steals my clothes and tries to pass herself off as me. In the meantime, I tend the castle geese, but the king—that’s Papa, of course—the king can tell that I’m the true princess, and I’m reinstated and marry you, Jon.”
“You lucky thing,” Posey murmured.
“What happens to the maid?” Brie asked.
“Oh, I’m put into a barrel lined with nails and dragged through town until I’m dead,” Posey said. “Fun, huh? Gotta make sure I read those fairy tales to my kids someday.”
“Why isn’t Posey the true princess?” Brie asked, her voice loud and defensive, and Posey felt a rush of love. Tough-girl act aside, Brianna was a sweetheart.
“It’s really not my thing,” she said. “I’d rather be the evil wench. More character.”
“So Lady Boobs-a-Plenty got the job,” Brianna said.
It was true. Gretchen’s generous cle**age spilled out in levels not seen in New Hampshire since prostitution was outlawed. The true princess costume was low, tight and white, complete with sparkles, a staff and crown—Glinda the Good Witch, Vegas-style—and since Posey wasn’t the dress-up type, she didn’t really mind. Not much.
Max turned around and smiled. “Well, you’re still my princess, honey.”
“Aw. Thanks, Dad.”
“Can we stop the chatter? Places, everyone!” Gretchen commanded. Elise waddled obediently to the back of the float.
“This is so awesome, right?” she said to Brianna. “Don’t you, like, love being a goose?”
“If I had a gun—” Brianna began, but Posey snapped her beak closed.
“Okay, people, let’s make this a great show!” Gretchen said, her voice loud, her smile ferocious. “Brianna, if that’s your name, and Elise, would you mind honking once in a while? Not too loud. And in five, four, three…” She counted down on her fingers, going silent for two and one, as if the cameras were about to start broadcasting. The float rolled into motion. “Hello there!” Gretchen called. “So nice to see you! Happy Founders’ Day! Thank you!”
“Can I whip this candy at the back of her head?” Brianna asked, her voice muffled.
“No,” Posey said as Jon snorted. “Just toss it—gently—at the crowd.”
Posey loved the parade, roles aside. She knew plenty of people, of course, and Gretchen’s small fame had a couple of tweenie girls run out to the sleigh for an autograph, which Gretchen demurely gave. Brianna proved to have unerring aim, winging her classmates with the hard lumps of marzipan under the cover of goose. There were Kate and James, Kate blowing her nose loudly. Brie whipped about fifteen pieces of marzipan at James, and he gave her a peace sign in return. Kids yelled out to Jon, who responded by singing phrases of Gilbert and Sullivan. Elise was having a marvelous time, laughing and honking and occasionally leaning off the float for a glimpse of Mac’s solid back. They passed a group of familiar faces—Vivian and her geriatric peeps. “Hi, Vivian!” Posey called, laughing as Viv covered her mouth in horror. “Laugh all you want.” Vivian pulled out her phone, held it up, and Posey knew her picture would be on Facebook in seconds.
Unfortunately, a bank of solid gray clouds rolled in, dropping the temperature by a good five degrees. In her short-sleeved dirndl, which was thin with age, Posey was freezing. She looked enviously at the well-padded Gretchen, sitting snugly between her well-padded parents, and shivered.
The parade turned onto Miner Street, and people clapped and pointed at the Barefoot Fraulein, who was eating it up. “Thank you so much! It’s so nice to see everyone! Happy Founders’ Day!”
There was Inferno. The restaurant really was gorgeous, an old brick-and-stone building. The window boxes overflowed with trailing ivy and deep purple viburnum, and the paned windows gleamed. The staff wore all black. Max and Stacia studiously ignored the restaurant, waving to the folks on the other side of the street.
And there was Dante, just coming out of Inferno now, his trademark white suit a stark contrast to the black-clad staff. The sight of him caused a pang of anxiety in her stomach—that or the four pieces of marzipan she’d eaten. Again, the similarities between Dante and Liam leaped out at her. Two good-looking guys, neither of them interested in a real relationship. But she was on a float, and to compensate for the cold shoulder from her parents, she waved at the Inferno staff.
Dante folded his arms and shook his head. “Those geese look like they’re on their last legs,” he said, loud enough to be easily heard on the float. “I bet we’ll be seeing them on Guten Tag’s menu any day now.” He grinned, and his staff guffawed with mean laughter.