Page 37 of A Secret Chance
“There,” Baxter interrupted. “There’s your game.”
Thomas rolled his eyes at him. “Thanks, boss.”
Baxter smiled as he imagined Thomas watching a team of kids falling all over each other chasing a puck. “Look, do I want to go to this thing? No.” He sat down at the table. “But you heard the mayor; we need to do some damage control in this town.”
“How about we bring in Miranda?” Barry suggested.
Miranda was the firm’s PR executive and had gotten the company out of hot water on more than one occasion. Baxter grimaced when he realized that the last big public relations nightmare had been about an oil leak on one of the job sites. The environment wasn’t totally off Caldwell’s radar, but it fell well below profit on the list of importance.
“Not yet,” Baxter said. Bringing in Miranda could make things worse for them. “Let’s go, mingle with the townspeople, drink some hot chocolate, and maybe get a few of them on our side.”
Both Barry and Thomas crossed their arms across their chests, clearly not happy about the afternoon excursion. “I know that this is unorthodox. But we take clients out for dinner all the time, just think of the residents here as potential clients, and this carnival thing, a lobster dinner.”
He couldn’t help holding in his smile, and all four of them burst out in laughter.
“Fine,” Thomas said. “Let’s get this over with.”
***
AFTER LUNCH, THE FOURof them piled into the SUV, and Al took them downtown. The car slowed to a crawl as they headed toward the community center. Cars were lined up along the side of the road for as far as Baxter could see. Fathers were dragging toboggans down the sidewalk, filled with toddlers in puffy one-piece suits. He found himself smiling at the dedicated fathers who were actually spending time with their kids. It was something he had always yearned for when he was a kid.
“Can you drink at these things?” Barry asked.
“I’m not too sure,” Nicole said. She pulled out her phone and started scrolling. “Yep,” she smiled and held up her phone triumphantly. There’s a beer garden and it’s even craft beer.
“That’s surprising,” Thomas said.
Baxter saw Al raise his eyebrows in the rearview mirror. He elbowed Thomas hard and flicked a glance to indicate the driver. Compared to the eyes that were always on them in Chance Rapids, he was starting to appreciate the anonymity the city afforded them. He wondered how many of their conversations Al had relayed to his buddies at the bar.
“Actually, I’ve heard that the beer is top-notch,” he said.
Thomas wasn’t an idiot and caught on. “I can’t wait to try some then,” he said.
“I’ll drop you off at the front,” Al said. The crowd was growing thicker.
“Is everyone in town here?” Baxter asked, gazing at the sea of people ahead of him, colorful parkas bustling about in the parking lot adjacent to the skating rink.
“Pretty much,” Al chuckled.
Baxter took a deep breath. He had been playing the scenario in his head over and over on the drive into town. He had figured out how he was going to play it if she was there. Cool. That’s it. Miss Bunkman was a business acquaintance and that’s all. If he saw one of his rival executives at a lounge, he would say hi, or at least acknowledge their existence, and that’s what he was going to do with Lauren - if she was even there. But his quickened heartbeat and sweaty palms told him that he knew the answer. Of course, she was going to be there.
“Alright, the entrance is over there.” Al put the car in park and pointed in the direction of the colorful crowd. “Do you have your medallions?”
“We’ve got ‘em,” Baxter said. “Come on, guys. Put on your badges.” They groaned and complied. The medallions had been strung on varying shades of yarn and looked out of place against the cashmere and wool coats of his team. Odd like ketchup on caviar.
They hopped out of the car, with Baxter was the only one in sensible footwear. His boots aggressively crunched in the freshly fallen snow while the rest of his group slipped and slid their way to the festival. As much as he hated to admit it, Baxter found himself constantly scanning the crowd, his heart jumping every time someone with long chestnut hair came into view.
“Well, where should we start?” Baxter asked.
Nicole grabbed a paper itinerary and had it unfolded in front of her face. “Ooh, how about the chainsaw carving?”
“What are they carving?” Barry asked.
“Doesn’t say,” she replied.
“Let’s start there,” Baxter said. “Lead the way, Nicole.” Nicole smiled and teetered on her heels ahead of the men in her group. As they wound their way through the Skittle-colored crowd, Baxter whispered to Barry, “I didn’t know that this many people could fit in this town.”
“I know,” Barry whispered back. “But this is probably the only interesting thing they get to do all year.”
