Page 70 of Fish and Chip: Nine Lives One Murder
The float before us is a masterpiece of fall-themed excess—a massive harvest number with an enormous maple tree centerpiece whose leaves are actual autumn foliage in blazing oranges and deep crimson reds. Golden garlands drape from branch to branch, and at the base of the tree sit two miniature thrones upholstered in royal blue and pumpkin-orange velvet. The tree is surrounded by oversized pumpkins, hay bales, and chrysanthemums the size of beach balls.
“You’ve got thirty seconds!” the coordinator shrieks like he’s about to combust.
We scramble aboard, flinging ourselves onto the float as it lurches into motion. I deposit Fish and Chip onto their velvet thrones with the elegance of a theme park manager hurling felines at a deadline.
Prepare the royal wave,Fish instructs, settlingonto her blue velvet throne, looking every bit the queen she is.Not too enthusiastic—we’re monarchs, not game show contestants.
Can monarchs get paid in hot dogs?Chip inquires, positioning himself on his orange throne.I spy a hot dog vendor who looks susceptible to feline charm.
The parade lurches into motion, the band striking up a lively tune that seems to have been arranged specifically to be both festive and impossible to get out of your head.
Ree, Georgie, and I take our positions on the lower platform, waving to the surprisingly large crowd that has gathered despite—or perhaps because of—the afternoon’s excitement.
“Nothing like a little felony flavored drama to boost parade turnout,” Georgie chirps. “Let’s schedule one every Saturday. Think of the ticket sales!”
“No way. Let’s not turn murder into a marketing strategy,” Ree counters, despite the fact she looks thoughtful in the way that suggests she’s already running numbers in her head. “However, I suppose we could add a true crime festival to the calendar. Murder and Mayhem Weekends has a nice ring to it.”
“You two are terrible.” I laugh, even though I’m already thinking about fall attendance projections myself.
What does it say about me that my first week of park management involved both a homicide and improved profit margins?
The parade winds its way through all ten Hollows of the park, the music changing slightly to match each themed area. In Wild Adventures Hollow, the band adopts a jungle beat; in Galaxy Hollow, they switch to something vaguely futuristic. And Fish and Chip remain impressively in character throughout, acknowledging their subjects with measured nods and the occasional benevolent paw wave.
Finally, after what feels like approximately seventeen miles of parade route, we circle back to the front gates, where I disembark with a bounce in my step and popcorn still in my bra.
I’ve just stepped off the float, collecting Fish and Chip in my arms, when two familiar voices cry out?—
“Mom!”
I spin around. Two girls sprint toward me—Riley and McKenna—my nearly twin twenty-somethings with matching smiles and better fashion sense than I’ve ever had. Both share my red hair and blue eyes, though Riley stands an inch taller and McKenna’s smile reveals a crooked lift she inherited from her father.
“Riley! McKenna?” I laugh as they collide with me in a group hug that nearly topples all of us. “What are you doing here?”
“We came to see Chip’s big debut!” Riley squeals, scooping him up. “Our grumpy little mascot!”
At last, recognition,Chip preens.Though I expected a crown and a fish-shaped cake.
“And we wanted to see Fish, too,” McKenna coos, offering the cute kitty an admiring scratch. “She’s a true queen.”
Flattery will get you everywhere,Fish coos right back.Especially if it comes with sardines.
“This is so awesome, Mom,” Riley goes on. “Everything is so great! The park looks amazing!”
The younger hoomans always did have better taste,Chip notes.Unlike their father, who once suggested I was just a cat. As if there could be such a thing as just a cat.
And speaking of demons summoned by name, Clyde strolls up in overpriced denim and emotional baggage.
“Well, well.” He smirks. “My ex, the theme park maven.”
“I prefer heroine of my own story,” I reply sweetly. “You were just a subplot.”
Riley and McKenna shoot their father identical warning looks, and he has the grace to look chastened.
“Okay, fine,” he admits, surveying the park with reluctant approval. “You’ve really turned this place around. I didn’t thinkyou had it in you.”
From Clyde, that’s basically a standing ovation.
“I may as well go on a few rides while I’m here,” he adds with a frown.
