Growing Season Read online

  “How did it go last night?” Melinda asked as she set her purse behind the counter. Prosper Hardware had remained open until eight on the first day of the festival. She had stayed until five, and Bill, who had come in later than usual yesterday morning, helped Esther close.

  “Crazy busy. Couldn’t believe it was a Thursday. Most of the activities didn’t start until six or so, like the softball games over at the school field, but it was crowded in here the whole time. I hear the food vendors over at the city park were pleased with their sales last night. The beer tent was packed, and the band played until midnight.”

  Parade watchers were already lining up their lawn chairs along Main Street. Some of the seats were empty, but Melinda knew their owners had staked out prime places before walking over to the pancake breakfast. Seating was first-come, first-served, but no one would be rude enough to shove anyone else’s chair out of the way. Latecomers would settle for sitting on the curb or standing behind the chairs.

  Her parents were going to the pancake breakfast before coming to Prosper Hardware. Diane thought they should stake out a spot in front of the store with their chairs, but Roger cautioned that plan could backfire.

  “You know that’s a prime spot, honey,” he had said the other night when Melinda was at their house for dinner. “Might look like favoritism, being that your family owns the store and all. Could rub someone the wrong way.”

  “I get that everyone knows Mom,” Melinda had said, “but does everyone recognize your lawn chairs, too? It is that serious of an offense?”

  Diane had sighed and patted Roger’s hand. “Let’s just plan to watch the parade from the doorway of the store, just to keep the peace. Besides, Miriam will need our help setting up for the open house.”

  Melinda spent the next hour straightening displays and polishing the counter. The flower baskets had received an extra soaking yesterday afternoon, as there would be too much congestion out front this morning to wrangle the ladder and watering can along the sidewalk. Bill double-checked the restroom was clean and stocked then stationed himself upfront to help customers, as Melinda would be busy working the register. A steady stream of people came through once the store opened, many of them purchasing sodas and snacks.

  While Bill took a turn behind the counter, Melinda filled a bucket with small American flags on sticks to hand out in front of the store. She’d been inspired to place an order when a merchandising catalog turned up in the store’s post office box. The flag’s wooden poles were flat, more like popsicle sticks than dowels, and for a small fee she’d been able to have “Prosper Hardware” printed on one side.

  She toted the galvanized tub out the front door and began offering the flags to passerby, reminding them to stop at the open house after the parade. Most of the adults were dragging lawn chairs, coolers and children, and accepted the flags with at least a polite smile. It was the kids, however, who really appreciated the tokens. Already in overdrive from the day’s building excitement, they whipped the little flags in the air, whooping and shouting. Hundreds of people were starting to jam the sidewalk up and down Main Street, and the supply of flags was rapidly being depleted. Melinda decided to switch tactics and offer the flags only to the littlest revelers.

  “That was fast,” Miriam came in from the back, wearing a red-and-blue tee shirt and grinning from ear to ear, just as Melinda brought the empty bucket inside. She could see how being at the store energized her aunt.

  “I had no idea how many to order. I got us a hundred, and they’re gone already.” She pushed the bucket behind the counter. “Just look at all these people. I remember when I was kid, how huge the crowd was. I’ve been thinking that maybe everything just seemed larger because I was younger then. But the sidewalks are just packed. And here comes Mom.”

  Diane fanned herself as she came in the front door. Melinda suspected her dad was still over at the church breakfast, helping himself to the last of the pancakes. “No one has a good count, but I know Jerry always estimates at least a couple thousand people attend the parade every year,” Diane said, checking her watch. “And they’ll be starting any minute now.”

  It wasn’t long before the blare of a fire truck siren echoed down Main Street, causing the revelers to glance away from their conversations with friends and neighbors and hurry to their seats. The giddy anticipation of the crowd was infectious, and Melinda hurried out to stand in the shade of the store’s awning and peer down toward the co-op. The parade route started and ended at the elementary school, with the procession following Oak to First, then turning on Main. Once they reached the corner by Doc’s office, the entries would turn on Fourth and back to the school’s parking lot.

  “Here they come!” shouted a little boy in front of the store, his mother grabbing the back of his shirt as he tried to leap out to the curb.

  Members of the local veterans’ organization started off the parade, stepping smartly in their pressed uniforms as the flags in their hands listed in the humid air. Then Prosper’s one fire truck came into view, lights whirling and siren blaring. It had been waxed and polished until its chrome threw off blinding glints from the late-morning sun. Parades were an opportunity for small town emergency crews from miles around to show off their vehicles and gear, and it was tradition for the hosting community’s rig to lead the way. Crew members toting cherry-red buckets dropped candy into the hands of the eager children along the street.

  Close behind came Jerry, nearly unrecognizable in a pressed button-down shirt, riding in a convertible and waving to the crowd. He gave Melinda a thumbs-up and she waved back. Then the notes of the National Anthem drifted up Main Street, and parade watchers scrambled out of their lawn chairs and removed their hats. Members of the local high school’s marching band, wearing black shorts and purple tee shirts, came into view.

  Marching bands from three other schools were also in the lineup, along with entries from dozens of businesses and community groups. Some participants simply walked the parade route, carrying signs or banners and waving to the crowd. Others had spent countless hours building floats and polishing their vehicles. Doc pulled by in his veterinary truck, the metal tackle box in the back gleaming and the signs Melinda had painted tied to each side. He tooted his horn when he approached the store.

  Members of Swanton’s Jaycees handed out even more candy to the children. The crowd roared as a group of Shriners circled their motorcycles in an intricate maneuver in the street. A local trail club, the horses flashing patriotic ribbons in their manes and tails, high-stepped down the parade route. A dozen elementary-school kids in patriotic costumes, with their parents walking along behind, piloted their big wheels in random patterns.

  The procession lasted nearly forty-five minutes, longer than Melinda expected. She smiled as she went back into the store to make the final preparations for the open house. So many times as an adult, the anticipation of revisiting something from childhood outweighed the actual event. It just wasn’t the same, or as great as one remembered. But it was now obvious that the Fourth of July in Prosper was still as special as when she was a little girl.

  Miriam had ducked out before the end of the parade to drive the few blocks home and bring Frank over for the open house. Soon Bill and Frank were coming up the aisle from the back, with Frank determined to move under his own, slow power and Bill trying to act as if he wasn’t serving as a medical escort.

  “Miriam’s parking the car. It’s the one day of the year where parking’s at a premium in this town,” Uncle Frank told Melinda. “Almost felt like I ought to knock at the back door on the way in. Haven’t been here for a month. Don’t think that’s happened in all the years we’ve run the store.”

  Frank was decked out in a red-and-blue plaid shirt and khakis, with his gray hair combed across to stubbornly cover his receding hairline. He looked happy, but rather pale. Melinda was concerned, but reminded herself that this was probably the most strenuous activity he had attempted in weeks. He just needed to regain his strength. />
  “Let me help you.” She met Frank and Bill at the far end of the counter and offered her arm, a gesture which Frank pretended to wave away then gratefully accepted.

  “Forgot how long of a walk it is from the back lot to the front of the store,” he said, a little out of breath as he sank into the padded stool set by the counter. Bill came down from the upstairs office with a glass of ice water and a coaster.

  “Thanks, Bill and Melinda,” Frank wiped his brow and leaned his arm on the oak counter. Melinda thought she saw a few tears in his eyes. “Oh, it feels so good to be back. You don’t know how I’ve missed this place.”

  Frank took a grateful gulp of the water. “How was the parade? Jerry was at the front I suppose, waving like the president.” Uncle Frank and Jerry had been friends for decades, but Aunt Miriam told Melinda there was always an air of competition between them that she had never quite figured out.

  “Yes, he was master of ceremonies, as always,” Melinda said, then tried to change the topic. “Now, anything else you need?”

  “The pork producers are firing up those grills over in the city park. That wonderful smell hit me as I got out of the car.” He leaned in close. “How about one of you run over there and get me a tenderloin or two? Pickles and mustard, hold the ketchup.”

  “Very funny, Frank.” Bill started for the front of the store, when two more customers had just wandered in. “Miriam already told me all about it. You’re not supposed to have any fried food. I don’t know how you are going to make it, but you’re supposed to be eating healthy from now on.”

  “Oh, come on,” Frank whispered to Melinda, glancing to the back of the store. “It’ll take her a while to find a parking spot with that crowd. You can run out quick and be back before she notices, just hide it upstairs for now …”

  “It’s getting steamy out there,” Miriam said as she came in from the back, a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead. “I’m parked at the end of Third, practically in the corn field on the edge of town. Melinda and Diane, would you bring the cookies up from the back? I left them on the cutting table when I dropped Frank off.” She turned to her husband, worry on her face. “I see you made it up here by yourself. I hated to just dump and run, honey, but we’ve got to hurry.”

  Before he could answer, she gave him a knowing smile. “And I’ve got a nice grilled chicken salad in the cooler for our lunch. Wouldn’t hurt me to drop a few pounds, too.” She turned to Diane and Melinda and lowered her voice. “I can always run out and grab something else later on, maybe a funnel cake …”

  “I heard that!” Frank turned and widened his eyes at his wife. “I’ve got a feeble heart these days, but I’m not deaf.”

  Miriam must have packed cookies into every food container she owned, Melinda decided as they brought the packages up from the back room. There were peanut butter cookies with chocolate stars, sugar cookies with patriotic icing, then chocolate chip, oatmeal, and more.

  Frank put a hand on her arm as she came by, then snapped open the lid on a stack of M&M and walnut cookies. “I’ll take one of those, thanks.” He winked at Melinda, who started to give him a warning.

  “Now, hey. These are baked, not fried. She never needs to know.”

  “The store looks great, Melinda.” Diane arranged pitchers of lemonade, dripping with condensation, on the folding table by the vintage cabinet, whose counter was loaded with cookies. Melinda had blanketed both surfaces with patriotic tablecloths and draped some bunting over the top of both the front windows.

  “Thanks, Mom. It’s just sort of tossed together, but it will work. Besides, Frank is the real attraction. He seems overjoyed to be back here, if only for a few hours.” Frank had a dreamy smile on his face as he nibbled at his cookie while Miriam was out of sight, running an errand upstairs.

  “He’s been down, stuck at home for a month,” Diane said. “Maybe if this goes well, he’ll feel more comfortable getting out and about. Just because he can’t work behind the counter at the store, doesn’t mean he has to stay at home all the time.”

  The bell above the front door jingled and an elderly couple came in, calling and waving to Frank. The woman gave him a hug, and the man clapped him on the shoulder. Frank beamed.

  “This was the right thing to do,” Miriam said to Diane and Melinda before heading over to greet the couple. “Look at his face. This will really boost his spirits.”

  It didn’t take long for the aisles of Prosper Hardware to fill with people. Not only did all of them want to see Frank, but they were willing to stand in line to get their few moments with the guest of honor. Both Frank and Miriam glowed as they chatted with old friends, neighbors, and longtime customers. Many of the visitors seemed to know each other, and they were shaking hands and catching up while they waited their turn.

  Diane made trips to the refrigerator upstairs for more jugs of lemonade and water as Melinda tried to keep the cups full. Bill ran the register and Roger bagged purchases. Esther, who had just arrived, went to work stacking more cookies on trays.

  “Melinda!” A woman’s voice caused her to look up from the cups she was filing. “So good to see you!”

  She turned to see a woman about her age with short brown hair and a friendly face. There was a boy holding her right hand and a little girl on her left. Melinda smiled, stalling. She couldn’t put a name with the face. Who was this?

  “I’m Jen Fuller. Well, Jen Collins these days.” The woman nodded at her kids. “We were in debate together, remember? Junior year, when we did that radio play at state?”

  “Oh, yes, of course. How are you? It’s so good to see you.” Melinda grinned, hoping she sounded enthusiastic enough. She felt a pang of guilt that, even with those clues, she only vaguely remembered Jen. Actually, she had been a senior when Jen was a junior, so she wasn’t in Melinda’s class. Even so, shouldn’t she remember someone she was in an activity with in high school? But it seemed so long ago.

  “I’m great, wonderful, actually. Working as a nurse up at the hospital in Mason City. Wasn’t in Frank’s wing, though, when he was there last month, so didn’t see any of you then.” Jen took two cookies off a tray, gave one to each of her children. “My husband, Steve, and I live here in Prosper, over by the school. He’s a sheriff’s deputy, works for the county. How’s Minneapolis? I heard you’re working in public relations. That must be so exciting.”

  Melinda was taken aback for a second. News spread fast around here, but not to everyone. Of course, Jen wouldn’t have known. She could answer honestly, or she could keep the celebratory vibe going with an evasion or two.

  “Oh, it is.” She handed a glass of lemonade to the girl, who paid her back with a shy smile. “Well, I’m more in marketing, actually. But yes, it’s wonderful. Very creative.”

  “Well, I’m so glad you were able to get away long enough for the holiday weekend. I’m sure it means a lot to your family to have you here.” Jen took a second lemonade for her son. “We’re off to the carnival in the park. It was so good to see you!”

  “You too, Jen, have a great time!” She waved as Jen ushered her children to the door.

  Melinda automatically passed out cups of lemonade to more visitors, but her mind kept wandering back to her conversation with Jen. She’d always prided herself on being direct, on not sugarcoating things. But life had been easier before, or at least it seemed that way compared to what had happened in the last two months.

  Other times when she returned home and ran into someone she knew, it had been easy to respond. She’d been proud of her job, her independence, her life in Minneapolis. Maybe she wasn’t married yet, and she didn’t have kids, two things people back home always asked about. But she’d had her career to fall back on in those conversations, and talk of what she was doing professionally often brought smiles of admiration and interest from people around here. It had been enough.

  But now … what did she have? Her brow furrowed as she filed more glasses and handed them out with a smile plastered on her face
. Yes, she had her family and friends, a place to live. Two places, if she counted her apartment and Horace’s farm. But she felt vulnerable, unsure about her future. She had been so busy preparing for the open house that she hadn’t considered the possibility of running into someone she knew, that someone might start asking questions. And she no longer had an easy, cheerful answer to give them.

  CHAPTER 15

  Well, I sort of lied to a bunch of people today,” Melinda said to Angie that evening as they sat on a curb across from the park.

  There was a freshly grilled burger in one of her hands, and an iced tea in the other, so things were looking a little better. She had hurried home after work to get chores done in record time, squeezed in a fifteen-minute nap before she showered, changed into a clean blouse, shorts and sandals, and headed back to Prosper.

  “So what happened?” Angie was trying to keep her bratwurst’s juices in the bun, rather than on her hands. They were waiting for Nathan, who was taking the girls over to his parents’ for the evening, giving the young couple a much-needed night out. Angie had insisted Melinda come with them to the beer garden and listen to the band that was now tuning up down the street.

  “People at the open house started asking me what I was doing, where I was working these days.” Melinda took a satisfying gulp of her tea. A breeze had picked up during the late afternoon, but the air was still hot and muggy.

  “Oh no, that’s the dreaded question,” Angie rolled her eyes. “You’re thinking, ‘What do I say? Do I even care what they think?’” Angie was in good spirits and the most dressed-up Melinda had ever seen her, with her dark-auburn hair pulled up in a bun and a little makeup on her face, wearing a pale green sundress.

  “Exactly.” Melinda pulled her legs up close, out of the way of a group of kids pedaling bicycles down the street. “I hadn’t thought about it until now, really. I guess I assumed the word was out. Prosper Hardware seems to be the epicenter of this town.”