Sheryl shook her head. “I heard from Sam, you know, the one with the thing.” Ah yeah, Sam with the thing. I knew him well. “He said the kids were excited to help.”
“That’s because their team has never made it into playoffs,” Laurel said.
“They have playoffs?” asked Harvey.
Laurel smacked her forehead. “Yes. Summer league has playoffs.” Laurel shook her head, amazed that the idea had never crossed their minds. I still didn’t understand where she was going with the info.
“None of you know because our team is…”
“Horrible,” said Harvey.
“The absolute worst,” Walter added.
“Didn’t we have a cardboard cutout in left field at one point?” asked Sheryl. Everybody turned to her, eyebrows raised. “It was a rumor I heard.” This is why the Firefly rumor mill couldn’t be trusted.
“They’re good this year. If they go to playoffs, we won’t have volunteers.”
“The parents?—”
Laurel cut off Gladys. “Will be chaperoning in Boston.”
“Chances of that are almost non-existent,” Gladys said.
“They’re so bad,” Harvey chimed in.
Laurel gave a shrug and sat back on the couch. She had offered her input and let it sit out there. I could almost hear her brainstorming how she’d say, “I told you so,” when the team made it into the playoffs. She’d practice it in the mirror when she got home.
“Now for important business.” Gladys gave a quick clap. “What color tablecloth should we use for the organizer table?”
Sheryl leaned forward, finger tapping her chin. I regretted my decision. If this was the worries of a small town, I think I’d implode. The next thing we were going to talk about was?—
“We need to make sure our outfits match.”
There we had it, the trials and tribulations of small-town Maine. It had its charm, and the people were wonderful, but this would drive me nuts. It’d only be a few weeks of their interconnected hive mind, and I’d be clawing at the walls to get out. For now, I’d lend a hand where I could. If nothing else, it’d help carry on Mimi’s work. I could already hear her in the back of my head, reframing the conversation to turn it into an adventure.
Her ghost had a point.
“Orange,” I said.
They all paused. I’m pretty sure Gladys winced at the statement. “Nobody else is going to be wearing it. Nobodylooks good in orange.” Even Harvey shook his head. “We can either fit in, or we can be loud and stand out.”
Gladys eyed Sheryl, who gave a slight shrug. It was Walter who stood up, hands on his hips. “Just imagine this in all orange.”
“I’m imagining a traffic cone,” Laurel said.
“A sexy traffic cone,” he corrected. “They’ll be able to see us across the green. You know who else would have suggested it?”
Laurel reached over, taking my hand. I was confused for a moment when Sheryl leaned forward. She pushed back her shoulder-length hair. “That’s something Hazel would have said.”
Laurel squeezed my hand. Okay, maybe I judged them too harshly. The charm outweighed their outlandish nature. When Harvey helped Walter down to one knee, striking a classic superhero landing pose, I couldn’t help but crack a smile. Thank goodness they were filled with charm.
“Executive order,” Gladys decreed, “orange table clothes and matching outfits. Now, onto the fliers.” She smiled in my direction. “I hear you’re good with a computer.”
There was no easing my way in. Firefly required plunging in headfirst.
I couldn’t get the image of Harvey and Walter out of my head. Throughout the committee meeting, the two had made it abundantly clear they were the best of friends.Finishing each other’s sentences made us all chuckle. Their animated antics kept the mood light as we worked our way through a list of necessary details.
Sipping a cup of chilled hot chocolate, my eyes went wide.
