Dad smiled wide and bobbed his head to the cadence of the chant.
Not to be left out, a chant started among those in green. “Spar-ky’s! Spar-ky’s! Spar-ky’s!”
TheGood Morning, USAcamera operator panned across the crowd.
The mayor gestured for the crowd to quiet down while laughing. “No one can say this town doesn’t love two of its oldest businesses. We owe a lot to Sparky Flynn and Red Brewer, and their legacy of supporting Maplewood is what brought us here tonight. For those who don’t know, Sparky and Red used to make sure Maplewoodians had a warm meal in their bellies on Christmas Eve during times when not everyone could afford to prepare a meal for their families. In gratitude for what they did for our ancestors, we hope you enjoyed this delicious meal tonight.”
Her words made the back of my throat burn. I was proud to be a part of that legacy.
While Mayor Axelrod spoke of the value of community, Dad and Grandpa whispered to my right. Then I saw Ian nod at Dad. What were they up to?
“With that, I hope you all enjoy the rest of this meal with your neighbors and loved ones. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate.”
“Mayor Axelrod, mind if we say a few words?” Dad asked.
“Please.” She gestured to the microphone and moved to stand next to Bo.
Grandpa, Ian, and Ian’s dad joined Dad at the microphone.
Dad cleared his throat and tapped the microphone, which sent a horrible noise through the room. “Sorry about that. I’m not used to these.” He shared a nervous look with Ian.
I turned to Amos, who looked as confused as I felt.
“As you all likely suspect, there isn’t much that we agree on.” Dad gestured between him and Ian as laughter echoed through the room. “But I’m confident we agree on how grateful we are that Maplewood has supported our restaurants for generations.” Dad made room for Ian to move closer to the mic.
“It’s so special that we’re able to support community sports leagues, civic groups, be a part of your celebrations, and join the town at our many wonderful festivals,” Ian said.
He paused and gave Dad a long look. My pulse thundered in my ears as I tried to figure out why they were acting so squirrely. This wasn’t simply thanking the town for recognizing their grandfathers’ contributions to Maplewood’s history. There was something else.
“With that said, it’s time we come clean about something.” Dad’s voice wavered slightly.
When Dad locked eyes with me, my heart leaped into my throat.
“The truth is, Joe and I have been pals for years,” Ian said.
Gasps raced through the crowd. Amos’s mouth fell open as he stared at me in shock.
“We haven’t meant to deceive you,” he continued, but the rumblings in the audience grew louder as people broke out into conversation.
Theresa conferred with Mandeep. Both turned to us wearing matching frowns.
I was elated that the secret was no more, but I felt like I was helplessly watching a train wreck in action. WouldGood Morning, USApull the segment? Would Maplewood get trashedon national television for fabricating a rivalry? Was this all because I’d kissed Amos in the storage room? Doubts and self-flagellations made my head spin.
“Everyone, quiet please. We have something to say,” Grandpa said in his booming voice. Even in his eighties, with his frailer frame, he could command a room.
Silence fell immediately.
“After our dads died, we learned that Sparky and Red had done more charity work than we even knew. Once they stopped talking, they continued it individually and privately. We decided that we wanted to continue their work together,” Amos’s grandpa said.
“Much like our fathers, all we’ve wanted to do is help Maplewood. We did what we thought was right, and we’ve continued secretly supporting the town for years. Our sons have carried on the tradition,” Grandpa said.
“What are they talking about?” I asked Grandma. She rubbed my back but said nothing.
“Many of you in this room have been the recipients of anonymous goodwill gestures. A meal that showed up at your house when your loved one was sick, a hospital bill that somehow got paid, or someone showing up to help patch your roof after a big storm. That’s been us,” Amos’s grandpa said.
Dad took over the mic. “We’re not sharing this for credit and we don’t plan to stop. Over the decades, we’ve partnered with some very special people who help make this happen, and no, we’re not sharing their identities.”
What the hell is going on?
