Safe in the Fireman's Arms. Tina Radcliffe

choked. “One hundred and forty-seven tickets for Jake? Are you nuts?”

      “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my cousin and the firemen of Paradise. You know, Al’s on the board of the PVFD. He’d be so proud of me for this.”

      As Maggie folded the tickets into an orderly pile the clapping ceased. People looked around the tent in wide-eyed anticipation.

      A cold chill passed over Maggie. Mouth dry, she looked up at the stage and then to Susan.

      The microphone screeched and crackled. “Is Margaret Jones here?”

      “Susan,” she slowly whispered through terse lips.

      “Hush, now. You’ll embarrass us in front of the mayor. Go on up there,” her cousin admonished.

      Maggie stood, swallowed and took a shuddering breath. Amid the cheers and applause she marched stiffly to the stage, grateful they were seated so close.

      The mayor put his hand on her arm and spoke into the microphone. “Ah, just a minute there, Margaret.” He glanced around. “I’m sure our citizens would like to meet Bob and Betty’s niece. Margaret is managing the fix-it shop while Bob is gone fishing, and of course you all saw her face on the front page of the Paradise paper this week.”

      A wave of chuckles spread across the audience.

      Maggie attempted a smile, knowing the result was sickly at best. She moved from the stage, down the stairs and directly past Susan and the crowd, her eyes fixed forward. Without thinking she kept walking until she reached the sanctuary of the bait tent.

      Stunned, one hand clutched the envelope against her hammering heart. Her other hand held the tangled ball of ticket stubs. Jake’s poster slid from under her arm as she sagged against the nearest table.

      “So, we have a date.” Jake’s cheerful voice reached her before he did.

      Startled, Maggie straightened. She carefully gathered her pride around her, but didn’t face him. “I imagine you’re used to this sort of thing.

      “Used to it? No way. Though I will admit I’m relieved one of the ladies from the retirement home didn’t win.”

      She dared to finally turn and look at him. Oh, those laughing eyes.

      “Out of curiosity, how many tickets do you have there?” he asked.

      “One hundred and forty-seven.”

      His eyes rounded. “Whoa. I’m not sure if I should be flattered or terrified.”

      “Neither. Susan bought them.”

      He frowned. “You don’t sound very enthusiastic.”

      “Don’t I?” She shoved the envelope into her back pocket, and slid the poster and tickets under the table.

      Jake rubbed his chin. “I hope you’re not planning to back down. It wouldn’t look good for the chief to get stood up.”

      “Yes, and in an election year, too.”

      Jake paused. “How’d you know about that?”

      “Lucky guess.” Maggie picked up a bottle of water from the table. Lifting it to her lips, she drained the entire eight ounces and then aimed for the recycle bin. Her shot was impeccable, echoing through the tent.

      Fortified, she met Jake’s gaze again. “Rest assured, I wouldn’t dream of standing you up, Chief MacLaughlin. I’m going to think of this as my civic duty.”

       Chapter Three

      “Here’s the problem, Susan. I don’t do dresses.” Maggie glanced around the boutique from the door’s threshold and shivered.

      Susan patted Maggie’s hand before gently urging her farther into the shop. “I know, honey, but you’re going to have to work with me. I consider it a personal challenge to my creative genius to find you the perfect ensemble for this appointment with destiny.”

      Maggie closed her eyes and then opened them slowly. She was pretty certain she’d fallen into a Colorado rabbit hole and would never find her way out.

      “Dresses aside, your entire wardrobe is a cry for help. Why, you don’t own anything, besides blue jeans, that isn’t in the neutral family.”

      Maggie would concede that on that particular point, unfortunately her trendy cousin was spot-on.

      Susan continued. “You probably are unaware that I am the personal shopper for Bernice Harris.”

      “Bernice who?”

      “Bernice Harris, the reigning Bison Queen of Paradise Valley. She’ll be on a float during the parade Saturday.”

      “Parade?” Maggie frowned. “What parade?”

      “This weekend is huge in Paradise. The Founder’s Day parade is Saturday morning before the supper. Why, this weekend heralds the onslaught of tourist season. So you can see why we have our work cut out for us.”

      “We do?”

      “Oh, yes. It’s already Monday. You’ll need several new outfits, besides a dress.”

      Maggie uttered a noncommittal sound as she considered a dash for the door. What was the point? Since they were kids Susan and her long legs had always arrived everywhere first.

      “Did I tell you that Bernice asked me to go on tour with her? Naturally I turned her down. I’m needed here. This boutique is my calling. I’m sort of a missionary to the fashionless.” Susan offered a benevolent smile. “You, my dear cousin, shall be my coup de grâce. If I can make you look good I can make anyone look good.”

      Maggie flinched at the words, before glancing at her utilitarian leather watch. “I’m on my lunch break.”

      “Enough time to get started.”

      Susan reached out a hand and plucked Maggie’s tan cotton shirt between her thumb and forefinger. “These clothes you wear. They do nothing for you.” She released the fabric and rubbed her hands together.

      “What exactly did you have in mind, Susan?”

      Susan’s finely shaped brows knit together in deep thought. “Well, first, I’d like to see Chief MacLaughlin brought to his knees.”

      “This is not about Jake MacLaughlin,” Maggie sputtered.

      “When men are in the equation it’s always about them.”

      “No! My goal is simply to not embarrass myself. Couldn’t you help me to blend in? Not stand out.”

      Susan shook her head and sighed. “Maggie. Maggie. Maggie. You’re the smartest woman I know. Assistant professor of physical science at age thirty-two. Dr. Margaret Jones. Very impressive.” She crossed her arms and tapped her toe. “Why is it, do you suppose, that you have set such a low bar for your personal life?”

      Susan’s words hit the target with impeccable precision. “Um...I...” The air whooshed from Maggie’s lungs, deflating her outrage.

      Okay, fine. Susan was right. Maggie had spent a lifetime making her parents’ priorities her priorities, barely eking out a life of her own. Truth be told, she’d never even lived on her own until now. Pretty much everything in her life was a reflection of her parents’ choices.

      “Well?” Susan asked as she continued to tap an annoying beat on the tile floor.

      Resistance was futile. Maggie took a deep breath. “Fine. Let’s do this.”

      “That’s the attitude. Nothing like a little martyrdom to spark a well-deserved change.”

      Maggie glared.

      “You go right into that first dressing room.”