I come to a box labeledOld Fire House. Inside are photos, newspaper clippings, and memorabilia. “I should give this to Patton,” I whisper.
“Only if you admit you might have a crush.”
Angling my head, I’m about to defend myself again, but it’s no use. “Fine, I might have a crush.”
Peony squeals and bounces on her toes. “I knew it.”
“Shh. Keep it down.”
“You sound like Geraldine.”
I wrinkle my nose and then let out a tiny squeal of admission.
We jump up and down, trembling with laughter as we hold it in so the head librarian doesn’t lodge a noise complaint all the way from home.
When I get home, I show my grandmother the contents of the box. She takes a trip down memory lane to when she and Grandpa moved into this cottage—their little hideaway on the lake.
She smiles as if she’s still in love, still has a crush on her late husband. “Your grandfather and my relationship started with a bet.”
I squawk, not sure what’s more surprising—her comment or the possibility that she knows about what my coworkers proposed. Did my grandmother contribute to the pool of funds?
“My friends bet I couldn’t get the grumpy mechanic to take me dancing. He never went to dances, never socialized, just worked on cars all day.” She smiles at the memory.
“Grandpa was grumpy?”
“Stoic is a more accurate description, but I took that bet and ran all the way to the altar.”
“Does Mom know?”
“Some of the story. I showed up at his garage every day for a week. Brought him lunch, asked about his projects, wore my prettiest dresses.” She giggles. “I was shameless.”
This confirms her sneaky reasons for asking for Patton’s help with the light on Valentine’s Day, but is it also why she sent me to the old firehouse with lunch and brownies?
“So what happened?” I ask.
“As we got to know each other, I fell in love with him. For real. Not because of the bet, but because of who he was.” Shereaches across the table, taking my hand. “So I told him about the bet before our first dance. Confessed everything.”
“And?”
“He laughed. Said he’d made a bet with himself that he wouldn’t fall in love.” Her eyes are damp. “He lost that bet spectacularly. We both did.”
“So you were both betting?”
“We were both falling in love. The bet didn’t matter once our hearts were involved.” She squeezes my hand. “What matters is being honest with yourself and then with him.”
She has a point.
“You know what’s scary? Losing someone because you’re not brave enough to tell the truth.” She stands, moving to the oven. “These brownies smell done. Let’s see if I can win a bet against Judy that my baked goods are better.”
If only ending the war between Patton and me were that easy, then again, we seem to have entered a demilitarized zone. Let’s just hope we can keep the peace and harmony.
21
PATTON
I bracemyself for the town council meeting. It’s packed and Mayor Barbie presides at the podium, wearing a sequined blazer that could double as a disco ball. Treasurer Elmer Finch sits to her left with a paper-spool calculator and a three-ring binder. Councilwoman Gail Clearwater is to her right, already lighting sage despite my previous warnings.
“Order!” Mayor Barbie bangs her gavel. “We’re here to discuss the Fireman’s Ball. Winnie and Patton will present their plans.”
