The kid puffed his chest up. "Yup! My dad helped me with the plans, though."
"Yeah, but somebody told me a Noah Brannigan had run a major fundraising project to build this thing. Is your dad also Noah Brannigan?"
"Nah, he's Jake Rowly. Mom and him helped me?—"
"Mom andhehelped me," Mabs breathed.
Noah rolled his eyes with a depth of exasperation that only small children could truly achieve. "Mom and Dad helped mefigure out everything we needed to do after the town council said, like, 'lol, sure, if you can raise half the money, kid?—'"
Tiffany couldn't help but shoot a quick look at Mabs, who shrugged in a way that suggested Noah's version of the story was close enough to correct, as the little boy barreled on with his explanation. "So I got the other kids to help and lots and lots of the businesses in town donated stuff for prizes and stuff and we made a LOT of money and the mayor said 'and a child shall lead us' only it didn't sound like a compliment and told the town council they had to match what we'd fundraisered and find somebody to do the job and I guess that last part is you but when are you gonna be able to work on theplayground?"
The last few words were accompanied by soulfully hopeful eyes, filled with such sincerity that Tiffany choked on a laugh. It took everything she had to keep her voice steady. "Well, as it turns out, even if we hadn't accidentally wrecked the gazebo, the park was double-booked for the weekend with Steve and Charlee's wedding. Do you know them?"
"I know everybody," Noah said with a child's casual off-hand confidence. "Chef Charlee's nice. Mr. Steve is really big. What's double-booked mean?"
"Oh. It means two things were scheduled at the same time. And their wedding was scheduled first, so I can't start until Monday."
Noah's eyes rounded. "We get the playground onMonday?"
"Well. No. It'll take about three weeks to build. But it should be done before you have to go back to school in the fall. How's that sound?"
A conniving look slid over the kid's face. "Can we play withpartof it on Monday?"
His mother said, "Noah," warningly, but Tiffany gave a small wave of her hand, indicating she had this. She crouched so she was looking up at the kid, keeping her expression serious.
"You can't, no. This equipment looks cool, and I'm not gonna lie, itiscool, but while it's around, you kids can't play in the playground even when it looks like some of it's done. You see what happened to the gazebo when one of my crew lost control just for a minute. Imagine if someone who didn't know what they were doing with this equipment started messing with it. People could get really, really hurt. That's why we have all this safety fencing up, and why it's locked off at night. That, and it takes time for the concrete to cure, so even when you look at some of the playground and it seems finished, it might not be yet."
Noah's jaw dropped. "Concrete can getsick?"
Tiffany blinked, taking a moment to review what she'd said that might have given Noah that idea. "Oh! Cured! Hah! No, but that's a good interpretation. No, when concrete is setting, when it's drying? That's called curing. There's a bunch of science about how to do it right, so it becomes as strong as it can be. I think that's why it's called curing." She straightened and put a hand on the boy's shoulder for a moment.
"Whoa." Noah gazed up at her in admiration. "Whoa, that's cool. That makes sense, 'cause you're getting better and stronger when you're being cured! Mom! Did you hear that? That's cool! I'm gonna be Captain Concrete!" Without further ado, he spunand ran off, flexing his arms and yelling, "Fear me, for I am CURED!"
Tiffany, a bit wide-eyed herself, turned her attention to Mabs, who was watching her child run around the square with the expression of a parent who had been dealing with this for a long, long time. "I know," she said to Tiffany's silence. "He's a lot."
"Did he really spearhead the fundraising for this playground? Like, I put a bid in on it, obviously. Iknowhow much it's gonna cost to build."
Mabs transferred a rueful smile to her. "I'm firmly convinced he's either going to rule the world or destroy it. I'm trying to point his enthusiasm in the right direction."
"You seem to be doing a pretty good job!"
"I'm trying." Mabs went off after her son, leaving Tiffany to shake her head in admiration.
Ollie, who had been nearby, sidled closer. "Did I hear that right? That eight year old ran a fundraiser for a new playground?"
"I mean, having talked to him for three minutes, I believe it. I think he might be the dictionary definition of 'a force of nature.' I cannot imagine."
"Parenting him, or in general?" That was a hard question to ask casually of somebody you barely knew. Ollie almost pulled it off, and Tiffany gave him a quick, amused glance for the effort.
"Him in specific. I'm sure I'd be a great parent to a calm, polite kid who liked to play with dump trucks."
Ollie hesitated. "Were you a calm polite child?"
Tiffany laughed. "I wasn't. I really wasn't. You?"
"I'm afraid not. My chill was hard-won."
"Well." Tiffany glanced after Noah again. "To be fair, it'd probably be easier to parent a firecracker of a kid if you hadexperience being one yourself. You might know what not to do, right? Maybe someday. With the right guy."
