Midsummer Madness

Up on the stage, Juliet finished her speech. She left the podium to the accompaniment of approving applause. She sat, feeling as if she floated there, on a folding chair to the left of the podium, while questions were asked of her. She had answers to all of them.

It was incredible.

Melda Cooks asked how Juliet would handle casting the play she’d written. Juliet remembered past years, when they’d had tryouts, and no one had shown up. Or when they’d cast by asking around, and some people had felt left out.

So Juliet said she’d combine the two methods: a day of tryouts, and then any uncast roles would be filled by appealing to the community consciousness of people who might fit the parts. Juliet raised her eyebrows just a fraction when she said “community consciousness,” and everyone chuckled a little. They all knew what she meant; they’d end up begging a few softhearted souls to get involved.

Babe Allen pointedly remarked that Juliet could hardly expect to be paid what they’d agreed to pay the expert from Hollywood. Juliet, prepared for that one, smiled sweetly and answered that she was willing to do the work as a community service—provided the merchants donated the full fee they would have paid to the new community park down at the foot of Commercial Street.

It was so…marvelously simple. And fun. She just used her head, and then explained what she’d figured out, and it made sense. People listened. Amazing. Wonderful.

After they took the vote and elected her, Juliet approached the podium again to murmur a brief thank-you and to ask her committee heads—whom she’d lined up just this afternoon—to confer with her briefly in the lobby after the meeting was over. Then she gathered up her materials and left the stage through the wings, floating out the stage door, and then circling around to wait for the others in the quiet lobby out front.

Within a half hour, all her people were assembled. Jake, who was not only a poet but also worked part-time on the Emerald Gap Bulletin, agreed to get right on the posters and newspaper notice for the revue tryouts, which would be held on Monday evening. Reva Reid, parade committee chairman, would make the rounds tomorrow to firm up the list of all the floats and themes. The frog jump and Race Day chairpeople respectively agreed that they’d have each event fully planned by Tuesday evening, when the pageant committee would meet once again. Andrea Oakleaf volunteered to check with the Pine Grove Park Commission about the permit for the big closing-day picnic. And Burt Pandley promised to find, by next Friday, at least twelve more participants for the Crafts and Industry Fair, which was slated to run upstairs in the town hall the whole ten days of the festival.

It was after nine when Juliet finally left the lobby of the old auditorium. Outside, the night was balmy and moonless, the air very still. She stood for a moment beyond the big entry doors, between a pair of Victorian gas street lamps, and shivered just a little with excitement and triumph. She drew a deep breath and thought she could smell the pines and firs that cloaked the surrounding foothills.

How beautiful Broad Street looked, clothed in night, with its brick-fronted buildings, and the old-fashioned gas lamps all along the street. On the corner diagonally across from her, she could see the lights in the window of Cody’s restaurant.

Now where, she wondered suddenly, had Cody disappeared to? He’d been waiting for her in the front row when she first entered the auditorium tonight. He’d wished her luck and then taken the podium for a moment to explain about the loss of the professional from Hollywood. He’d introduced her and left the stage.

And then she’d forgotten all about him in the excitement—and terror—of getting up and making herself heard.

Juliet grinned. Well, she’d see him soon enough. Between the work she did for him and the fact that she lived on his ranch, they ran into each other almost daily.

It was going to be fun, she decided, to tease him about not believing in her. He’d be a little embarrassed, she knew, and he’d smile that beautiful right-sided smile….

Juliet shivered a little, though the windless, warm night didn’t justify goose bumps. Odd, that she should think about teasing Cody. She wasn’t a teasing type of person, really.

Or she hadn’t been. But now, with what she’d accomplished tonight, Juliet was beginning to think that she could be just about any kind of person she wanted to be.

And if she wanted to tease a friend a little, why shouldn’t she? There was nothing wrong with that….

“Great job, Juliet.”

Juliet jumped, like someone caught thinking naughty thoughts. “Oh.” She gave a guilty giggle. “You surprised me, Jake.”

Flat-nosed Jake’s squashed face wrinkled with amusement. “You surprised all of us, gal. Damn good show.”

“Well, thank you.”

“Thank you,” Jake said. “We can use a real leader around here for once.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Nodding, Jake turned and strolled off down the street toward the ancient green pickup he’d been driving for as long as Juliet could remember.

Juliet stood for a moment more, savoring Jake’s praise, staring at a street she’d known all her life, but which tonight seemed the most beautiful place on earth. And then she turned and headed for McIntyre’s, because she’d parked her car just a few feet beyond the restaurant’s doors.

When she reached her car, Juliet paused once again, as she had outside the auditorium. She gazed fatuously at the automobile. It was a night to feel good about herself, and the car just added to the wonderfulness of it all.

Low, long, and sleek, it was the color of a scarlet flame. The salesman had told her it had eight cylinders, which he had implied was plenty, and which she suspected was probably immoral these days. She certainly felt immoral whenever she bought gas, which was often. It was not a practical car, nor was it precisely new—it had had one owner before her, who’d put quite a few miles on it, actually. But the salesman had assured her that the car was in tip-top condition. And she hadn’t bought it for practical reasons, anyway.

She’d seen it and wanted it, and now it was hers. For Juliet, the car was a symbol, a material representation of the way she was creating a whole new life for herself. So she looked at it awhile, on this special night-of-all-nights, and thought it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever laid eyes on in her life.

Still floating on air from her triumph with the merchants’ association, Juliet shrugged out of the gray jacket that went with her suit. She tossed the jacket and her pageant materials in back and slid beneath the wheel. The car was so low and streamlined that Juliet almost felt as if she were lying down when she settled into the driver’s seat. It was a glorious feeling.

Stretching out, sighing a little, she rolled down the window and unbuttoned the top two buttons of her white cotton blouse. The warm night air came in the window and kissed her throat.

Sensuous, Juliet thought. Downright sensuous, just sitting here.

And then she giggled. Sensuous. What a thought. Especially for plain-Jane Juliet Huddleston, who was getting real close to being considered a spinster by everyone in town.

The warm air played on blushing skin now, as Juliet rather primly reminded herself that everyone had sexy thoughts now and then, even thirty-year-old virgins who probably ought to know better.

But then, why should she know better? A woman who could do what she’d done tonight was no doubt perfectly capable of removing all her clothes and having an intimate experience with a man.

Eventually.

…Given that he was the right man, of course.

As she sat up enough to stick the key in the ignition, Juliet considered what the right man might be like.

He’d be good and kind and funny. A steady man, who, like herself, would never waver in his devotion. An attractive man—but not too attractive. Juliet was a realist, after all. She wanted, when the time came, a man to last a lifetime. And really good-looking men—men like Cody, for instance—were forever being tempted by one woman after another.

Juliet turned the key that she’d stuck in the ignition, and then forgot all about her mental shopping list for the ideal man. Because something strange happened when she turned the key, something totally unexpected: nothing. The car didn’t start.

Juliet checked to see that she was in neutral. She was. She shifted it out and then back into neutral again, just to be sure. Then she turned the key again.

And again, it didn’t start.

So she popped the hood latch and went to look at the engine. Which told her exactly zero. Juliet knew nothing about cars, except how to drive them and where to put the gas.

She did notice, however, that it didn’t look quite so spanking clean under the hood as it had when she’d bought the car three weeks ago. There appeared to be oil leaking out in some places. She thought that strange.

“Got a problem?”

Juliet sighed in relief at the sound of the familiar voice. Cody. As always, when Juliet had a problem, Cody just naturally seemed to appear to help her out.

She removed her head from beneath the hood and shyly smiled at him. “Hi.” Her voice did that funny wimpy thing, between the h and the i, that little hitching sound, but she didn’t let it bother her. She went on, more strongly. “My car won’t start.”

For a minute, he just stood there and looked at her. It was odd. She wondered if she had engine oil on her nose or something. She was just about to ask what was wrong, when he added, as if he thought he should explain, “Saw you from the window.” He gestured in the general direction of his restaurant.

She said, “Oh,” and thought about how she’d leaned back in the seat and unbuttoned her blouse and imagined taking off her clothes for a man. Had he watched her through all that? She felt her face flushing.

Which was ridiculous. Even if Cody had been watching her the whole time—which she was sure he hadn’t—what was wrong with leaning back in the seat and loosening her collar? Nothing. What she had been thinking was her own business. He could know nothing of that.

They kept on looking at each other. She wondered about something she’d never wondered about before: What was Cody thinking?

She opened her mouth, planning to ask him what was on his mind and be done with it, when he seemed to shake himself. He blinked and said, “Want me to have a look?”

She almost asked, “At what?” but then remembered. Her car. He would look at her car.

“Yes. Great. Thanks.”

He stuck his head beneath the hood and fiddled with a few of the wires. He took a few caps off of various doohickies in there.

“Battery’s not dry,” he muttered. “Nothing seems to have come unhooked.” He leaned out toward her where she stood on the sidewalk. “Get in and try it again.”

She did as he’d asked. And once more, nothing happened. He fiddled some more under the hood, she tried starting it once more, but still nothing happened.

After the third try, he said, “Was it giving you trouble before this?”

“No, none at all.”

“Just now, did it turn over at all the first time you tried it?”

She shook her head.

“You got nothing, not even a groaning sound?”

“Not a thing.”

“Then it’s probably not your battery. Maybe it’s just a loose connection, or possibly your starter. Hell, it could be a hundred things.” He took a handkerchief from a pocket and wiped his hands on it. “Tell you what, I’m heading back to the ranch now, anyway. Why don’t you ride home with me? You can call the garage in the morning.”

Juliet, worried about her beloved car, shook her head. “Do you think it’s anything serious?”

“That it won’t start…? Probably not. But these gaskets look shot, and the seals don’t seem to be holding.”

“What does that mean?”

He gave her a look with way too much patience in it to be reassuring. Then he asked, “Where’d you buy this car, Julie?”

“Don’s Hot Deals, outside of Auburn.”

“How much did you pay for it?”

She told him.

He looked pained. “I’ve always thought of you as practical, before this.”

“I know.” She giggled, forgetting altogether that she was not a giggling kind of person. She added, downright pertly, “There are a lot of things about me that aren’t the way they used to be.”

“I noticed.”

He looked at her some more, and she looked back. It was kind of fun, Juliet thought, these long pauses where they just looked at each other. At least, it was fun for her. Looking at Cody McIntyre was a purely pleasurable pastime.

“How much do you owe on it?” he asked eventually.

“The car?”

“Yeah.”

“Not a cent. I paid cash.”

“Hell, Julie.”

Juliet smiled and shrugged. “I wanted it. So I bought it.”

“You still have that little brown car?”

“Nope. I never want to see a brown car again.”

Cody shook his head. “Come on. Let’s not stand here all night. Get your things and let’s go home.”

Juliet got her jacket and the big manila folder and followed Cody to his shiny black pickup in the lot behind McIntyre’s.

They were quiet as Cody pulled out of the lot and headed for the edge of town. But once they’d left the lights of Emerald Gap behind and begun the twenty-minute ride to the McIntyre ranch, Cody had a suggestion. “You can use my spare pickup, if you want, until you get that car fixed.”

She looked over at him, smiling. “You’re so good to me, Cody. You always have been. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

He looked a little embarrassed at that, and spent a few moments paying great attention to the road. Then he said gruffly, “I’ve got to be honest, Julie. I think you bought yourself a world of headaches with that car.”

Juliet sighed. “I love it, anyway. I’ll get it fixed, that’s all.” She was a little worried about the car. But tonight, even the possibility that she’d spent several thousand dollars on a bona fide lemon didn’t daunt her. Nothing could faze her tonight.

Because she, Juliet Huddleston, who’d spent her whole life in the background taking orders rather than giving them, was going to run Midsummer Madness this year! The prospect was terrifying, but exhilarating, as well.

She rolled down the window and let the warm wind blow back her hair. Then she turned to Cody, ready to tease him a little as she’d imagined doing a while before.

“You didn’t stick around to congratulate me.”

He chuckled. “After the meeting, you were occupied in the lobby. I figured I’d see you soon enough, and you could give me a hard time about my lack of faith in you.”

“Why, Cody McIntyre. When in our lives have I ever given you a hard time?”

He threw her a glance. “When have you ever led a festival? Or owned a red car? Or rented your big house in town, to move out in the sticks?”

“It is not the sticks,” she reproved him. “It is the McIntyre ranch, where I have longed to live ever since first grade when your mom gave that pool party the last day of school. And now I do live there.”

He didn’t laugh this time, but there was humor in his voice when he said, “I get it. Living in my guesthouse is the fulfillment of a lifelong dream.”

“Not exactly. Not quite so permanent as a dream. More temporary. Like a fantasy.”

He grunted. “As your landlord, I’m bound to ask, exactly how temporary do you mean?”

“Oh, Cody. Don’t worry. I’ll give a month’s notice before I leave. And it won’t be for a year or two, at least. What I mean is, it’s just something I always wanted to do, not something that lasts a lifetime. That’s all.”

He was quiet for a time, digesting this. Then he said, “So what gives, Julie?”

His serious tone surprised her. She answered in her old way, with that little frightened catch. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“You’re different. You’ve changed. I didn’t really notice it until today, when you suddenly insisted I let you take on the pageant. But it’s been happening for a while, a few months at least. I can see that now, looking back on things.”

She turned in her seat to face him. He gave her a quick, encouraging smile. Then he looked back at the road, which was climbing now, up into the pines, as they grew nearer the ranch. “I’d really like to know, Julie,” he said, this time not glancing over.

“Y-you would?”

He nodded.

She realized she wanted to tell him. Maybe it was that he’d actually asked; no one had asked before. Or maybe her confidence was finally high enough, that after tonight, she wouldn’t need to keep her resolution secret anymore.

But she supposed it didn’t really matter why. What mattered was he’d asked.

As he drove the twisting road to the ranch, she told him everything. About her vow that her next thirty years were going to amount to more than the past thirty had—and about all the steps she’d taken to make that vow come true.

He listened and nodded, and laughed a little when she told about that first time up in front of the group at Toastmasters International, when she’d been so nervous that she’d gestured wildly, knocking over her water glass into her shoes, which then made embarrassing squishing sounds every time she shifted her weight through the rest of her speech.

The miles flew by. She was just telling him how terrified she’d been for those first seconds up on the stage this evening, when the front entrance to the ranch came into sight. It was a high stone wall broken by two widely spaced stone pillars, with an iron M on a rocker in a cast-iron arch across the top.

Beyond the arch, Juliet saw the sloping lawn of the house grounds and a blue corner of the big pool. Kemo, Cody’s dog, stood between the pillars, wagging his tail in a hopeful manner. Juliet waved at the mutt and caught a brief glimpse of the rambling two-story house before they sped past and turned into the small drive that led to the guesthouse next door.

Juliet finished her tale as he pulled up before the little house she rented from him.

“So that’s that,” she told him. “I’m making myself a whole new kind of life, from now on.”

He gave her his beautiful right-sided smile. “And then what happens?”

“When?”

“After Midsummer Madness is over. After you’ve proved beyond a doubt that you’re the most assertive woman around.”

“Well,” she confessed, “I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.” She scooped up her jacket and her manila folder and leaned on the door latch. It gave, and she jumped down. “But I’ll let you know, as soon as I figure it out. If you’re still interested, that is.”

She turned and practically skipped up the stone walk to the small porch of the guesthouse before she realized that in her excitement over all she’d accomplished, she’d forgotten to thank Cody for the lift home.

Conveniently, he hadn’t driven away yet but was still sitting there staring after her, with his engine idling. She rushed back to the driver’s side and leaned in the window.

“Thanks, Cody. Thanks a bunch.” She kissed his cheek—it was warm and a little rough, very pleasant to the lips, actually. And then she whirled and danced back up the walk.

Cody sat and watched her go, bewildered at the change in her. Why, damned if her blouse hadn’t been open two buttons down. He’d got himself the sweetest glimpse of that little shadow between her small, high breasts when she leaned in the window and put her soft lips on his cheek.

He couldn’t figure it. What in the hell was innocent Julie Huddleston doing showing cleavage, making a man think about her in a whole new way?

He had half a mind to call her back and tell her to button up. But she was already bouncing up the steps of the guesthouse, turning once to wave, and disappearing inside.

Cody sat there a few minutes more, deciding that telling her to button up would have been presumptuous anyway. He was glad he hadn’t done it. It would have sounded nothing short of crude—and besides, then she would have known that Cody McIntyre, who had always looked out for her, had just now been looking down her blouse.

Three

Juliet’s only problem that night was getting to sleep. She was just too keyed up to simply close her eyes and drift off. So she lay with the window open and only a sheet for a cover, staring up at the ceiling and enjoying daydreams of her success.

She planned a little, thinking it would be fun to try to get a real professional auctioneer this year to raffle off the baked goods at the big picnic on closing day. And this year, for the frog jump, she was going to see that there were separate categories for out-of-county frogs. Recently, some tourists had been buying some real long jumpers from Sacramento pet stores and running them against the more short-hocked local frogs. It just wasn’t fair.

Smiling into the darkness, Juliet rolled over and tried to settle down. But ideas kept coming. She thought of a better way to arrange the booth spaces for the Crafts and Industry Fair even as she started planning her own costume for the Gold Rush Ball. Maybe she’d go as Maria Elena Roderica Perez Smith, the doomed laundress from local history. Or as one-eyed Charlie Parkhurst, who’d lived her life pretending to be a man. Or maybe Madame Moustache, the lusty bighearted saloon owner of Nevada City fame….

Juliet rolled over again and looked at the clock; it was past midnight. She really ought to get some sleep. Tomorrow was Friday, a regular workday. She had to finish off the payrolls for Duane’s Coffee Shop and Babe Allen’s Gift and Card Emporium, not to mention get a good start on that unit cost analysis for McMulch’s Lumberyard.

From outside, she heard the crow of a rooster who was up way past his bedtime. Juliet grinned. She knew the rooster. The ranch, which was mostly timberland, didn’t support too many animals. Cody kept three horses, Kemo the dog and a cow called Emeline. There were a few chickens pecking around the stables, and one big mean black rooster that Cody swore was destined to be thrown in the pot one day soon. Cody called him Black Bart, and he was the only one ornery enough to stay up making noise all night.

Black Bart crowed again. And as the sound of his crowing faded off into the night, Juliet heard, drifting in the open window, the sweet, high sound of a harmonica.

It was Cody. Playing that silver mouth organ of his in the way that only he knew how, the notes sliding all over the scale, from so high and sweet your heart ached, to those low, sexy notes that vibrated down inside a person in the most stimulating way. Lord, Juliet thought, that boy could make music. No wonder his songs drove the ladies wild.

For a while she just lay there, as she had many a night since she took the guesthouse, her senses gratified and her spirit soothed by the impromptu concert that drifted through the window on the night air.

And then it occurred to her that getting Cody to perform in the Midsummer Madness Revue would be a coup of sorts. Every year they asked him, and every year he very courteously declined. Cody would provide goods and capital to the festival, but he always claimed he was too busy to commit himself to getting up on the stage every single night.

Juliet closed her eyes and hummed along a little, until her own lack of musical talent made her fall silent, so that she could better enjoy the magic spell that Cody could weave with just a song.

Yes, she thought, as he began a new tune, she would definitely ask him. As she’d learned in assertiveness training, nothing was ever lost by asking. If the answer was no, you were in no worse a position than before you asked; if you got a yes, you were one ahead. Besides, maybe Cody would agree to perform if Juliet was the one asking. Maybe he’d do it for the sake of their lifelong friendship—if she caught him in the right mood.

As the second tune ended on a high note, the thought came to her: Why not just go ask him now?

She nodded at the ceiling. Yes, that would be a good approach. To ask him right now, spontaneously, in the middle of the night when neither of them seemed to be able to sleep.