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I chuckle softly. Red, like most of the people in this town, is a gossip. Mainly harmless. But everyone knows that if you want the news in town you don’t need to read the newspaper. Sure, some of the tales are embellished, but there is generally a core of truth to them.
“And the Farrell’s are hosting the fireworks this year on their farm again.”
“You say that as if they don’t host them on their farm every year, Red.”
He sighs. “I know, but I thought that it would be nice if you actually came this year. People have noticed that you never show up. And you know how people can talk.”
I raise an eyebrow, and he laughs. “Anyway, I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Right around that time I’m getting the truck fixed up. Long overdue honestly. They’re going to dig deep into that engine and make her shine like the day she came off that factory belt.”
Red loves his truck. Everyone knows that. But it’s seen better days. “That’s great, Red. But what’s that got to do with me?”
“I just thought you might be able to give an old man a ride over there if you were heading that way.”
I tilt my head and wait. That’s not what Red is really asking. He has closer friends that he would ask if that were the case.
His face lights up like he just thought of something. “Oh, and my granddaughter will be here visiting too, if you don’t mind giving her a ride as well.” The grin on his face is like the goddamn Cheshire Cat. As if I don’t know exactly what he’s doing. What everyone in this town is trying to do.
I take a breath and stifle a sigh. Still, annoying or not, Red trying to set me up with his granddaughter isn’t enough of a reason for me not to be neighborly. “Sure,” I say. “I’ll happily give you guys a ride. But I have to get back to work now.”
“Sure thing.” He claps me on the shoulder. “Thanks, Casey. I owe you one!”
Darlene and Jemma watch me mournfully as I get into my truck, hoping for more treats. But I have to leave them wanting more or they actually will be spoiled in no time.
The fireworks. I do sigh this time. I haven’t been to the fireworks in years. Officially called the Farrell Farms Fireworks, but everyone shortened it. There isn’t anything else that it can be. And it has been a Christmas tradition in this town since before I was born. Long before.
Growing up it had been one of my favorite nights of the entire year. In some ways it was even better than Christmas Day. The whole town came together for a holiday carnival that got more and more extravagant over the years. Party games with all your friends, hayrides, the most amazing buffet of food you could possibly imagine, and then, after dark, a fireworks show that rivaled the ones in the big cities.
People come from everywhere for Firework Night. More than half the town’s budget goes to putting on the whole affair, though no one can say that the Farrells don’t contribute a significant amount of money and time as well. As well as their property.
It’s evolved as I’ve grown. When I was a kid, it was wilder and freer, and now it is nearly a city that pops up overnight. Local vendors and craftsmen. Specialty food booths outside the buffet. Carnival games. Elgin usually makes back what they spend and more on the night.
The Farrell’s farm is a mum farm. The hundreds of gorgeous flowers are raised in pots and completely sold out by the end of October. So not only is the field empty, it’s flat, and little work has to be put into it. Plus, no one cares if there are a few broken bottles or if someone’s car gets stuck in the mud. There is always plenty of time to get that sorted before the new planting season comes around.
The grounds are surrounded by woods on all sides. In the summertime, they are lush with berries and animals, but in the winter, though they are bare, they are still thick enough to get lost in. I’ve gotten lost in those woods once with a girl.
I try to fend off the memory, but it comes on me anyway. Breathless and hot, the two of us panting under the stars and the flashing colors of exploding light over our heads. I thought we had a chance at forever, but she only wanted a fling before she left for college.
She used me well—that night is still bright and perfect in my mind—but she didn’t speak to me again for the rest of our senior year. Or ever. She left Elgin and never came back. Moved to Chicago and married a fancy lawyer. Somebody I could never compete with. I don’t like to remember Carley, but everyone made sure I knew that she’d married that lawyer. I’m not sure why. Maybe it was just that classic Elgin gossip, but I heard the story from damned near everyone.
