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Gio bounced up and down as we made our way to the Big Foot Museum. He’d been talking about our visit for days now, and couldn’t wait to get inside and see Steve, the owner. Quinn held his one hand, and I held the other.
“Fling me!” Gio exclaimed and continued bouncing on his feet.
“Quinn isn’t as tall as your uncles, so we can’t.” Laurent and Rhone were Gio’s favorites to take on the task, since they had the height and strength to propel him to the moon.
“It’s okay, Quinn. I’m short, too,” he said, and I laughed. Quinn wasn’t all that short. She had at least three inches on my sister, Sherry, and if I had to guess, had to be at least five-six.
“We’re not short, we’re fun-sized,” Quinn said, and Gio laughed.
“Like the candy bars.”
“Exactly.”
As we closed in on the entrance, we let go of Gio’s hands. He ran into the museum and didn’t bother holding the door. I’d have to talk to him about common courtesy later.
Quinn reached for the door, but I hurried in front of her and held it open for her.
“Thank you,” she said. “Apparently chivalry is not dead.”
“My parents raised a gentleman, and that means always getting the door for a woman or the elderly. I clearly have to teach my son the same manners.”
“He’s young. He’ll learn. Give him time.” Quinn smiled, and I swore it was brighter than the sun that shone above us. She stepped into the museum, and I followed. Gio was already talking poor Steve’s ear off, but he didn’t seem to care. He was happy when people stopped by his museum to see his life’s work in finding Big Foot.
“Hi, Steve,” I said as we approached the counter that sat to the left and in front of the long row of memorabilia behind him. A large furry Big Foot stood to the right, its hand lifted as if in greeting. A sign hung from his neck with a list of admission pricing. Kids were only five dollars and adults ten. Groups of five got a twenty percent discount.
Surprisingly, we weren’t the only ones in here. Then again, this museum had grown to become a tourist hotspot. People loved to visit the oddity and post about it on their social media accounts.
I handed Steve thirty bucks and told him to keep the change.
“All right,” he said. “Thanks. Now I know you have been here before.” He pointed his finger at Gio. “But I don’t think I’ve seen you before.” His attention turned to Quinn.
“This is my first time. I’m new to town.”
“Another ginger. Not many of us around these parts. Welcome to Vine Valley,” Steve said.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, and Gio has been telling me all about your museum.”
Steve motioned like he was revealing a treasure. “This is my pride and joy, and all started in 1988. Picture it. Walking in the woods, the smell of oak and pine permeating the air. I was a boy, no older than ten.”
It was hard to picture Steve as anything other than the giant of a man with a bald head and a scruffy reddish-blond beard.
“I was walking, minding my own business, when I stumbled upon a ginormous footprint. It wasn’t human. But it wasn’t a mountain lion or a bear either. No, this footprint was massive and unlike anything I’d ever seen. I knew it was Big Foot. Right here in the Pocono Mountains.”
“Wow,” Quinn said. “That is quite a story. Do you still go out searching for him?” she asked, and she genuinely sounded interested.
Steve’s chest puffed out and a prideful glint shone in his eyes. “Once a month I host hunts, but other than that single footprint all those years ago, there have been no signs of my furry friend. I think he was passing through. But I’m hopeful he’ll make his way here again, and when he does, I’ll be ready.”
“A hunt sounds fun,” Quinn said.
“It does?” Steve and I both said at the same time. Steve’s jaw held wide, and I did a double take at Quinn.
“It does. When is the next one?”
Steve fumbled behind the counter, knocking over a cup of pens. I bit my cheek to keep from laughing. “Here it is.” He handed Quinn a bright orange flyer. “All the information is on there.”
“Thanks.” She folded the paper in fours before placing it in her bag.
“I hope to see you there.”
