Page 41 of Dear Henry, Love Edith
“Hear that, James? He’s getting feral. Arrest him.”
“Come on, Peg,” James said. “It’s the Fourth of July festival. We’re all here to have a good time. Let’s not make a mountain out of a molehill.”
“Do you see a mountain, James? Because I don’t see a mountain. I don’t even see a molehill. All I see is a piece of contamination soiling my community’s beautiful town square.” She propped both her fists on her waist. “And then there’s the matter of the pop can on the ground.”
Steve pushed away from the park bench. “Now look here, ya old lady—”
“Hey—” James lifted a palm to Steve’s chest. “I don’t want to hear you finish that sentence with anything other than ‘It was nice meeting you.’ Then I suggest you pick up the can, throw it away, and go about your business.”
“That’s it?” Peg’s red- and blue-starred bracelets jangled up and down her forearms. “You’re not going to fine him?”
“Peg, you know that’s too much paperwork for me to do over one little soda can,” James replied.
“Soda can? I’m talking about the defamation of my character. He called me old.”
“Both of you—” James stepped between them again with his palms up—“leave. Now.” He aimed a finger at Steve. “After you throw away the soda can.”
Steve grabbed the crumpled can and slammed it into a blue trash receptacle. “Stupid Barney Fife cop,” he muttered, storming off in one direction as Peg stormed—albeit much slower—the opposite direction muttering her own opinions about the situation.
“Should’ve gotten at least five years in the slammer.”
It wasn’t hard to keep tabs on Steve after he left the flea market. All Henry had to do was follow the trail of offended faces Steve left in his wake. “Where’s the library? Tell me. Now.”
“It’s closed for the Fourth of July,” five people told him—much to Henry’s amusement—before Steve must have figured out he needed a different approach. Something with less barking perhaps.
“Excuse me,” Steve said to a young woman pushing a stroller. Henry didn’t recognize her. She could be visiting relatives in town, here for the festivities. “I’m looking for the medical tent.”
She shrugged. “Sorry, I don’t know where—”
“The car show then,” Steve cut in, his raised tone suggesting he was already losing patience. “Do you know that? Does anybody in this town know anything?”
“I saw a bunch of cars a couple of blocks over.”
“Wonderful.” Steve shoved past her and kept walking—staggering? Henry wasn’t sure what to call Steve’s current mode of transportation. But somehow, even with all the teetering, it carried him two blocks farther to where rows of classic cars lined both sides of Main Street.
Any other time, Henry would have admired the collection. Right now all Henry admired was the way Steve managed to see everything in the world but the banner at the end of the road that readMedical Tentin giant bold letters.
“Can either of you tell me where to find the medical tent?” Steve said to a couple of old-timers peering inside a 1950s Porsche. One was short and squat, the other tall and slender.
Henry found a shady spot beneath one of the store awnings and leaned against the brick building, almost feeling sorry for Steve. The guy couldn’t have found two people less likely to give him a straight answer. They were Westshire’s very own Abbott and Costello. Now that Henry thought about it, he wasn’t sure anybody called them by their real names anymore.
They must not have heard Steve over their whistling sounds of admiration for the Porsche. “Yes siree. That is a cherry. An absolute cherry,” the shorter of the two, Costello, said. “I tell you it could make a man’s heart nearly stop.”
“You can say that again,” Abbott replied.
“I tell you it could make a man’s heart nearly stop.”
“Saw that one coming.”
“Hey—” Steve raised his voice, finally getting their attention—“I need you to point me to the medical tent.”
“See, what did I tell you?” Costello elbowed Abbott in the ribs. “He feels the same way.”
“As he should.” Abbott pointed to the car. “Did you know this is the same model James Dean was driving when he crashed and died?”
“Oh, that was heartbreaking.” Costello removed his green John Deere hat and covered his heart. “I’ll never forget what a tragedy that was. Such a beautiful car.”
Abbott groaned. He wasn’t the only one. Though Steve’s groan held more of a growl. “The medical tent?”
