to the town-council meetin’. You want to go into town with me and look for everyone? We could get a bite to eat.”
“Sounds good. Give me a minute to change.”
On the drive into town, Doug asked him, “So are you stayin’ in Valentine after the holidays? You just got out—I know it takes time to make plans and decisions. I just wanted you to know you’ve got a job with us as long as you want.”
Adam glanced at him in surprise. “Thanks. I appreciate it.” But would Brooke want him to stay when he told her he was in love with her?
As they crossed the bridge over Silver Creek, Adam could see the lit-up town hall pointing toward the sky, with the immense Christmas trees like sentinels on each side. “The town-council meeting must be another big one. There are lots of cars parked on the streets. I’m surprised Brooke didn’t mentioned it,” he mused, remembering the meeting he’d attended a couple weeks before.
“Is that a crowd out front?” Doug asked. “I’m going to pull over here.”
The sidewalks were pretty clear of snow as they walked the final block past the Huang house and others. The crowd was getting thicker; Adam heard laughter and cheering, and when that briefly faded, the sound of raised voices in protest.
He and Doug exchanged concerned frowns.
They passed the local-history museum, and someone had a cart out front selling hot chocolate and giant pretzels.
“It’s almost like a street fair in the dead of winter,” Adam said.
They pushed past a few loosely gathered clumps of people, all of whom were laughing and pointing. Then Doug and Adam came to a stop. Dozens of people were marching in a long circle in front of town hall. They were holding signs that read, “Don’t Discriminate Against Women,” and “Women Need Pretty Panties.”
Adam could see everyone he knew, from the widows to Brooke and her best friends, even the Chess Club and its outcasts, Tyler and Steph. He realized they were marching around an aspen tree—with bras hanging from it.
Doug started to laugh.
“What the hell—?” Adam began.
“It’s a bra tree,” Doug said. “Do you ski?”
Bewildered, Adam shook his head.
“Skiers pick a tree beneath a chairlift and people drop things on it through the season, like long beads—and bras. It’s a holdover from the sixties. I’m thinkin’ these bras are for Leather and Lace.”
As Adam watched, openmouthed, Monica used her red lace bra like a slingshot, and it wrapped around a branch with unerring accuracy. The crowd cheered. Then Tyler scrambled up into the tree, pulling a string of lights behind him.
Adam knew the moment Brooke saw him because her sign faltered, and she looked sheepish. Then, with a mutinous pout, she tossed her sign, pulled her arms inside her own coat, and with a wiggle that had the crowd laughing, she pulled out her polka-dotted bra and tossed it up into the tree.
Adam realized there was more than one sturdy old-lady bra up there, too. He saw his grandma next, holding up a sign with ease, no cane in sight. When their gazes met, she looked a bit guilty, but she only held her “I Wear Leather and Lace” sign higher and kept marching.
And then Adam started to laugh, so hard that tears eventually ran down his face. He saw Sandy Thalberg, holding a cane with one hand, and tossing a bra with the other. Mayor Galimi, arms folded across her chest where she stood at the top of the town-hall steps, was obviously trying not to laugh herself, even as her brother droned into her ear, gesturing at the demonstration wildly.
Brooke walked toward Doug and Adam, wearing a grin. “Hi, Dad!”
“Your mother should have told me the demonstration would be so exciting,” Doug said dryly. “I might have changed my mind about comin’.” He walked past them toward Sandy.
Brooke smiled up at Adam. “My part in this plot failed.”
He wiped tears from his eyes, still chuckling. “I don’t know—your bra landed the highest.”
“No, I was supposed to assign you enough work to keep you away, on orders from your grandma.”
“Why?” he asked in disbelief.
She silently pointed. Grandma Palmer was practically doing a two-step in line, smiling and waving as people took pictures. Her coat sagged open, a bold red poinsettia pattern on her vivid green dress.
“So you knew about her robust health, too?” he asked, shaking his head.
She gaped at him. “You knew? I suspected almost from the beginning. I was afraid to tell you, afraid you’d leave