Season of Change(37)
“I’m Mayor Finkelstein.”
Oh, jeez. She’d heard stories about Mayor Larry. He was a die-hard hippy. But naked yoga in public? Did her grandmother know?
Christine took a tentative step away from further embarrassment. Wouldn’t do to bolt when the mayor had her in his sights. “Nice to meet you.”
“I’m digging your yoga pants. Are they for show or do you like yoga?”
“I do some yoga.” With her clothes on.
“You can come down and join me anytime.”
“Thanks, I’ll think about it.” Not.
“Oh.” He chuckled. “I’d forgotten I was airing my laundry.”
Not exactly the words Christine would have used. A few more steps and he wouldn’t be able to see her anymore.
“Come down tomorrow morning at seven. I promise to bring my yoga shorts.”
“I’ll have to check my schedule. Have a good day.” She glanced over her shoulder to make sure he couldn’t see her before she raced out of the park. Halfway down Main Street she started laughing and didn’t stop until she burst into Nana’s house.
“Whatever is the matter?” Nana glanced up from her coffee and newspaper spread across the kitchen table.
“Mayor Larry.”
She didn’t have to say more. Agnes sighed. “I should have called to let him know you liked to walk in the morning. He loves to commune with nature. We all stay away from that part of the river during his regular hour. He’ll be dressed for a few weeks, at least.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“He won’t put his clothes on unless he feels he’s made someone uncomfortable. But the clothes never stay on for long. And he does have a nice body.”
“Madam Councilwoman! Did you peek?”
“I did no such thing.” She folded her newspaper and tried to give Christine a playful swat with it, but her arms were too short to reach.
“You did!” Christine danced out of the way just in case. “I knew this town couldn’t be that boring.”
“You mean you thought I was boring,” her grandmother grumbled.
Christine came back and pressed a kiss to her grandmother’s soft cheek. “I’m beginning to think no one in Harmony Valley is boring.”
CHAPTER SIX
“I HATE CHICKENS.” At least, he hated live ones that raced away every time he tried herding them back into their repaired coop. Slade chased a blue speckled hen around Roxie Knight’s large backyard.
“You’ve exhausted my hens.” Roxie’s voice was soprano smooth and belonged to a woman twice her petite size. She’d complimented the twins on their overalls, which was fitting, since the older woman wore a pair of blue coveralls the likes of which you’d find in a mechanic’s garage. “I won’t get any eggs out of them for a week.”
A spreading oak tree shaded the chicken coop near the back of the yard. A strip of grass grew down in the middle, flanked on either side by a lush vegetable garden. The chickens were experts at darting in between snap-pea tepees and pepper trellises.