“It’s supposed to be even hotter tomorrow,” she said.
“Not a good zoo day, then,” I said. “Better to keep them here where we at least have fans.”
“And I can keep an eye on them and Eric while you take care of Caroline,” she said.
“Just one question.” I pointed to the next item on the call list. “Precisely what is Molly in Chains?”
She peered at the paper for a second.
“Oh, that. New group from the college. They do Morris dancing in red stiletto heels and skintight black-leather bodysuits decorated with a lot of chains and spikes.”
“Well, that should be unique,” I said. “But do we really want them doing it at two p.m.?”
“No, probably not,” she said, with a sigh. “I suspect they actually requested two a.m., but that’s not happening. Don’t worry. We’ve got that heavy metal band on at nine. I’ll put the Morris dancers on just before them. Anyone who’s staying for heavy metal can probably handle the Mollies.”
“One quick question—they don’t take the black leather off, do they?”
“I hardly think so,” she said. “If the photos on their Web site are anything to go by, their costumes are probably sewed or glued on and I wouldn’t be surprised if it takes them at least an hour to pry themselves out.”
“Just checking.”
Right outside the tent was a small roped-off area we called the outdoor green room—really just a place for anyone on duty at the tent who wanted to see one of the shows. Eric and the boys were there. He and Josh were watching the students take their bows and clapping with great enthusiasm. Jamie was fast asleep nearby in the Pack ’n Play.
“Got a future historian here,” Eric said. “Josh loved the whole thing.”
“He just likes noise,” I said, as Josh scrambled to stand on my lap.
“So what’s next?” Eric asked.
“Couple of jugglers, and then the New Life Baptist Choir,” I said.
“They should love the jugglers,” Eric said. “But what about the choir?” From his expression, I gathered he was hoping I’d say no.
“They’d love it,” I said. “Josh would dance to the fast numbers, and Jamie would sing along with the whole concert—except there’s no way they should stay up that late. In fact, we should probably take them home and put them to bed now—it’ll be their bedtime by the time we get them there.”
“Yeah, I figured as much.” From his tone, I gathered he was beginning to feel like a child care expert. Then he looked around and dropped his voice. “You don’t need to drive me unless you want to. Uncle Rob just e-mailed. He’s on his way. He’s helping Horace over. He wanted to know if I could pick up some food, and then he could take me and the boys back to your house.”
“Going to play-test his new game?”
“After we put the boys to bed,” Eric said, putting on what he probably assumed was a diligent, responsible look. And then his expression changed to sheepish. “If I can stay awake for it. Not even six and I’m yawning. Remind me to apologize to Nat. I’ve been giving her a hard time all summer about having such a cushy job. This is work!”
I couldn’t hide my smile.
“If you like, I can pick up the food,” I said. “What did Rob say he wanted?”
“He said a church smorgasbord, whatever that is. I figured I’d ask you where to get it.”
“He means a little bit of everything,” I said. “Let’s watch the juggling, and then I’ll fetch the food after that.”
Both boys adored the juggling. In fact, all three boys. I foresaw a plague of flying objects around the house for the next few days, unless something even more exciting drove juggling out of their minds.
I used my cell phone to take a picture of them tossing about twigs, acorns, and bits of gravel and e-mailed it to all three grandparents. Then I went to fetch provisions.
A quick visit to the church tents produced enough food to satisfy even Rob and Eric. And to my delight, the Episcopal tent had implemented one of Mother’s suggestions, and I bought a chicken Caesar salad for myself.
On my way back to the tent, I spotted an addition to the town square: the Flying Monkeys’ new headquarters. They’d erected a twelve-foot-square olive-green tent in one of the few empty spaces along the town hall side of the square—a space everyone else had left empty so the tour guides would have plenty of space to rally their parties. The sides of the tent were rolled up to take advantage of any stray breeze, and from the number of black chests, army green footlockers, and other bits of gear that filled the tent, I assumed they were planning on a prolonged stay. Well, better there than in our courthouse. A uniformed Flying Monkey stood at parade rest at the front entrance, while inside we could see Lieutenant Wilt seated at a portable desk, reading papers with a self-important look on his face.