“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 if you knew she didn’t need you. She does need you—you know that, right?”
He focused on her lovely face, the tension she didn’t hide. The cheering crowd seemed to fade away until there was only the two of them. “What makes you think I’m leaving?” he asked softly.
“You came because you thought she was ill,” she said, her expression confused and wary. “Now that you know the truth—”
“I’ve been staying for you, too.”
He saw the way her eyes softened and shone with tears that glittered under Christmas lights. She caught her lip between her teeth.
“Really?” she whispered.
“I’m gonna kiss you right now.” They stepped toward each other, then he grimaced. “Let’s go find your parents first.”
“But—”
He caught her hand and tugged her with him until they found Doug and Sandy standing together. Sandy leaned against her husband like he was all the support she’d ever need.
“Mr. Thalberg—I mean Doug,” Adam began. “I’d like to date your daughter.”
He heard Brooke gasp, but he didn’t let go of her hand.