Upstate Uproar (13 page)

The woman was very happy and wrapped the
journals in tissue paper, then bound them with string. She gave
Vivian a card. “I’m online, have affordable shipping and take
PayPal,” she proclaimed.

“Thanks, I’ll spread the word,” Vivian said,
then went to find the cocoa booth. She walked past a small stage
and heard Wendy and Kate before she saw them. The sound of laughter
steered her to the next row.

“You have to try this one,” Wendy said to
Kate. “It’s got a kick, but it’s fantastic.” Wendy poured Kate a
tester into a small paper cup from a push-button thermos.

Kate took a sip. “Wow, that is good.”

A handsome older gentleman behind the table
spoke up. “That’s my cayenne cinnamon mix. It’s a best-seller.”

“I’ll take two bags,” Wendy said. “It’s
delicious and I like things spicy!”

“I think I need a bag as well,” Kate said.
“And maybe a pack of Rolaids for later.”

The man handed Vivian her own cup and told
her to enjoy the flavors.

She had a few sips, then pulled her scarf off
and stuffed it into her purse. “This is delicious, but it’s making
me sweat.”

The cocoa guy looked at the three girls.
“You’re a little overdressed for the weather.”

Vivian polished off the last swig and pulled
off her jacket. “You’re right, but I’ll take a bag of peppermint
chocolate, cayenne cinnamon and milk chocolate. Group gifts for my
kids.”

At that point, other booth owners began to
beckon the girls over. “It’s my turn,” several of them said as the
girls walked around with their goodies.

Vivian noticed a “Pumpkin Drop” poster on the
wall with a big orange arrow pointing to a door. “This sounds
promising,” she said, and she went through it.

The girls emerged at the front of the
community center, near the road. The tall, beautiful distracting
orange tree was right in front of them.

A short man with glasses and a receding
hairline called to them. “Come on over and pick out your pumpkin.
The big drop starts in 15 minutes.” Behind him, stacks of hay bales
lined with pumpkins of all sizes were placed here and there.

“How’s it work?” Wendy asked.

“You buy the winning pumpkin right here for
entry into the drop.” The short man stood proudly, arm outstretched
showing off his pumpkins. “Our local firemen will load them in the
cherry picker and drop them overboard, one by one. The pumpkin with
the best splatter wins. Our distinguished panel of judges includes
the fine mayor of Lake Placid Village.”

Vivian’s attention had been caught at the
word ‘fireman,’ but her competitive streaked took over. “I’m in.
Let’s pick a pumpkin, y’all.”

The girls browsed the hay bales and chose a
fairly symmetrical pumpkin a little bigger than a basketball. Kate
had a theory that the symmetry would increase the chances of an
ultimate splatter. Vivian paid the $8, which included the entry
fee, and the pumpkin peddler stuck a round sticker with the number
17 on their pumpkin.

“Thank you for your entry. Just take it over
to the picker.” He stuck the cash in a box and turned to the next
customer.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a marker, would
you?” Vivian asked.

“Sure.” He dug into his apron and produced
one.

Vivian used it to write “Getaway Girlz” loud
and proud on their pumpkin, then returned the marker. She turned to
Kate and Wendy. “Now let’s go find the firemen! Maybe Larson will
be here.”

Wendy picked up their pumpkin, and they
walked toward the people gathered near a roped-off area. “This must
be the place,” she said. She excused herself as she made her way
through the crowd to the drop-off spot, Vivian and Kate in her
wake.

Two men, one gray-headed with a buzz cut and
the other a twenty-something redhead with a rookie look and crooked
smile, greeted them.

“Good day,” Buzz said. “I see you’ve picked a
fine pumpkin that is about to be smushed to mush.”

“Yes, we have,” Wendy said and handed it
over.

Vivian stepped up. “Is Larson here?”

“Sure is. He’s our picker operator,” Rookie
replied. “He went inside to get something, but he’ll be right
back.”

“Oh yay!” Vivian said.

“You need to get back behind the ropes,” Buzz
said. “We’re going to be heading up soon.”

The girls did as instructed and found an open
spot to the left of the crowd along the rope.

Vivian clapped, getting excited. “I hope we
win!”

“What’s the prize?” Kate asked.

“Beats me!” Vivian squealed. “But whatever it
is, I want it!”

Larson came around the corner carrying a
bottle of water. His T-shirt hugged his chest perfectly and had an
image of a potato talking to a packet of French fries. It read, “Oh
no! Is that you, bro?”

Vivian laughed out loud and hollered to him.
He recognized them and jogged over. “I should have known you’d be
here. And by the looks of it, you’re making the locals happy.”

Vivian held up her purchases. “Doing our part
to help the local economy.”

“Did you enter the contest?” he asked.

“We sure did,” Wendy said. “Our pumpkin says
‘Getaway Girlz.’ Make sure she gets a big splat!”

A sharp whistle came from the direction of
the other two firefighters. Buzz waved Larson over.

“Guess I need to go fire up the cherry
picker. I’ll pick you up tomorrow on the Turlington Farm’s dock at
2. Good luck with your splat!” With that, he jogged over to the
bright red picker.

Anticipation rose as the picker began to lift
into the air. A lot of folks had their phones ready to take
pictures, Kate included. A tall, confident, athletic woman with
cocoa-caramel skin and short, natural twists lifted the rope that
separated the crowd from the pumpkin-dropping zone. She wore a
messenger bag across her chest and snapped pictures of the crowd,
then turned her Canon toward the announcer, a balding, pudgy man
holding a megaphone. He pulled the trigger and it chirped to
life.

“Hello, Lake Placid pumpkin people, and
welcome to the sixth annual pumpkin-dropping contest sponsored by
your local Chamber of Commerce! We’re happy to have you here! Our
favorite firemen have loaded up the picker and are prepared to plop
some pumpkins! Are you?”

The crowd cheered.

The man introduced the judges, including the
mayor, then laid down the rules. “All pumpkins will be dropped from
the same height by our fantastic fire department representatives in
the sky. Judges will rule on which has the biggest, loudest and
best splat.”

The crowd cheered again.

The announcer got the thumbs up from Buzz,
who was poised against the rail of the cherry picker with a large
pumpkin. He squeezed the button on the megaphone and yelled, “Let’s
get pumpkin dropping!”

P
umpkins were
splattering left and right as the girls waited for their number to
come up. Firemen were poised on the cherry picker platform being
manned by Larson, who kept one eye on Vivian and the other on the
controls. The firemen, suspended 25 feet in the air, dropped
pumpkin after pumpkin, and the Lake Placid crowd roared approval
with every annihilation.

About 15 minutes into the festivities, the
mayor announced the Getaway Girlz pumpkin. Kate was poised with her
phone, taking video of the great pumpkin drop. The crowd counted
down — three, two, one, pumpkin overboard!

The semi-symmetrical pumpkin hovered for a
moment in the fireman’s hands. Three seconds later a flash of
orange clunked with a thud onto the pavement. The pumpkin cracked
open and the guts spilled out, but there wasn’t much splashage. The
crowd clapped politely, but everyone knew it wasn’t the winner.

“Our pumpkin sucked!” Vivian yelled. “We need
our money back!”

“Maybe they have a consolation pumpkin
prize,” Kate said. “But yeah, that drop was a definite dud.”

Larson looked at Vivian and gave her a thumbs
down. She nodded but couldn’t help but smile to herself. She’d
noticed him glancing in her direction.
Suck in your tummy and
try to look fantastic!
That fireman may need to put out some
female flames!

The next pumpkin went overboard and smack,
pieces flew everywhere. People on the front row of the spectator
area got chunks thrown their way. Vivian watched as people pulled
pumpkin parts off of their pants and shoes.

“Now THAT was a splat!” she yelled.

“Damn straight,” Wendy agreed.

Soon after, all the pumpkins had been
pummeled and the judges came forward to announce the winner. To no
one’s surprise, it was the spectator-splashing pumpkin. A skinny
kid about 12 years old ran forward to collect his prize. He grinned
from ear to ear and threw his arms over his head in victory.

“I saw that kid and his pumpkin,” Wendy said.
“He carved a small hole in it. I guess he knew the trick.”

“Not his first pumpkin drop, I suppose,”
Vivian said, giving him the stink eye as the reporter took his
picture.

Kate pondered this for a moment. “I guess
letting air into the pumpkin gives it more explosiveness. Makes
sense.”

“Come on, I want to go to a few more booths,”
Wendy said. “I saw Christmas crafts I need to check out, find a
gift for my stepmom.”

The girls went back inside and toodled
around, perusing the items on display. Vivian wandered to a booth
filled with paintings and drawings. A thin guy, probably in his
late 30s with dark, stubbly hair, sat on a stool sketching in a
book. After a minute or two he looked up.

“I see you’ve been busy shopping,” he said
with a smirk.

“Hello.” Vivian smiled and held up her bags.
“Just a few things.”

He sat the sketchbook on a table that
displayed three paintings on easels. His brilliant blue eyes were
piercing and a stark contrast to the dark clothes he wore. Head to
toe, from his turtleneck to his Doc Martens, every inch of his
outfit was black.

Vivian stopped in front of a charcoal drawing
of a dragon. Wings spread and breathing fire, its claws grasping at
rocks on a cliff, it looked ready to turn her into ash. “You’re the
artist?”

“I am.” He stood and stuck out his hand.
“Mike Grimm.”

“Vivian Taylor.” She shook his hand and
looked at the various pieces. “You’re very talented.”

He smiled and shrugged. “Thanks.”

“My son loves dragons, but he’s pretty young
and yours might scare him.” She smiled. “He’s more into ‘Pete’s
Dragon’ or ‘Dragon Tales’ on PBS.”

The artist nodded and cracked a sideways
grin. “Yeah, these are a little darker than Disney allows. I have
more pieces at my studio, some not so scary. How old is your
son?”

“Three,” Vivian said.

“If you’d like to come by the studio, I’d be
happy to have you take a look.” He handed her a business card. “My
number is on here.”

She tucked the card into her purse. “Thanks,
I just may do that.”

Wendy came up behind her. “The newspaper lady
wants to talk to us!”

“What? Why?”

“I didn’t ask. Come on!”

Vivian turned to Mike. “Thanks again.”

He sat back down on his stool and nodded.
“See you around.”

Wendy shuffled her toward the stage where
Kate stood talking to the lady holding the Canon. As Vivian walked
up Kate introduced Nicole Jones, local editor, reporter and
photographer for the
Lake Placid News
.

“They worked hard on that newspaper name,
huh?” Vivian joked.

Nicole laughed. “I think my grandfather was
trying to keep it simple. He helped start the paper years ago.” She
flipped open a small notebook. “So I hear you came all the way from
Texas to smash a pumpkin and support our local economy.”

Vivian laughed and looked down at the bags
slung around her wrists. “You heard right.”

“You didn’t win the pumpkin drop, but I think
you win for traveling the farthest. I wanted to get a picture, if
you don’t mind, and your names. I can’t promise you print, but
you’ll at least make the website.”

“Cool,” Wendy said.

They chatted awhile, told Nicole how they’d
heard about the festival, and showed off their purchases. Kate gave
her a good rundown of the hot chocolate booth and insisted she
visit with her right that instant.

“I need another sample myself,” Kate
said.

The cocoa man was happy for their return and
that Kate brought another potential customer. He doled out the
samples and explanations.

Nicole tried a few, and at Kate’s urging she
bought a bag of cocoa.

“You sure you don’t want two?” the cocoa man
asked.

“I’m on a reporter’s salary, so although I
want two, I can’t afford it.” Nicole handed him the cash and
thanked him. She stuffed the purchase in her messenger bag and
pulled out her pen and notebook again. Back to business.

She took notes on where the Texans had come
from, how long they were in town and what they’d been up to during
their visit.

“It’s been an adventure already,” Kate said,
“but it always is.”

“Yeah, finding that jawbone really threw us
for a loop,” Vivian said. “We’ve had some crazy stuff happen on our
vacations, but finding a piece of a dead person, that takes the
cake.”

Nicole looked up from her notepad in
disbelief, unable to speak for a moment. Finally, she shook her
head like she was waking up, eyes wide.

“You’re THOSE girls?”

N
icole Jones, the
editor, reporter and photographer from the
Lake Placid News
,
stood in shock after hearing that Vivian, Kate and Wendy were the
discoverers of the human remains on Haystack Mountain the day
before.

“I’m sorry, I’m not used to being taken by
surprise like that.”

“Neither are we,” Vivian said with a laugh.
“And that was one heck of a surprise.”