A Catered Fourth of July Read Free

should be back at the shop making pies.
    â€œIf I see Marvin, I’ll tell him you’ve been asking after him,” Bernie told Rick.
    â€œYou do that,” he said stiffly. Then he turned around and marched off.
    As Bernie watched him go, she decided that like skinny jeans, breeches did not do men any favors, especially men who were fifty pounds overweight. Of course, they weren’t so great on women, either.
    As soon as Rick left, Hilda came out from behind the coolers and poked Bernie’s leg with her snout. She gave Hilda the apple she’d been holding and started opening the cartons she and Libby had packed their supplies in.

Chapter 2
    B ernie had just finished opening up all the cartons when Libby trudged up the steps. She decided her sister looked like a limp dishrag, to use one of her mother’s expressions.
    The outfit Libby was wearing didn’t help matters. Bernie loved her sister but the truth of the matter was that Libby was sartorially challenged. Bernie had offered to lend her one of her light, silk sundresses, but Libby had insisted on wearing her kelly green polo shirt and green plaid Bermuda shorts. Those were both hot and made her look like a marcher in the Saint Patrick’s Day parade. But try telling that to her older sister. Actually, Bernie had tried telling her several times, and her sister had told her to mind her own business. Bernie was just thinking that as a color, kelly green had absolutely nothing to recommend it when her sister started speaking.
    â€œThe jacket is so tight, Marvin can’t even lift his arms up.” Libby grabbed a bottle of water and began chugging it down.
    â€œMust make it hard to aim a musket,” Bernie observed.
    â€œPoor guy. He’s just miserable.”
    â€œSo am I,” Bernie said, not wanting to be left out of the pity party. After all, fair was fair.
    â€œYeah, but Marvin is going to be out there marching around in the heat shooting people. At least, we’re in here where it’s marginally cooler.”
    â€œ Marginally being the operative word,” Bernie told her as a bugle sounded.
    â€œIt looks as if we’re about to begin soon,” Libby observed.
    Bernie put her hand to her breast. “Be still my heart.”
    â€œThere’s no need to be sarcastic.”
    â€œI’m not,” Bernie protested. “I’m genuinely thrilled. The sooner we start, the sooner we can go home.”
    Libby was just about to reply when Jack Devlin, Longely’s modern day answer to Casanova, came bounding up the steps into the gazebo.
    â€œLadies”—he bowed low at the waist—“always a pleasure.” He grabbed Hilda and tucked her under his arm. “Come my little chickadee,” he cooed in Hilda’s ear, “it is time for your performance.”
    Hilda oinked and stopped squirming.
    â€œWe are old friends,” Devlin explained.
    Bernie swore Hilda was batting her eyelashes at him.
    â€œDon’t worry,” he told Bernie and Libby as he scratched Hilda’s back. “I will bring her back unharmed. I treat all my ladies well.” He winked in case they didn’t get it.
    â€œSo I heard,” Bernie replied.
    He grinned. “I’ll be happy to demonstrate anytime. Anytime, anyplace,” he said over his shoulder as he went back down the stairs. “That offer goes for both of you. You name the site and I’ll be there. Reliable Jack, that’s me.”
    â€œNot bad,” Bernie mused as she looked at Jack Devlin’s retreating behind.
    Libby sniffed. “If you like that kind of person.”
    Bernie rolled her eyes. “And what kind of person is that?”
    â€œA sex addict. He’s only interested in one thing.”
    â€œThat’s what I like about him. But for the record, I was talking about his ass, which you have to admit is pretty nice.”
    â€œBrandon wouldn’t like to hear you say