Searching for Silverheels by Jeannie Mobley

purposeful steps, wearing a straw hat festooned with red, white, and blue ribbons and carrying a clipboard. George held the door for her, then stepped into the café behind her, looking as good as ever. His eyes danced around the crowd for a moment before alighting on Imogene and me. Then, with a dazzling smile, he winked at me.
    â€œMercy me!” Imogene said under her breath. I smiled back at George and hoped he couldn’t hear my heart racing from across the room.
    Mrs. Crawford’s eyes also landed on me, but without any warmth. “Where is your mother, Pearl?” she demanded, as if I had misplaced her.
    â€œUm—in the kitchen,” I said, still reeling from George’s wink.
    â€œWell, go get her. You can fill the orders. We need her.”
    â€œYes, ma’am,” I said politely. I didn’t see what right she had to boss me or my mother around in our own café, but I did as I was told.
    â€œMrs. Crawford is having a meeting for the Fourth of July picnic out front, and she wants you,” I told Mother.
    â€œRight now?” she said. She was rolling out pie crusts, getting ready for the lunch business that we relied on to make a living. “I’ve got to get these in the oven first. You go, Pearl. Tell her I’ll be out when I can. Tell her I’ll do whatever she needs.”
    I went back to the front room and relayed my mother’s message.
    â€œThe rest of us are here, Phoebe, and we don’t have all day. Let’s get on with it,” said Mrs. Sorensen.
    Mrs. Crawford stiffened her back in displeasure, but she started the meeting.
    â€œVery well. I’ve called you all together to plan the Fourth of July picnic. It’s only two weeks away, you know. We need to get busy.”
    â€œBusy with what?” asked Mrs. Johnson. “We always have it in Larsen’s Meadow, and it’s never taken any planning before. We all just show up.”
    â€œBut this year we have the war and our boys over there to consider. In honor of them, we are going to make this the most stirring patriotic event in Park County. This year we will be raising money for the war effort,” Mrs. Crawford continued. “As you know, we are selling Liberty Bonds at our store. We’ve just received them. And Scotty Merino’s store down in Fairplay has challenged all the stores in Park County to see who can sell out first. I shouldn’t need to tell you that Mr. Crawford and I have taken that challenge. I think Como can outshine Fairplay any day of the week!”
    There were some murmurs of approval and scattered applause. Then Mrs. Johnson asked, “What do Liberty Bonds have to do with the picnic?”
    â€œGood question, Harriet. I know most of you will contribute, but there are some ne’er-do-wells in the county who won’t, and folks who don’t get to town very often. They will all be at the picnic. I propose we make the picnic a big fair.We will set up booths, and all the proceeds will go toward our Liberty Bond drive. Subscriptions are fifty dollars.”
    â€œFifty dollars!” said Mrs. Abernathy. “No one around here has fifty dollars to spare.”
    â€œExactly,” said Mrs. Crawford. “But it’s a subscription—you don’t pay it all at once. If everyone who runs a booth puts her proceeds toward her initial payment, you will have that much less to pay in the remaining months. You have till January to pay in full. George, here, will keep track of how much everyone has paid toward their goal. If we put our backs into it, ladies, we can make enough money at the picnic to pay it out much sooner. I’m sure everyone will have good ideas about how we can do that. To begin, I think we should have a bake sale. Pearl, your mother can bring pies. Say, a dozen?”
    A dozen pies sounded like a lot, but my mother had told me she’d do whatever Mrs. Crawford wanted, so I nodded my head. Mrs. Crawford