"Anytime," Curly said with a dreamy smile.
A man's silhouette filled the doorway, followed by a gust of oily cologne. "Why, you must be the one and only Leroy Branitt," growled a familiar sarcastic voice.
Curly cringed. Officer Delinko stepped out of the way and said, "This gentleman is from the pancake-house company."
"I figured," said Curly. He held out his right hand to Chuck Muckle, who stared at it as if it were a dead mudfish.
"Please tell me, Mr. Branitt, that you have no bad news that would spoil this lovely tropical morning. Tell me everything's hunky-dory here in Coconut Cove."
"Yessir," Curly said. "We stayed the last two nights on the property, me and the policeman here, and it's been peaceful as a church house. Ain't that right, David?"
"Right-o," Officer Delinko said.
Chuck Muckle whipped off his shades and eyed the patrolman dubiously. "You wouldn't happen to be the same crackerjack lawman who fell asleep in his car while the vandal trashed our survey stakes, would you?"
As curious as Officer Delinko was to see Kimberly Lou Dixon dressed up as Mother Paula, he now wished that he were somewhere far, far away.
"The same genius," Mr. Muckle went on, "whose careless sleep habits resulted in a newspaper article that unfairly smeared the good name and reputation of Mother Paula? Was that you?"
"Yeah, that would be him," Curly said.
Officer Delinko shot the foreman a dirty look before addressing Mr. Muckle. "I'm really sorry about all that, sir," the patrolman said, thinking: Sorrier for me than for you.
"It's rather astounding that you still have a job," Chuck Muckle remarked. "Your police chief must have a charitable heart. Either that or he's desperate for warm bodies."
Curly finally came up with something positive to contribute. "Officer Delinko is the one who helped me catch that burglar the other night!"
It was a shameless exaggeration of Curly's role in the capture of Dana Matherson, and Officer Delinko was about to set the record straight when Kimberly Lou Dixon came rocketing out of the bathroom.
"You've got, like, a major roach situation in there!" she exclaimed.
"They ain't roaches, they're crickets," Curly said. "I don't know where the heck they all came from."
He elbowed his way past Officer Delinko and Chuck Muckle, and introduced himself to the actress. "I'm the supervising engineer on this project, Miss Dixon, and I just want you to know that I seen all your movies."
"All two of them, you mean?" Kimberly Lou Dixon patted his shiny scalp. "That's all right, Mr. Branitt, it's still a darling thing for you to say."
"Hey, I can't wait for your new one, too-Mutant Invaders from Saturn Eleven. I really go for that sci-fi stuff."
"Jupiter Seven!" Chuck Muckle cut in. "It's called Mutant Invaders from Jupiter Seven."
"Whatever," Curly gushed, "you're gonna make a fantastic grasshopper queen."
"Yeah. I'm already writing my Oscar speech." The actress glanced at her diamond-studded wristwatch. "Listen, I'd better hurry up and start turning myself into adorable old Mother Paula. Can one of you sweethearts please fetch my suitcase out of the limo?"
TWENTY
A smaller limousine delivered the Coconut Cove mayor, Councilman Bruce Grandy, and the chamber of commerce president to the construction site. A satellite truck from a Naples television station came next, followed by a newspaper photographer.
City workers tied red, white, and blue streamers to the fence and hung a hand-lettered banner that said WELCOME, MOTHER PAULA.
At ten minutes to noon, Roy and Beatrice arrived; this time she rode the handlebars and he pedaled, the camera stowed safely in his backpack. They were startled to see that they weren't the only ones to show up-the freckle-faced boy, the red-haired girl, and at least half of Mr. Ryan's history class were already there, along with a bunch of parents.
"What in the world'd you say to those kids yesterday?" Beatrice asked. "You promise 'em free flapjacks or somethin'?"
"I just talked about the owls, that's all," Roy said.
He got another pleasant surprise when a van from the Trace Middle School Athletic Department rolled up and Beatrice's soccer teammates piled out, some of them carrying posters.
Roy grinned at Beatrice, who shrugged as if it was no big deal. They scanned the growing crowd but saw no sign of her runaway stepbrother.
There was no sign of the owls, either, which didn't surprise Roy; with so much noise and human commotion, the birds would likely stay underground where it was dark and safe. Roy knew that's what the pancake people were betting on: that the owls would be too frightened to venture out.
At quarter past twelve, the door of the construction trailer swung open. First to emerge was a policeman whom Roy recognized as Officer Delinko; then the bald construction foreman with the rotten temper; then a snooty-looking guy with silver hair and dorky sunglasses.
The last to come out was the woman who played Mother Paula on the TV commercials. She wore a shiny gray wig, wire-rimmed glasses, and a calico apron. A few people clapped in recognition, and she waved halfheartedly.
The group marched to a rectangular clearing that had been roped off in the center of the construction site. A megaphone was handed to the silvery-haired guy, who said his name was Chuck E. Muckle, a vice-president from Mother Paula's company headquarters. He really thought he was hot snot, Roy could tell.
Ignoring the foreman and the police officer, Mr. Muckle proceeded with great enthusiasm to introduce some local big shots-the mayor, a city councilman, and the head of the chamber of commerce.
"I can't tell you how proud and delighted we are to make Coconut Cove the home of our 469th family-style restaurant," Mr. Muckle said. "Mr. Mayor, Councilman Grandy, all of you terrific folks who've come out on this gorgeous Florida day… I'm here to promise you that Mother Paula will be a good citizen, a good friend, and a good neighbor to everybody!"
"Unless you're an owl," Roy said.
Mr. Muckle didn't hear it. Saluting the gathering of students, he said, "I am truly excited to see so many of our fine young people here today. This is a historic moment for your town-our town, I should say-and we're happy you can take a short break from your classes and celebrate with us."
He paused and manufactured a chuckle. "Anyway, I expect we'll be seeing most of you again, once the restaurant opens and Mother Paula's busy in the kitchen. Hey, everybody, who likes licorice oatmeal pancakes?"
It was an awkward moment. Only the mayor and Councilman Grandy raised their hands. The girl soccer players held their homemade signs with the blank side facing out, as they awaited directions from Beatrice.
Mr. Muckle snickered nervously. "Mother Paula, dearest, I think it's time. Shall we do the deed?"
They all posed side by side-the company V.P., the mayor, Mother Paula, Councilman Grandy, and the boss of the chamber of commerce-for the television crew and the news photographer.
Gold-painted shovels were handed out, and on Mr. Muckle's signal all the dignitaries smiled, leaned over, and dug up a scoopful of sand. On cue, a smattering of city employees in the crowd cheered and applauded.
It was the most bogus thing Roy had ever seen. He couldn't believe anyone would put it on TV or in a newspaper.
"These people," Beatrice said, "need a life."
As soon as the photo pose ended, Mr. Muckle tossed down his gold shovel and snatched up the megaphone. "Before the bulldozers and backhoes get rolling," he said, "Mother Paula herself wants to say a few words."
Mother Paula didn't look overjoyed to have the megaphone shoved in her hand. "You've got a real nice town," she said. "I'll see you next spring at the grand opening-"