Catch As Cat Can

                "How do I look?" Reverend Jones held out his arms full-length, blue and gold marshal's sash covering his chest.

                "A million bucks." She smiled."Are you ready?"

                "What do I do but wave? "The older man laughed.

                Sean and Roger O'Bannon walked up. Roger, a touch shorter in his brother, had obviously just buzz-cut his sandy hair.

                "Time?"

                "You've got time." Harry smiled at him."Like your new hair-t."

                "Make time." Roger snapped his fingers, ever the younger brother, slightly rebellious."Do you know this is the fifteenth year e driven a float? Do I get a medal?"

                "No, Roger. It means you're a glutton for punishment." Harry sighed at him.

                "Ever since I got my driver's license."

                "Liar." Sean poked his brother."You drove before you had your license."

                "Not a float."

                "If Dad were here he'd settle this."

                "Well, he's not." Roger smacked Harry on the small of her ck."Talk to Lottie for me."

                "Why?"

                "She's playing hard to get."

                "Smart girl." Sean laughed.

                Roger growled at him, baring his teeth as fangs. It startled Tucker, who growled back."I want her to be my date at the Wrecker's Ball."

                "You're upsetting my dog," Harry said to Roger.

                "Same effect he has on Lottie."

                "Sean." Roger threw up his hands in mock despair."What do women want?"

                "Ask us one at a time," Harry swiftly replied.

                Roger laughed, "Good answer."

                Sean spoke to Roger."Be persistent and send presents. Always works for me."

                "Oh? Since when?" Roger pulled Sean's ponytail.

                "You're driving her float. That ought to spike your hormones." Sean readjusted his ponytail."Make her special."

                "Guys, would you like me to leave?"

                "I said hormones. I didn't mention his sperm count." Sean smirked."No help for that."

                Harry threw up her hands."Too much information! Go back to your respective floats."

                "You're worse with women than I am," Roger swirled right back at his brother.

                "Well?" Harry crossed her arms over her chest.

                "I'm going." Roger turned on his heel.

                "I'm not." Waiting until his brother was out of earshot, Sean whispered, "Do you think it would do any good if you spoke to Lottie?"

                "Hell, no. She's pissed because BoomBoom fixed me up with someone she wanted to go to the dance with."

                "Who?"

                "I don't know. A friend from Washington. Lottie doesn't know him either but he's new and he has a good position at an embassy. Guess the idea excited her. Anyway, she won't listen to me. Ask Little Mim to help you, since Lottie's been working with her for the festival. Worth a try."

                Sean smiled weakly."Thanks, Harry." He took a few steps, then turned back to her. ^'He's an okay guy, a little rough around the edges. Typical motorhead."

                "I know." She winked as Sean set out to find Little Mim.

                Harry checked her watch, then her clipboard. She scanned the floats. The O'Bannon Salvage float was an elaborate reconstruction of Monticello made out of salvage.

                "They'll win the prize for sure," Reverend Herb whispered in her ear, coming up behind her.

                Harry returned to her list."Herb, you look terrific and you'll pull out in about fifteen minutes. We've got the St. Elizabeth band right behind you and the Mah-Jongg Club."

                The Mah-Jongg lathes, most of them in rickshaws being pulled by sturdy-legged youngsters, wore Chinese clothes. The club had been running strong since the 1920s and these were the survivors, Aunt Tally Urquhart among them in an electric-blue dress.

                Harry grabbed the bullhorn as she ascended the three-foot-square wooden stand that served as her command post."Hey, gang." They chattered still."Earth to parade. Earth to parade." Slowly the assembled, perhaps five hundred strong, quieted."We are ten minutes from blastoff. If you have to go to the bathroom, do it now." A titter of laughter followed."Remember, the parade always takes longer than we think it will. There are people with buckets filled with ice, bottled water, Gatorade, along the route. They are there for you. If you feel even a tiny bit thirsty, call out and they'll bring you your drink."

                "Scotch on the rocks," Aunt Tally hollered, her voice strong and youthful for a woman in her nineties.

                "Oh, you spoiled my present." Reverend Herb Jones trotted over, handing her a bottle of good scotch as everyone around screamed with laughter and the news was passed down the line, with more laughter following in ripples.

                "I could use some catnip." Pewter was grateful that Harry had put a huge bowl of water in the truck as well as crunchies but she wanted catnip, too.

                "Get in a rickshaw then. Your chances will improve." Murphy laughed.

                "I just might." The gray cat leaned over the edge of the truck.

                Harry checked her watch again."Eight minutes."

                An athletic figure jogged alongside the assembled floats.

                "Welcome home!" Harry beamed, seeing Tracy Raz.

                "Hey, girl." He kissed her as she leaned down."I'll catch up with you later. Cuddles is nervous. I think she's blown every note on her pitch pipe." He laughed at Miranda, whom he sometimes called Cuddles, her high-school nickname.