in the fifty-and-up crowd. “Are you all staying in Tumbledown?”
“As a matter of fact—” she started.
One of the taller women called out. “Girls, we’ve got to go. Bus for the pumpkin patch tour leaves in five minutes.”
Cy was impressed that Sid Crawford, who owned some hundred acres on the outskirts of Tumbledown, had managed to put together a tour that would interest the assembled ladies. Sid wasn’t exactly a people person, but perhaps his son had realized that harvesting tourist dollars took even less effort than growing pumpkins.
Flo waved goodbye, and the ladies departed in a yellow storm.
Julio wiped sweat from his brow. “Good to have tourists.”
And it was. Tumbledown was an easily overlooked spot south of Half Moon Bay. Even folks lured in by the newly docked River King probably headed straight for the bigger towns to spend their souvenir money. In a matter of months, the hordes would descend on the annual Half Moon Bay Pumpkin Festival, for which Sid would provide his best specimens. Tumbledown might see a few adventurous visitors, but not usually in such organized groups as the yellow-hatters seemed to be.
Julio drifted to the window. “What in tarnation will they do in Tumbledown to amuse themselves? We don’t even have a hotel here now that the Pelican’s not an inn anymore.”
Cy felt a pinch of discomfort. What could be entertaining enough for the ladies? His gaze drifted toward the ocean. Though he couldn’t see the pier where the River King was docked, he could imagine her there, reception room in disarray, flooded staterooms awaiting repair.
Surely Irene had not booked such a large group now, when he desperately needed every minute of uninterrupted time to meet his insane deadline? She would have said something while she was blackmailing him.
“Can you pack up these books for me, Julio, and take them over to the Pelican later today?”
“Of course. We pride ourselves on excellent customer service here. As a matter of fact—”
“Thanks, Julio,” he called, scooping up Baggy and rushing out the door.
* * *
PIPER MEANT TO lock herself in her minuscule stateroom, which doubled as a cleaning supply closet, but Irene Hershey intercepted her. She clutched two fistfuls of yellow helium balloons.
“These need to go in the reception room, pronto.”
Though she did odd jobs around the boat in exchange for her room, Piper had already put in her time helping Hollister clean the lobby. “I’m not on the clock yet.”
Irene’s eyes narrowed. “You are now. Kitty needs help in the kitchen, and Hollister is up to his ponytail in unfolded towels.”
Piper noted the web of wrinkles that Irene’s powder was not able to hide. Her mouth drooped with fatigue or possibly worry. Running a small business was a killer.
Irene thrust the balloons at Piper. “I can pay you minimum wage for the extra hours. Take it or leave it.”
Piper took it, and the balloons. Giving in stung her pride, but once again, she was not in a position to worry about that. She didn’t see the logic in decorating a room that Cy was about to tear apart, but she didn’t want to spend too much time thinking about him. Her primary concern had to be finding another place for her uncle to live. It was mortifying that Cy had allowed her uncle to stay, even though he clearly despised Boris. She would find something else. Any other residence besides Cy Franco’s beloved old inn. She’d have to earn enough extra money for a security deposit, at least.
In the reception room, someone had rolled out the long banquet table and several large rounds, which were now covered with straw-colored linens. They had definitely not been set up when she’d left the night before, after the Spooley overboard debacle.
Hope and disappointment lapped together in her stomach. If the room was being set up for a party, Cy clearly wasn’t remodeling it after all. Perhaps the plans had changed and he had declined the job. But who else could invent a room worthy of Dizz in three weeks? No one. Her chance at a big break would disappear.
And so would Cy.
She thrust the thoughts aside and tied one bunch of balloons around the nearest chair. Hollister entered, whistling, dropping precisely folded napkins on the banquet table.
“Has Irene expanded your job description, too, Hollister?”
He nodded. “I need more to do, anyway.”
“What’s going on?”
“Captain Hershey said she’d explain later.”
The door was flung open and Cy strode in, blue eyes wide. “What...?”
As he scanned the room, Piper was struck again that the man was quite simply luscious. Tall, blond curly hair, eyes of sapphire and a full mouth.
She realized he was staring at her, hands fisted on his hips. Cheeks burning, she held fast to the remaining balloons.
“Why are you putting up tables and balloons in here?” he demanded. “I’m going to start taking up flooring and installing crown molding. All this has got to go.”
“It’s not our idea,” Piper said. “We’re doing what we were told.”
Irene appeared, forehead shining with sweat.
“Hollister, can you help with check-in?” she panted. “There’s a line twenty ladies deep. I don’t know why people can’t come in small batches. Must they all arrive in droves?”
“Aye, aye, Captain Hershey.” Hollister snapped off a salute and trotted out.
“I wish I could convince that dolt not to call me captain. I can’t decide if he’s making fun of me or trying to be clever.”
Cy rounded on her. “What’s going on? I’m supposed to decorate in here. I see balloons and tables when I should be seeing drop cloths and putty knives.”
“The putty knives will have to wait until after an impromptu cookies-and-punch reception.” She clapped a hand to her forehead. “Oh, man. Kitty can’t get cookies made by two o’clock. I’d better ask that weird scone guy in town...”
“Nester?” Piper supplied.
“Yeah. I’ll ask him if he’s got scones left. Five dozen ought to do it. Maybe six.”
Piper blinked. “But I thought we only had a few guests.”
“It’s the yellow hat ladies.” Irene spoke with reverence.
“I saw them earlier,” Piper said. “Are they a club or something?”
“A local chapter of a national group that calls themselves the River Belles. Their mission is to travel on every paddle wheel riverboat in the US.”
“But this boat doesn’t go anywhere. It stays in the harbor,” Piper pointed out.
“I’m
