North Country Mom by Lois Richer

Author:Lois Richer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2014-03-03T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Alicia finished the last few details of her display for the Canada Day parade. She was proud of her country and she wanted other Canadians to appreciate their land, as well. So each year she made a special effort to enter a unique float for the July First parade, hoping to interest others to learn more about their heritage.

When she’d tweaked everything to her satisfaction, Hector drove the borrowed flat wagon to the start of the parade route. Alicia hurried inside her store to change. Then she’d follow him. Judging by the people she’d seen gathered along the street, a number of tourists were present for the festivities. That would be good for business.

Now dressed in her costume, she hurried to the counter to pick up the basket of beaded bracelets she intended to toss to the kids.

“Alicia, you look amazing.” Giselle stood in the doorway, brown eyes gaping from the white circles of her clown face.

“I’ll second that. Incredible even.” Jack stood behind his daughter. The admiration blazing from his blue eyes made Alicia’s heart pound.

“Thank you.” The bells on her ankles tinkled as she bowed. The feathers on her headpiece shivered when she looked up. “But neither of you is supposed to see me until I appear in the parade,” she chided with a smile.

“We just wanted to ask if we could help you with anything,” Giselle murmured.

Alicia raised an eyebrow. We? As far as she knew, Jack had refused to get involved in the Canada Day celebrations beyond allowing Giselle to walk as a clown and hand out leaflets about the hotel. He hadn’t mentioned the kite flying.

“I thought you weren’t interested,” she said to Jack.

“The boys couldn’t find enough wood for the fire you need this afternoon, for your ‘Making of the Bannock’ so I asked Dad to help us.” Giselle grinned at Jack.

“Nagged is more like it. And she doesn’t even know what bannock is, Alicia,” Jack teased. When he smiled, it did funny things to her composure.

“Do so.” Giselle shot an exaggerated glare at her father. “It’s a kind of flat bread indigenous North Americans made with flour, baking powder, sugar, lard and water or milk. It’s baked in an oven or cooked on a stick.”

“That’s right,” Alicia said. “First Nations people didn’t always have those ingredients though, so they used whatever resources were available. Flour from trees, sap for sugar and whatever leavening agents they could find.”

“You are incredible,” Jack murmured. “All this history, this information—it’s an amazing gift you give to people.”

“Thanks.” Alicia blushed at his effusive praise, wondering for just a moment what it would be like to have someone on your side all the time, to praise you when things got tough, to cheer you when you didn’t think you could handle something, to defend you when trouble loomed. A loud whine broke through her musing. “There’s the horn for the parade lineup. I need to go.”

The peal of the phone stopped her.

But when she picked it

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