Free The Chocolate Bridal Bash by JoAnna Carl Page B

your initials spell a word, you’ll get money. And my initials spell a word both ways.”
    Mike laughed. “Rat and Tar,” he said. “Some words. But you’ve done a lot for the city, Rollie, by getting this grant and the others you’ve obtained from the McKay Foundation, and we appreciate it.”
    Mike led a round of applause, then called for a vote on the consent agenda, the routine items. Unless there were some question about one of those, the council was on its final vote. This gave me only a moment to feel guilty about the way I’d snapped at Rollie Taylor the last time I’d seen him—a week earlier at the library. Did I owe him an apology? I couldn’t decide.
    There were no questions. Within three minutes Mike Herrera gave a sharp rap with his gavel and declared the meeting adjourned. I stayed where I was, waiting for Joe to finish any final bits of discussion with the council or the city clerk and still considering whether or not I’d been rude to Rollie.
    Joe was still up front, talking to Mike Herrera, when Rollie came down the aisle. “Hi, Lee,” he said. “Did you know that if Dolly Parton married Salvador Dalí, she’d be Dolly Dalí?”
    “Sure,” I said. “And if Aunt Nettie’s chief assistant, Dolly Jolly, married Buddy Holly, she’d be Dolly Jolly Holly. But Rollie, I think I owe you an apology.”
    He raised his eyebrows. “What for?”
    “For getting snappy at the library the other night. I don’t have any real excuse for my rudeness.”
    “Forget it! Listen, do you and Joe like musical comedy?”
    “I like it, and I’ve never heard him object to it. Why?”
    “I’m sure you know that the touring company of The Music Man is coming to Grand Rapids. I’ve wound up with a couple of tickets I can’t use. Let me give them to you.”
    “Give” them to us? I was amazed. Rollie never gave anything away. He’d had a garage sale when he got rid of his old clothes. It hadn’t seemed to occur to him he could give them to the Salvation Army with almost no effort, and the garage sale meant he had to work all day to make twenty or twenty-five dollars.
    After my initial surprise, I realized neither Joe nor I would be happy owing Rollie a favor. “We couldn’t accept them, Rollie!” I said. “But it’s awfully nice of you to offer.”
    “You’d be doing me a favor, Lee. I bought the tickets because the Holland Theater Guild was selling them as a fund-raiser. I thought I’d go, but it’s the same night I agreed to work at the Kiwanis pancake supper.”
    “You can trade shifts with some other Kiwanian, Rollie. I know those tickets weren’t cheap. You should use them yourself.”
    He and I argued back and forth for a few minutes. No, Rollie couldn’t trade them back to the Holland Theater Guild; he was booked all five of the nights the show was going to play Grand Rapids. One night was city council, one was his Scout troop, one was the Kiwanis supper, the fourth was the Habitat for Humanity board meeting, and every Sunday afternoon he ran the bingo at a Dorinda senior citizen’s residence. He swore he couldn’t fail to appear for any of the activities.
    We were still arguing when Joe came up. I explained what was going on.
    Rollie smiled at Joe. “It ought to be a good show. And, honest, I can’t use the tickets.”
    Joe offered to buy them, but Rollie again refused.
    “You could scalp them,” Joe said.
    “How? The best place for that would be outside the theater, and I can’t go that night.”
    “Okay, Rollie. Let’s make a deal. We’ll take the tickets, and in May I’ll help you put your boat in the water.”
    “Done!” Rollie turned to me. “See, Lee. It’s a winwin deal. You and Joe get the tickets, and I get professional help with my boat.”
    Rollie did have two extravagances—a snazzy powerboat and European travel.
    We were all happy. Rollie handed over the tickets, and we talked about what a great show The Music Man is and how Joe and I would have to eat lunch