Rosie considered Mayor Grant’s frown, hunched shoulders, and complete lack of interest. She had to come up with some way to convince him.
“You raise some great points. We could … we could—” The solution hit Rosie like Miss Matilda’s flyswatter. She snapped her fingers. “We could borrow the outdoor movie screen and projector from Gloster. I know they have one because Mama and I saw an outdoor movie there last year.”
Mayor Grant tented his fingers and looked more interested. “I forgot they had an outdoor movie contraption.”
“If Gloster loaned it to us, we could screen the documentary … and—and another movie too after the sun went down.” Rosie watched Mayor Grant perk up. “Last year, when Gloster showed that outdoor movie, it was packed. People love to watch movies outside. You could show something everyone would like—something like Singin’ in the Rain or E.T.”
“Not a bad idea,” Mayor Grant said. “It could be another big attraction for the festival, make it a whole family affair.”
Rosie was almost there.
“You can show the movie after my documentary,” Rosie said. Her muscles bunched up with nerves. He had to say yes. “No one is going to be thinking about a skeleton when they have a movie to distract them.”
Mrs. Grant turned to her husband. “Honey, I think it’s a great idea.”
Mayor Grant eyed Rosie for several long seconds. “All right, Rosie. Let’s do it.”
Rosie let out a small yelp of triumph. “You will not regret this.”
Mayor Grant held up a finger. “I am going to need to see that documentary in advance.”
“You bet,” Rosie said, unable to stop smiling.
“And you only have seventeen days until the festival,” Mayor Grant added.
“I’m great at working on tight deadlines. It’s good practice for the real world too. Hollywood producers are notorious for riding directors on film schedules,” Rosie said.
“I can’t wait to see it,” Mrs. Grant said warmly.
“I’m going home to start my storyboard right now, and I already have a ton of ideas. With all the research I have to do, I might even figure out what causes the Miracles,” Rosie said, clasping her hands together. If she made a documentary and solved the town’s greatest mystery in the process, everyone would be so impressed. Her father would be so impressed.
Mrs. Grant chuckled. “I don’t know about that. No one knows what causes the Miracles.”
“Well, someone has to figure it out,” Rosie said. She scooped up her to-go bag from the counter and skipped out of the diner before Mayor Grant could change his mind.
Outside, the chrysanthemums on the Lawler front porch looked redder, the leaves on the ground sounded crunchier, and the air all around was crisper. The sweet smell of caramel scented the air. Rosie waved to Mrs. Lawler and Mr. Willis. She smiled at Mrs. Green and Mr. Waverman, both of whom were holding metal detectors and walking down opposite sides of the street, already searching for the train treasure and glaring at each other across the pavement. Rosie wanted to shout out her news to the entire world. Not only was she making a documentary the entire town would see, solving a hundred-year-old mystery, and proving to everyone she was a real talent as a filmmaker, she’d found a way to get her father to Glimmer Creek.
Her plan was simple. Michael had promised to come see her first movie, so it was only natural for her to invite him to her big premiere. How could he possibly turn down the invitation to come to the festival when he was only two hours away? According to Miss Lily, he was fascinated with the Miracles too, which meant he’d definitely want to see a documentary about them. All she had left to do was ask him to come. Finding his address shouldn’t be too hard.
Rosie wriggled, unable to keep her happiness inside. She imagined the look on her father’s face when he walked into Glimmer Creek. He would pull her into a hug—an actual, real hug. If she was shooting it with her camera, the lens would zoom in on his face, a little craggy but still handsome. One tear would slip down his cheek; Rosie would look up at him, and they would both know everything in their lives had changed forever.
CHAPTER SIX
The next morning, Rosie wished she were still curled under the covers of her warm bed. Instead, she was filing papers at the town hall before school to earn enough money to pay back Mama for the new bench. The walls were a drab beige, like the underside of a moth’s wing. Black metal filing cabinets lined each side of the hallway, crowding the narrow pathway and darkening the hall. She’d walked up and down the same stretch of gray carpet for an hour with an endless stack of papers to file. Rosie yawned. If only she hadn’t stayed up so late thinking about her plan to get Michael to Glimmer Creek.
Unable to find a listed phone number or address, Rosie planned to search Mama’s laptop for Michael’s e-mail address after school today. Her stomach churned as she thought about what Mama would say if she found out Rosie had contacted Michael without telling her. Would her mouth turn down in that disappointed look she got when Rosie forgot to empty the dishwasher? Would she think Rosie had betrayed her? Rosie couldn’t even think of the right way to tell Mama about the documentary because she was too afraid of blurting out the real reason for the film.
Mama burst into the hallway, her long skirt swirling around the high heels she wore for work. She held a muffin in her hand. “I present the cherry-chocolate muffin baked by yours truly. It’s good for all manners of insomnia, including unrequited love, academic concerns, artistic dilemmas, reality-television malaise, and monetary distress.”
Mama’s words ran together in one long mix of letters. Sometimes she talked as fast as Katharine Hepburn in Bringing Up Baby, and Rosie had to watch that film three times before she got most of the dialogue.
Rosie snatched up the muffin and took a bite. The tart cherries and smooth chocolate mingled together in perfect harmony. She might work at the town hall, but Mama was still the best baker in Glimmer Creek.
“Well?” Mama asked, her eyes twinkling.
“Well what?” Rosie said around a mouthful of muffin.
“My room is beside yours, sugar, and I could hear you pacing half the night.”
Rosie turned to throw the muffin wrapper away, searching for a trash can and stalling for time, unable to explain the real reason she was awake last night. “If I was awake, it was only because someone else in the house kept me up with their snoring.”
“Impossible! I was the only other person in the house, and I’m much too dainty to snore. If you heard anything, it was probably a nearby train.”
“There aren’t train tracks in Glimmer Creek anymore.”
“Well, maybe it was a buzz saw.”
“At midnight?”
“It’s the only explanation,” Mama said.
“Besides you snoring,” Rosie said.
“Like I said, impossible.”
“You’re impossible,” Rosie said, smiling at Mama.
Back and forth, teasing and laughing—this was what she and Mama did best. Mama wouldn’t yell at her like Henry’s mama or snap at her like Cam’s mama did sometimes. They had their own special communication. Rosie’s smile faded as she thought about her plan to meet Michael, a plan that couldn’t involve telling Mama. There was nothing special about lying.