Lizzie climbed out of her van and called to Claire. “I’ve got a load of special Easter eggs.” Daylight was fading in the park. Clumps of vivid yellow daffodils dotted the wildflower meadow, paired with blooming forsythia.
Five minutes before closing, Lizzie Christopher stacked fabric sample books on the shelves of her interior design shop. A woman walked through the Main Street entrance and slammed the door shut.
Lizzie Christopher pulled a pan of pot roast and vegetables out of the oven. She added sliced mushrooms as she greeted her high schoolers, Claire and Phillip, and her husband, Nick Cameron. “Hey, guys, what were you up to after school?” Nudging their three standard Poodles aside with her knee, she put dinner back in the oven and set the timer for fifteen minutes.
Flags started disappearing on Flag Day, June fourteenth. Mostly Stars and Stripes, with a few maple leaves to celebrate Canada Day, and a tricolored French flag, flown in anticipation of Bastille Day. On her usual early morning dog walk, a week before the Fourth of July, Lizzie Christopher saw that her Jericho, Ohio neighborhood was stripped bare, not a flag left flying.
Lizzie Christopher carried a huge tray of steaming individual chicken pot pies into the high school Commons, an open space for dining and social events, and set it at the end of a serving table. Her husband, Nick Cameron, followed with another tray. She slipped off her oven mitts and brushed the hair out of her face.
