Enjoying

Every moment in life is a gift to be enjoyed but most especially the memorable ones.

The screams of war echo through Foret Lodge's grounds as water balloons fly through the air. Some faithfully hit their targets but others hit trees or open ground. Squeals of panic ring out as some watery missiles fly too far and onlookers dash out of the way at the incoming attack.

"I think the kids are enjoying this new tradition," Loch chuckles.

"It might be a bit difficult to find out who's the winner though," Brutus points out.

"Who cares! I haven't heard one complaint about Sombreville and Foret Lodge's rule of no fireworks," Loch counters. "That makes me the winner."

"Big brother, you're absolutely shameless," Brutus laughs.

"You say that like you're not absolutely relieved yourself, little brother," Loch comments.

Bog shakes his head at the banter, trying to contain his own laughter as he keeps a tight grip on Dragonfly's leash to keep her from joining the fun. He knows as well as almost everyone else that if it wasn't for the fact that his father and uncle are in their work uniforms in preparation for the Independence Day parade that both men would be one of those so-called kids pelting each other with balloons.

He laughs as Sunny manages to dodge a balloon headed toward him with a sideflip before effortlessly throwing the balloon in his hand at the attacker. The younger man definitely has a starting fanbase if all those adoring looks are anything to go by. Unfortunately for one female visitor, Dawn had noticed her overly-appraising eyes on her husband.

"Ouch! I thought Marianne was the vengeful sister," Bog mutters as the woman is pelted with several balloons.

"You don't want Marianne angry," Donald cautions.

Bog, Loch, and Brutus turn their attention from the water balloon war to stare at the somber man. Clearly, the brunette woman must be a terror to behold. A strange thought considering her joyful figure helping to keep the ammunition in great supply but they had no reason not to believe her father. The man must have seen great horror being alone in a house full of women.


Marianne snickers as the crowds head toward the buffet tables as soon as Bog ends his pre-picnic speech. She's beginning to think that it's a tradition to ignore manners in favor of food at all the holiday dinners hosted at Foret Lodge. Maybe it's because of Bog's reminders about safety and rules that makes the crowds less appreciative.

She gladly takes his hand as he offers it to her but pulls his hand to her lips before he can kiss her hand himself and grins at his flustered look. Just because they have to keep it toned down in public, doesn't mean that she's going to let herself be the only one to blush at subtle affections. He's still a shade of red as they catch-up to their waiting relatives near the buffet tables and she smirks as he blushes further at their mothers' giggling.

"I don't get it," Sunny comments, grabbing a plate. "Why is there a rule of no fireworks when you use them in your Independence Day parade and you have a Firework Festival this evening?"

"That rule is to keep all uncertified personal from using any pyrotechnics at an unauthorized time and at an unapproved location to prevent injury, damage, and death," Thang quotes, beaming proudly at the fact that he said it correctly.

"What he means is that fireworks are only allowed to be used by certain people at a certain time and at a certain place to keep anyone from being hurt and to prevent fires," Stuff corrects at Sunny's confused look.

"That's what I said," Thang mutters.

"I guess that makes sense," Sunny remarks. "If just a little fire like the one two and a half weeks ago could cause such problems, it's kind of scary to think what a bigger one could do."

"In a way, a large firework-related fire would be easier to put out than that small fire the day before Father's Day," Loch mentions.

"Really," Dawn asks?

"A firework-related fire is only caused by hot sparks and flammable material. That fire can be extinguished just by water and removing the damaged debris," Loch starts. "The fire two and a half weeks ago was caused by isopropyl alcohol and vegetable oil. Not only are chemical fires nearly impossible to be extinguished with water but if there's any remnant of the chemicals left, the fire can be restarted with enough heat. That's why we let the fire burn itself out instead of trying to extinguish it. In fact,..."

"Save the lecture for fire safety classes, Darling," Griselda interrupts, pushing his still form. "You'll hold up the line."

Marianne snickers as Loch turn red from collar to ear as he chuckles sheepishly and obediently moves forward. Like father, like son. Bog did take after his father the most, even more than A.C. does.

Sighing happily, she smiles warmly and rubs her growing stomach with her free hand.

"What are you thinking about," Bog questions?

"About how much I hope Jasper takes after his daddy," Marianne murmurs happily.

"As long as he doesn't act like his uncle," Griselda states.

"Hey," Sunny pouts!

"Not you, dear. The other uncle. My son, the troublemaker," Griselda huffs.

"A.C. isn't that bad, Mom," Bog chuckles. "He can be responsible...sometimes."

"He does have his moments," Griselda amends. "Where is he anyway? It's not like A.C. to miss the speech and definitely not when it's time to eat."

"He took Kyle and his group to check the burn site for any new growth," Bog answers. "They may have caused us a lot of problems in the past but it'd be terrible to let them go home still feeling guilty and A.C. figured that seeing the area recover might help them."

"The poor dears," Annabelle murmurs, shaking her head. "Even though it was an accident, the guilt is going to take a while to go."

"I think they're more upset about A.C. almost not believing Carla when she made it to the lodge to report the fire," Thang comments.

"It's a good thing he didn't brush off the alarm as a prank or we may have lost a larger part of the forest than just that two hundred yard radius," Stuff mutters.

Marianne shivers at that thought herself. It really was a close call once all the details were known. With all the work that had to be done, it wasn't until Sunday afternoon that the group was fully questioned and everyone realized just how much worse it could have been.

What had started as tending to a scratch from an early morning bathroom trip had turned into a flurry of panic when Kyle had tripped and the bottle of isopropyl alcohol went into their campfire's hot coals, igniting both the flames and the waking group's fear. A fear that became terror when the bottle of lighter fluid and the bottle of vegetable oil got consumed in the spreading fire.

Loch had praised the group's quick thinking of separating into pairs to soak the surrounding area with lake water to keep the fire from spreading while another pair removed their belongings farther away. The fire chief was especially proud of the fact that despite their troublemaking reputation, they did pay attention to Foret Lodge's fire safety classes. He made sure to tell them that their efforts had prevented a lot of damage in the time it took for their fastest runner to make it to the lodge and for A.C. to return with her on his horse.

They still had to cut down parts of the surrounding forest as a precaution to keep the burning fire from spreading but the area is already recovering with new growth. The forest surrounding Foret Lodge is as tenacious as the people who care for it.


"These ribs are delicious," Donald hums. "I don't think I'll ever get tired of them even if I eat it every day."

"Your doctor will probably have something to say about that," Annabelle mutters, tapping his stomach and smirking at her husband's crestfallen face.

"The cruelty of getting old. What once was a six-pack is now a keg," Donald bemoans. "How'd you manage to keep the weight off, Loch?"

"Good genes," Loch chuckles. "While most Rois aren't as skinny as Bog here, our metabolism stays pretty high even when we get old."

"Cheer up, Dad, at least you still got a full head of hair," Marianne points out. "Jared is younger than you and he's already going bald."

"I hope I take after Mom's side of the family," Sunny mumbles, running a hand through his thick brown hair.

"Your dad doesn't look bad being bald. He's pretty hot," Dawn giggles.

"That is true," Marianne hums, winking at Dawn. "Best way to gauge the sexiness of a man when he grows old is to check out his father and I say we both picked good husbands."

Marianne laughs as Bog and Loch turn a dark shade of red, made worse when Griselda adds her two-cents of how good-looking her husband was back in the day. The trip down memory lane is halted as A.C. finally makes an appearance and sits down beside Bog with his filled plate.

"Where have you been? It shouldn't have taken you that long to get to the burn site and back," Bog comments.

"I was distracted," A.C. answers blithely.

"Distracted," Loch questions suspiciously?

"In my defense, I was left unsupervised," A.C. smirks.

Marianne would almost believe that she was the only one to get a cold premonition of doom but looking away from her stilled fork, she can clearly see the whole table frozen. Was it a premonition for horror or eternal embarrassment? Who knew? But one thing is sure, when it comes to A.C., it's never a good thing.

"What did you do," Bog asks slowly and firmly?

"Me? I didn't do anything," A.C. answers.

"Let me rephrase that then," Bog remarks. "What didn't you do that you probably should have done?"

She isn't the only one to groan as A.C.'s broad smile becomes wider. Whatever he had gotten into this time could not be good.

"ROI!"

"Oh no! Not him! I was having such a pleasant day, too," Loch groans before glaring at his youngest son. "If you've done something to ruin my day, you're going to be cleaning every toilet in the firehouse and in Foret Lodge every day for the next four weeks. Do I make myself clear?"

"Trust me, Dad, you're going to love this," A.C. snickers, waving his camera for a moment before stuffing it in his pocket.

Everyone turns their attention as Greyson runs into the pavilion entrance, pausing only a moment to look around before running straight toward the Roi family table. It's obvious from his haggard appearance and missing toupee that he's not there to make an annoyance of himself this time. There's clearly something wrong.

"Roi, you have to fix this," Greyson demands!

"Fix what," Loch questions with a sigh?

"They'll ruin everything," Greyson moans!

"I can't do anything if you don't tell me what the problem is," Loch growls.

"You have to get them out of there! Now," Greyson demands!

"Eric," Loch yells, shocking the pavilion into complete silence! "Stop babbling and tell me what the problem is!"

"There are raccoons in my car," Greyson whines!

Was that the sound of a pin drop she could hear? Or maybe that was laughter desperately trying to be muffled?

"Well," Loch coughs, trying to disguise his chuckling. "There are raccoons in your car?"

"That's what I said," Greyson grumbles.

"How did they get in there," Loch asks?

"I don't know. Probably through the window," Greyson huffs. "Just get them out!"

"Didn't you follow the proper procedure to prevent something like this happening," Loch questions?

"Why would I need to? There have never been raccoons around my cabin before," Greyson defends.

Marianne looks to Bog worriedly as Loch's eye twitches in annoyance and his tightened fist breaks the plastic silverware. It might not be a smart idea for the elder Roi's patience to be tested farther.

"Mr Greyson, as you're aware, we had a fire not too long ago and those raccoons are probably searching for new territory as a result of the fire," Bog explains. "Had you followed proper procedure, it would not have been a problem but since you didn't, it's best to wait until near evening to remove the raccoons."

"What! Why," Greyson asks?

"Those animals are nocturnal and will be highly aggressive with them being cornered at a time when they can't see properly," Bog answers.

"Well, I need them moved now," Greyson states.

"We're not distressing poor animals just because you're inconvenienced," Griselda comments.

"I'll sue Foret Lodge for damages," Greyson threatens.

"The contract you signed for that cabin clearly states that Foret Lodge is not responsible for any damage done by wild animals, especially when you do not follow proper procedure," Loch counters, taking a bite of his potato salad and ignoring the fuming man.

"I'll sue you," Greyson tries.

"On what charge," Loch scoffs?

"I'll sue you for...for...well, I'll think of something," Greyson blusters.

"Need I remind you that even if any court will take the case, your wife won't like the publicity," Griselda murmurs, smirking as the gaunt balding Ken doll pales further. "Bad for business, you know. I can just see the headlines. Rich blue-blood sues ex-fiancee's husband because raccoons disturbed his summertime getaway with three young female companions! My, my, doesn't that sound like a tabloid thriller."

"But I need those raccoons gone now," Greyson whines! "Shelia will kill me if I'm not there for the meeting."

"If only, if only," Griselda mutters, taking a bite of her fried chicken.

"There might be a way to remove the raccoons without distressing them too much," A.C. mentions, ignoring the glares from his parents.

"Do you mean it," Greyson questions hopefully?

"Well, I had noticed your dilemma as I was passing your cabin on my way back from the burn site," A.C. admits. "With your car being kept under a carport, it might be possible to place tarps on the sides to darken the inside and lure the raccoons out of the vehicle. Might be possible, anyway."

"If you get those raccoons out, I'll...I'll...I'll never come back to Foret Lodge again," Greyson swears!

"I want that in writing," Loch demands!

"Hallelujah! Miracles do happen," Griselda cheers!

Tea Blend.

For the record, I had planned to have three black bears in Greyson's car in honor of a Facebook post my mother had come across several weeks ago but after much research, I realized that it wouldn't be plausible for the story I wanted. Raccoons aren't a pitiful second choice, though. The little jerks got into my freshly-planted box garden in May and ruined my cantaloupe and watermelons. Everything else survived the assault and the deterrents I put up seem to be working, so I didn't take my Border Terrier/American Foxhound hunting (though, he has been glaring at the pine trees across the road during bathroom breaks at night).