“You know, Myra still calls this Dominion Day.”  Schanke leaned back a little in the seat, and turned to Nick with a grin.  Both were trying for their usual banter; but neither had expected to be called out to a murder in Chinatown on a holiday that was a scheduled day off.  They’d had plans.
“Caused a bit of a fuss at breakfast yesterday,” he continued.  “Jenny insisted that, no, it was Canada Day; so I teased her a bit by backing up Myra—and then the kid got into quoting her teacher at us.  Turns out she never even heard of Dominion Day.”
“‘What do they teach them at school these days?’” joked Nick.
“I’m not talking about Jenny!” Schanke said.  “She’s only eight, after all.  It’s her teacher.  Jenny said something in class apparently, and got “corrected”.”  He snorted.  “At least you and me, we’re old enough to remember the holiday back before they renamed it!”
“I was in Chicago,” Nick pointed out.  “But I get what you’re saying.”  He signalled a right turn, intending to get onto the Gardiner.  The victim had lived in Mimico.  They needed to talk to the family.
“Hang on!” said Schanke.  He leaned forward to look at the dashboard.  “What’s the time?  Oh man, oh man, oh man, it’s nearly 10:30.  Take the Lakeshore, Nick.”
“What?"
“We’ll be driving right past Ontario Place.”
The Gardiner might have got them a better view, being elevated even though it was further away; but Nick didn’t say anything.  When the first rockets spangled the sky, he pulled down a sidestreet where the starbursts could be seen ahead, less impeded by nearby buildings.  There was no point in trying to get closer, not at this hour:  they would have had to start much sooner to find a good place.
He and Natalie had been heading for the elevator when their beepers had gone.
“Were you and Myra planning to bring Jenny?” he asked.
“No, no.  She wanted to, mind.  Begged and pleaded—you know how it is.  But she's too young.”
“You’re never too young for fireworks,” Nick observed.  (Nor too old, either, he might have added; but didn’t.  It was a comment he might have made to Nat, though.)
Schanke spluttered.  “That’s easy for you to say.  You’re not married.  You’ve never had to cope with a cranky kid kept up too far past her bed time.”
Unseen in the dark of the car, Nick grinned.
“Myra’s supervising a couple of packets of sparklers,” Schanke added, more than a bit wistfully:  he'd intended to be there to wave a few around himself.  And then watch the fireworks on TV with Myra, snuggling on the couch after the kid was in bed.
“If you happen to come over in the next couple of days,” he said, “maybe you better not mention we came here tonight.  Jenny’d be pretty upset that I got to see the display and she didn’t."
“Sure, sure,” said Nick.  There was a moment’s pause for another burst of rockets.
Schanke added, “I won’t mention it to Nat, either.”