by Vikki Walton
Eliza leaned back on the bed.
“Here let me help you.” Anne fluffed the pillows beneath Eliza. The gaunt woman cautiously turned over on her side. Her face became serious and her voice lower. “Keep reaching out to Kandi. She’s hurt, but she’ll come around.”
Anne sat and looked down at her hands. “I just wanted to start over. I wasn’t trying to hide anything. In a way, I’m rediscovering who I am. I would have told her eventually.”
“You need not explain anything to me. I understand the desire to be in a place of security. Of allowing time to heal.” She sighed deeply once more.
“Eliza—”
Eliza held her hand up to stop Anne. “I know what you’re going to say. What am I, a black woman that stands out against a sea of white faces, doing in Carolan Springs?”
Anne laughed. “Well, actually, I was going to ask about your fan club.” She waved toward the display of numerous expensive flower arrangements. “But since you brought it up, you’re right. I am nosy. From what I can gather, the town is middle to lower income. We have some wealthy residents, but not many gorgeous African- American supermodels. So, yes, I’m curious as to what brought you here.”
“While I appreciate your compliment, beauty can also be detrimental.” Sadness passed across Eliza’s face before she continued. “Years ago, I came to Colorado for a photo shoot. After we were done, I decided to explore on my own. I rented a car and took off for a drive. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you look at it, I wasn’t used to driving in the mountains. Eliza poured some water from a plastic container and took a sip of water before speaking. “I did what most people do. I rode the brakes down the mountain and next thing I knew—no brakes. Luckily, I was able to coast into town. As you know, Carolan Springs isn’t a big town, so it had only a few vehicles for rent and those were gone. The wrong parts were sent for my car. I ended up staying the entire week.
“I met Kandi the first day.” Eliza stopped speaking and a strange look passed over her face. She quickly took another sip of water. Now composed again, she continued. “Kandi’s the one who got me a room at Marla’s Bed and Breakfast.”
“Wait. I thought Marla was the reporter.”
“She is but being a reporter here is only a part-time job.” Eliza moved into a different position.
“Sorry, please continue your story,” Anne replied. “Well, Kandi took me out for a hike to a beautiful lake. As we made our way around the lake, we came across a cabin that was up for sale. Everyone had been so kind and friendly. I knew I wanted to return, so I bought the place. Just like that.
“Now I come here when I don’t need to be in New York or LA, or on location. It took some time for everyone to get used to me, but now I am acquainted with quite a few of the town’s residents. They’ve accepted me, and I’ve accepted them.” She rubbed her head, and a furrow appeared between her eyes.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Anne stood up. “I should let you rest. Need anything before I go?”
“No, thank you.” Eliza grimaced.
As if by telepathy, a nurse appeared. “Time for your medication.”
Eliza held out her hand and Anne took it. “Thank you again for coming. I appreciate it very much. Please give my regards to Kandi.”
“I will.” She gave Eliza’s hand a little squeeze. Anne determined she would see Kandi if she had to camp out on the young woman’s porch.
Chapter Fourteen
Anne drove directly to Kandi’s and marched up to the kitchen door.
She knocked.
No answer.
She waited.
“Kandi, I know you’re in there. Open this door!” Anne banged again. “I’m not leaving until you open this door, young lady. You need me, you know. Who else is going to help you find the killer?”
“Hey, there.” A woman’s voice interrupted her rant.
Anne turned to see a group of people coming from the direction of her house.
Someone in the crowd spoke. “We were just going over to see you.”
“You were?” Anne let her hand drop to her side. The crowd parted.
“Yes.” Kandi stood with her hands clutched in front of her. “Everyone has shared how this is a great opportunity for our homesteading fair. We have a famous author in our midst. We’d…I’d…like to ask if you will be the headliner of the fair.”
All eyes were on her.
Anne hated the idea of headlining the fair, but knew she had no choice if she were going to make it up to Kandi. “Of course.”
Everyone cheered.
“Great.” A woman’s voice carried from the back of the group. “Let’s get planning.”
The elderly man from the last disastrous meeting spoke. “Is there coffee? I’m cold.”
“Yes, Mr. Culpepper.” Kandi pointed to the house. “I also have some items for sandwiches, along with some pickled eggs, potato salad, and some blueberry crumble with fresh cream.”
He licked his lips. “Well, then. What are we doing standing around out here for? Let’s get to work.” He rubbed his hands together and strode forward.
Everyone followed after him, leaving Kandi and Anne alone. Both had hung back as the group entered the house.
Anne reached over and laid her hand on Kandi’s arm. “I’m sorry, Kandi. Sincerely. I did not mean to be secretive. I simply wanted some space.”
“I still feel like such a fool. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you.” Kandi wrung her hands together. “You really hurt me by not trusting me.”
“It’s not surprising at all. I have a totally different hair color and hairstyle, removed the entire makeup mask, and gained about forty pounds. You’d be surprised at what good makeup and lighting can do for you.” She grinned.
Kandi glanced up at Anne. “You know in some ways,
I’m really excited. This is going to be such a great thing for our community. In other ways, I want to stay mad at you.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“Truce, then?” Anne held out her hand.
Kandi caught her hand and pulled her into a hug. “I don’t want to stay mad—”
“Hey, come on. I got me some things to be doing.” A man’s voice interrupted the scene.
The two women laughed as Mr. Culpepper threw his hands in the air before being admonished to come back inside by his wife.
“Come on, you.” Anne linked her arm with Kandi’s. “Forty pounds, huh?” Kandi winked at Anne, who swatted at the young woman. Kandi laughed and went on, “After the entire thing with poor Rusty, we decided to focus on poultry as our primary theme. Workshops early in the day will be about chicks and brooders, then on to pullets, and finally on to the hens. In the evening we’re going to have a ‘rooster’ themed dance.”
Anne’s eyebrows rose.
“I know…I know what you’re thinking. It’s a bit hokey. But I think it fits us.” Kandi pushed her hair behind her ears.
Anne replied. “Agree. I think it will be fun. And I like hokey. What else do we need to talk about?”
“You’ll have two presentations. One in the morning and one in the afternoon. Even without any of the main items, I’m hearing rooms are booking up quickly. Having your name added as speaker is going to be a big draw. Thanks again for doing this. You’re the best.”
“Egg-xactly,” Anne chimed in.
Kandi groaned. “Oh no. Not you too! I’ve had to deal with those kinds of puns for, like, weeks from Stanley.”
“Then it’s my pleasure to continue the hokey pun-fest. I’m egg-static to be part of a successful hokey homestead fair.”
Kandi groaned. Then they both burst out laughing.
Before Anne knew it, the fair was upon them. The town was decked out in all its finery promoting the fair. Stores were packed with day tourists and cafes with those staying at local bed and breakfasts. Sam had rented out his place on HomeAway and two couples from Texas were staying there.
Although Anne was used to speaking in front of audiences, this
would be her biggest live audience. She launched into the advantages and benefits of backyard chickens. There were many beginners interested in chickens so lots of hands shot up in the air with questions.
“I only have a very small yard. It’s just me and my husband. Can I get just one chicken?”
“I don’t recommend it. Chicken are social creatures. They’re a bit like teenagers. They need others around and they’ll definitely have a pecking order. If you don’t have the space, try a bantam or smaller chicken breed. You could easily have three to five hens. And trust me, you’ll have friends that want any extra eggs you might have!”
Anne pointed at a woman wearing a baby snuggly in her Tula wrap.
“I’d only seen white and brown eggs at my grocery store. But earlier today I saw some blue ones, some pink, and even some green eggs. How do you get those kinds of eggs and do they taste different than a white egg?”
Anne moved to the side of the stage where a dozen eggs were in a clear container. “Each of these eggs is a different color. Some”—she held up one—“even have spots on them. This is determined by the type of hens you have. For instance, if you want a brown egg, then your best choices would be something like a Rhode Island Red, a Wyandotte, an Astralorp, or Orpington.
Ameraucana or Aracaunas, or what some refer to as Easter-eggers, lay blue or green eggs.’’
A small hand shot up.
“Yes? You in the back.” She motioned to the small boy. “Um, uh, how do you know if the eggs are good for you? I mean, you know, like, okay to eat? I mean, when you go to the store, you can trust they’re okay.”
“Good question. Thanks for asking.” The boy beamed at the praise.
“First, let’s start with the timing. When you go outside and retrieve eggs on a daily basis, those eggs are fresh. Eggs in the store can have taken up to five weeks just to get on your refrigerator shelf.”
Some people in the crowd gasped, and Anne heard, “Is that true?”
“It’s true. Look it up.” She smiled at the crowd.
“Healthy egg yolks will look like a bright orange sun and will be firm and not break. Eggs from your backyard chickens are often healthier for you with less cholesterol and saturated fat, yet have more vitamins A and E, omega 3s, and beta carotene. Just one more reason to consider getting some of your own hens.
“Also, remember, chickens aren’t vegetarian. They’re omnivores. They love bugs. They need protein. One of the best things you can give your girls are mealworms. They love them.”
A little girl on the front row said loudly, “I don’t want to eat worms.”
The audience roared. Definitely a good sign when people enjoyed themselves. Anne spied Kandi signaling for her to conclude. “Okay, time for one last question.”
“I bought some chickens, and I think they’re dying. They started losing all their feathers. They look horrible.” The woman grimaced. “Should I ask for my money back?”
“They’re molting. Now that the weather is cooler, they’re getting ready to put on their winter coats. In a few weeks, you’ll be thinking you have the prettiest chickens in town.”
Anne smiled at the crowd. “Thank you everyone. You’ve been great. I’ll be over at the table in booth forty- five, if you’d like to stop by.”
The audience clapped, and Anne left the stage. As she moved to the right on the stairs, a group of folk musicians climbed to set up for their performance at lunch.
Anne met Kandi. “How’s it going? I tried to say hi this morning, but you were—”
“Running around like a chicken with my head cut off?” Kandi tossed her head, her ponytail bouncing. “It’s been crazy. I think we, like, doubled our numbers from last year. And it’s all due to you. You’ve made this a huge success.” She hugged Anne who returned the hug.
Anne smiled as she grasped Kandi’s arms. “Don’t count yourself short. Your hokey idea looks to have struck a chord with a lot of folks. People interested in homesteading can learn while others can simply enjoy the fair and take home some of Sally’s homemade peach jam.”
“It’s, like, the best isn’t it?” Kandi smiled. “I have her saving me a couple jars.”
“Me too. Plus the vendor booths, the petting farm, the music performances, and the rooster dance are all great ideas.”
“Have to give credit where credit is due. I had some initial ideas, but when everything went nuts after Ralph died, believe it or not, Stanley stepped in and took over. I guess that old drill sergeant instinct kicked in. He had everyone working on a section of the fair. And, like, he told me, they all attacked it to win the war. He persuaded” —she made quotes in the air with her fingers—“a bunch of the local store owners to, like, pony up money. He told them how their businesses would benefit, and voilà, there you go. Done deal. I’m super stoked.” Kandi’s phone dinged with a text. “Oops. Meltdown at the kid’s petting area. Gotta go.” She hurried off.
“Hi.” A deep voice came from behind her.
Anne turned to find Sheriff Carson standing there. His six foot four height was imposing and his broad shoulders blocked some of the sun.
“Hello.” She reached up and subconsciously smoothed her hair.
“Good job up there.” He nodded toward the stage. “Walk with me?”
“Well, I was going to head over to the food tent.” “Sounds good to me. I haven’t eaten all morning. May I join you?”
“You off duty?” She peered up at him. Short black curls peeked from the back of his hat, signaling a haircut put off.
“I’ve been here since four this morning. Got the deputies on ‘stop being a jack—’” He stumbled over his words. “Well, you can probably figure out the rest. Got some of the local veterans acting as posse on any bad behavior.” He smiled down at her and she noticed one of his teeth had a small chip in the corner. It made him look less invincible.
They’d reached the food tent where all matter of intriguing and mouthwatering smells drifted in the air.
A lyrical voice called out, “Carson! Carson!” A woman hurried toward them. She wore a form-fitting burgundy and cream sweater, a pair of forest green corduroys, and tall brown boots with heels that added height to her petite frame. Instead of jarring, the burgundy made her scarlet hair glow. She was—in a word—stunning.
Anne glanced down at her wrinkled chambray shirt, jeans, and ankle boots. She wished she’d considered her outfit a bit more this morning, but five o’clock had come way too early and she’d wanted to wear something comfortable. The word hokey came unbidden to her mind. Just because she’d given up couture didn’t mean she should give up caring at all. She smoothed her shirt with her hands.
The sheriff smiled as the woman approached. “Hi, Sorcha. What can I do for you?”
Sorcha purred. “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you.”
Anne took a step forward.
“Oh… hello.” Sorcha turned back to Carson. “Oh, don’t look so sad. You know I’ve got some food for you. Shepherd’s pie and scotch eggs—your favorite. Come on.” She hooked her arm through his, propelling him away.
“Later?” he said over his shoulder. “Sure. No worries.” She waved them off.
Who am I kidding? No way can I compete with the fiery- hot Celtic Sophia Loren.
That unbidden thought stopped her in her tracks. Compete? She didn’t even feel any attraction to the man. If anything, he was condescending to her. He also seemed to always appear when she looked, or felt, at her worst. No. She didn’t feel anything.
He’s simply being friendly and I’m tired.
Chapter Fifteen
After giving her second talk, Anne told Kandi she was leaving for the day. One of the first things she’d fallen in love with in Carolan Springs was the wide tree-lined streets and the various shops where you could browse at leisure so she decided to stroll down Main Street. Normally quiet, the last few days they’d thrived with people from the fair. People crowded around displays put out by shop vendors and street
musicians performed varying types of music. It all served to present a festive air to the city and was inviting her to participate.
Fall was certainly in the air. Leaves tickled by the wind provided windswept colors on the swept sidewalk in front of her and the aspens quivered and rustled as she enjoyed their golden dance in the sun. The remnants of melting snow were the only reminder of the storm from last night. Anne marveled at how quickly the weather could change in Colorado.
After browsing in a few shops, Anne reached the town bookstore. All of her homesteading books now graced the shop’s window. Taking a step back, she turned to move down the street when the store’s door flew open. A
pretty, young woman ran out of the door. “Hello. Aren’t you Ms. Tenet? I mean, Ms. Freemont?”
“Yes.” Anne smiled back.
“How do you like the display?” the young woman asked excitedly.
She inspected it alongside the woman. The display spotlighted a backdrop of a farm scene that featured rustic folk art chickens along with a milk jug brimming with artificial sunflowers. From the ceiling, bees with gossamer wings flew in front of the artificial sky. Anne’s books were stacked or opened to showcase photos.
“It’s very nice. Did you create it?” Anne complimented the woman with reddish gold hair and green eyes. Freckles liberally dotted her nose.
“Yes, I did.” She smiled brightly, revealing a set of white teeth encased in braces. “Oh, and I’m Missy.”
“Would you like me to sign some of the books, Missy?”
“Really?” Missy squealed and jumped up and down before composing herself. “Oh, that would be wonderful!”
She opened the door and escorted Anne into the shop. Inside, the smell of old books mingled with the scent of chocolate chip cookies. A woman appeared in the doorway. Anne’s breath caught in her throat. It was Sorcha.
Where the girl was cute and pretty, the woman was beautiful. Her mahogany locks which had cascaded in waves over her shoulders were now pulled back with a clip and she’d traded her high-heeled brown boots for some burgundy velvet flats.