He puffed out a loud burst of air and shook his head. "This morning just keeps getting better."
"If I'm in the way, maybe I could find someone else to interview." I was already not looking forward to shadowing a maintenance man on his safety check. Now, it seemed, I was going to be shadowing a grumpy man. There sure seemed to be a lot of them around the carnival this morning, and it seemed all of their sour moods were somehow connected to the fortune teller.
Chapter 9
After one of the longest hours of my life, following the less than congenial Calvin, the maintenance man, around the maze of carnival rides and gaining absolutely nothing from the tour, except the solid decision not to step foot on any of the attractions, I found myself wandering through the early carnival crowd. It seemed the morning hours were more attractive to the families with young children, which made sense considering how early little ones got up from bed when on vacation. My mom used to complain that it took a human-sized can opener to pry us from bed on school mornings, but we ejected from bed at the crack of dawn during spring and summer break. Of course, that all changed once we hit the teen years, which would also explain the lack of teenagers attending the carnival this morning.
I strolled past the fortune telling tent. Cherise had hung a sign that said readings would begin at noon. I'd briefly considered interviewing her, unsure of where to turn to next, but it seemed she was out for the morning. It was just as well. It wasn't as if I could straight up ask her if she was having an affair with the owner. Not that it was beyond me as a journalist. I never shied from tough questions, but I didn't want to upset Raine. It would be too easy for Cherise to piece together where I got my information.
Feeling utterly uninspired, I made the desperate decision to interview some of the workers at the food stands. Maybe the carnies deep frying cupcakes could add a little zip to the story. I headed down the main aisle where food booths were lined up on both sides, offering every morsel from deep fried pickles to jalapeno kettle corn. I perused the stands, not for the most daring food choice but for the carnival employee who looked the most interesting. I was leaning toward the woman at the snow cone booth only because she was wearing a shirt that said 'no flavor combination too crazy. Just ask'.
I pulled out my notebook and looked at the sad, dull notes I'd taken during my hour with Calvin. What a waste of a morning. As I rethought my strategy about an interview with the snow cone lady, a burst of color came around the corner. The Spring Fair Queen, dressed in her regalia of red velvet cloak and rhinestone crown, was holding a massive bouquet of helium balloons. Anxious little kids surrounded her, waiting for a free balloon.
The scene should have been charming, but it lacked any spark of joy, with the exception of the kids running back to their parents with a bouncy balloon in tow. The queen, however, looked as if she was on the verge of tears as she forced a smile and secured the strings to tiny little wrists. Melinda was flanked, on each side, by her friends. They helped her with the task by pulling single balloons free from the giant bouquet. In between, they seemed to console her and pat her on the red velvet shoulder. There was definitely something amiss with the Spring Fair Queen.
I strolled casually along, trying to overhear their conversation between the excited clamor of little kids and the balloons rubbing against each other.
"Well, I think he'll come around," the friend on her right said with confidence. "It's just—what do they call it—cold turkey," she said with equal assurance.
The other friend leaned over to see her counterpart on the right. "Uh, I think you mean cold feet, Cynthia. I just can't believe anyone can change their mind that quickly," she added.
My gaze flew to Melinda's left hand as she finished tying a pink balloon on the wrist of a little girl wearing a tiger striped shirt and go-go boots to match. The beautiful diamond engagement ring was gone. It seemed something had happened between yesterday's engagement announcement and today's balloon disbursement. My mind dashed back to the brief chat with Cherise in Lana's kitchen. She had mentioned, with no qualifiers or details, that she didn't think the engagement would last. It couldn't have just been coincidence. How would a fortune teller in a traveling carnival have a connection with a couple who lived here in Firefly Junction?
Queen Melinda and her entourage moved on. I followed for a bit, trying to grab a few more slices of information, but there was too much activity around them. It didn't matter much anyhow. It wasn't as if I was going to be able to write my carnival story around the breakup of the Spring Fair Queen's engagement.
My phone buzzed. It was a text from Emily. "How are the animals?" She had no idea about Lana. She would, no doubt, be upset that we didn't tell her about it, but at least this way she could still enjoy her romantic getaway with Nick. Her text reminded me that I needed to drive home at lunch to check on the farm and Lana.
"Everyone is still standing on four legs. And two legs too. Even King Harold."
She wrote right back. "Is he giving you trouble?"
"Not anymore. I think we've reached a truce. Especially because I go inside the yard armed with a broom."
"That rotten rooster," Emily texted back.
"Are you two having a nice time?" I wrote. Certainly, their week had to be going better than mine.
"It's wonderful and the place Nick picked is super cozy. How is Lana? I texted her earlier, but she didn't answer."
I froze and stared down at my phone, quickly trying to find a reason that Lana didn't text back, other than the most probable one that she was taking a nap. Lana was not normally a nap taker, so Emily would know something was up.
"She probably just left her phone somewhere, like in the barn. You know how busy she gets when she's working." I hated lying to Emily, but I had no choice.
"I'm sure you're right," Emily texted. "We'll see you soon."
"Have fun." I put my phone back into my pocket and headed toward the snow cone booth.
The cooler morning air and cloud cover seemed to be hurting snow cone sales. The woman running the machine was scrolling through her phone with seemingly nothing to do. I pulled out my notebook. I was at the carnival to get a story, so I was going to have to toss out my best, most leading questions, the kind of deep, meaningful queries that got to the heart of any good news article.
"Good morning, I'm Sunni Taylor from the Junction Times." I flashed my press pass. "I'm writing a story about the carnival. I was hoping I could ask you a few questions."
She lowered her phone and looked slightly surprised that I'd come to her for answers.
"Sure, I guess so."
I held my pen against the paper and squinted at her badge. "Well, Carmen, first question. What is the most popular flavor combination at the snow cone stand?"
Chapter 10
After a riveting morning talking to carnival workers about snow cone flavors and popular game prizes, I headed to Emily's farm to check on her furry and feathered children. My plan was to do a quick survey of the farm, then dash over to Lana's to fix us lunch. Then I'd go back to the carnival to see if I could catch Carson in a better mood for an interview.
I drove the jeep along the unpaved road leading up to Emily's farm and was more than shocked to see Lana's car parked in front of the chicken yard. I hopped out of the jeep and headed toward the coops. The hens were busy scratching away at the dirt and grass picking up microscopic edibles.
Lana was leaned into one of the nesting houses with an egg collecting basket hanging on the injured arm.
"Why are you collecting eggs when you should be at home resting?" I called across the yard.
My voice startled her. She popped up so fast, she hit the back of her head on the edge of the nest box. She dropped two eggs into her half full basket and rubbed her head. "You sneak up on people just like King Harold." I noted, then, that my weapon of choice, the straw broom, was leaning up against the side of the nest boxes.
"Sorry, I should have announced myself," I said. "Although that probably still would hav
e ended with a head bump." I walked through the two gates that led into the chicken yard. I scanned the feathery crowd for a fiery red comb but didn't see the crazy king.
I carefully lifted the basket off of Lana's arm, making extra sure not to even graze the thick wrap, the temporary cast, on her wrist. "I'm fairly certain carrying heavy baskets and collecting eggs was not on the doctor's list of proper care for you broken wrist."
Lana blew out a puff of frustrated air. "I know but I hate being useless, and we were both supposed to take care of the farm together. It's not fair that I left it all for you."
"Really, I don't mind at all." A flash of red behind her made my heart skip a beat. "Don't look now but the cranky king has just spotted us."
Lana grabbed the broom. "Start toward the gate. I'll cover you."
My laughter contained a twinge of hysteria as I raced toward the gate with the basket of eggs and my sister and her broom sweeping up behind. We made it through without incident. King Harold paced in front of the gate with his red crown held high as if he'd just successfully rid the castle yard of intruders.
All the color had returned to Lana's pink complexion, but I sensed that she was in more pain than she let on. "Why don't you head home," I suggested. "I'll just check on the horse and goats, then I'll make us some lunch. I'm starved. I've been hanging around the carnival all morning breathing in the scent of popcorn, hamburgers and funnel cakes."
"I can help you finish up in the barn," Lana insisted, and I knew too well there was no arguing against her. "I spent the morning trying to make paper star garlands for the party, but the stars looked very sad and un-star-like. That's when I decided to come here. I figured it wouldn't take two working hands to collect eggs and fill water buckets."
"All right. Let's finish up." I glanced up at the sky. Other than the occasional lone raindrop, it seemed the clouds were holding. "I was expecting it to rain by now." We walked across the yard to the barn. "I was thinking I'd let Butterscotch out to stretch her legs, but what kind of aunt would I be if I let one of Emily's babies get wet."
I slid open the barn door. The warm scent of animal, straw and hay surrounded us.
"I'm pretty sure a two thousand pound horse can hold her own in a mild rainstorm, but you're probably right. Emily wouldn't be happy." Lana hung the broom on the rack next to the mucking rakes.
"Speaking of Emily," I grabbed a large pinch of hay off a bale for the goats. "Did you text her back? She was worried about you not responding."
"I didn't text her back because I hate lying to Emily. It's like lying to sweet Grandma Edna or to a fluffy white kitten. I'd be overcome with guilt."
"So you chose the true coward's way out and let your sister deal with the guilt." Cuddlebug and Tinkerbell, Emily's goats, were happy to see me. I couldn't stop myself from going into their stall for some hugs. Lana checked in on the horse. After some good, hearty rubs and squeezes, the girls squirmed free of my exuberant hugs and headed to the pile of hay.
I walked out, locked them in and headed to the horse's stall. Lana was brushing Butterscotch's blonde coat with her left hand. "I can't believe how weak my left arm is compared to my right," she said.
"Yeah, I guess it's something you don't notice until you're forced to rely on the weaker arm. Do you want me to finish grooming her?"
Lana shook her head. "No, if I'm going to have to rely on my left arm for six weeks, I better start breaking it in." She winced. "Bad choice of words but you know what I mean."
I stayed on the outside of the stall and watched Lana work. Butterscotch blithely nibbled on a pile of hay, enjoying the snack and groom combo.
"What did you think of Raine's friend, Cherise?" I asked.
"Gosh, I could hardly tell you. I was kind of out of it last night. I mostly remember a gold coat and a woman lecturing me about coating my stomach with food."
I laughed. "Guess you picked up on the more poignant parts of the evening anyhow."
"Why do you ask?"
"No reason really. She's a fortune teller at the traveling carnival, but Raine doesn't seem too impressed with the woman's psychic skills."
Lana chuckled. "You might have noticed but Raine tends to be kind of judgy when it comes to psychic skills."
"Yes, that's true. It's just, Cherise seemed to be right about something she said last night. Yesterday at the fair, the girl who was crowned Spring Fair Queen made the announcement that she was engaged to Sutton Wright. With no details given, Cherise mentioned that she didn't think the engagement would last. And today, it seemed that prediction came true. The queen was shuffling around the carnival looking distraught and short one diamond ring."
"Maybe Cherise has more talent than Raine wants to admit." Lana patted Butterscotch's neck. "That's the best I can do, pretty girl, with my weakling left arm."
I opened the stall door for Lana. "Let's go make some lunch," Lana said. "I've worked up an appetite from all this ranch work."
Chapter 11
After a bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich at Lana's, I headed to my house for a quick check that everyone was behaving. For the first time since I could remember, I walked inside and Ursula and Henry were having a nice, polite conversation instead of the usual heated debate. I followed the pleasantly toned voices past the dining room to the room I'd designated as the library, mostly because of the floor to ceiling bookshelves on one wall. The opposite wall consisted of large picture windows that looked out over my vast collection of unsightly weeds. Now that the restoration project had reached a room that looked out over the rear of the property, I'd begun thinking about landscaping and quiet sitting areas for my future guests. I just wasn't sure how to fund it or who to hire for the work. At the moment, I had more than enough on my hands. For now, the outdoor landscapes would just be pretty pictures in my head.
The dogs trotted ahead of me to the library. Ursula turned away from the bookshelves she and Henry had been surveying when I walked into the room. "Sunni," she said cheerily, "we weren't expectin' you, but you're right on time. Henry and I were thinking you should have these shelves sanded down to the original cherry wood and then covered with a clear coat to make them shine."
"We know just the guy to do it too," Henry said. "A friend of mine is a real Michelangelo at restoring wood."
I stared up at the weathered shelves. At one time, I was sure they'd been filled with dusty leather bound tomes. I could almost picture Edward standing in front of them, trying to decide which book to pull out. I just as quickly imagined beautiful, besotted Bonnie Ross standing next to him, reaching secretly for his hand. I shook the image from my head.
"You know, these shelves are the focal point of the room. I would love to fill them with books for the guests to read. I'll scatter some comfy reading chairs and pretty lamps throughout the room." I nodded my head. "Line up your friend, Henry. I think it's a great idea to restore them to their natural beauty."
"Woo hoo," Ursula cheered. "I told you she'd love my idea."
Henry's face bunched up, and I knew the moment of peace had ended. Even the dogs figured it out and raced out of the room. "Your idea? Ha! I thought of it and told you about it last night. You only started to agree with me this morning."
"No, Henry, as usual, you've got it all wrong," Ursula tightened the belt on her baggy overalls.
I took the change in tone as my cue to leave. I headed through to the kitchen to see if Edward was lurking about. I found him sitting on his favorite place on the hearth in the kitchen. Occasionally, I caught him in a pensive moment, where it seemed he was lost in thought. This was one of those moments. He was so distracted, he didn't notice me walk in. It was always a guess, but to me, he looked sad, almost as if he were lost and wishing he could find home.
It reminded me that I needed to check my email. Months earlier, a member of a paranormal society had given me the name of an elderly woman in New York who was a direct descendant of a man named Suffolk. Suffolk had been a distant cousin of Cleveland Ross, the man who built C
ider Ridge Inn and, more notoriously, the man who had caused Edward's death. Bonnie had been whisked away to the Suffolk house when it was discovered that she was carrying Edward's baby. With a bit of research at the records office, I'd discovered that Bonnie had given birth to Edward's baby. She'd named him James Henry Milton, her family name. Henrietta Suffolk, a descendant of the family who took Bonnie in, had some information about the entire event. I'd finally gotten around to writing her an email asking if she could tell me anything about Bonnie and baby James. It was all part of an attempt to discover why Edward remained stuck at the inn, the place where he'd died. It had been two hundred years, and he was not able to move on. I was certain it had to do with his son.
I pulled out my phone to check my email.
"There you go again, staring at the thin, metal tablet. A great deal of life must pass you by while you're looking at that object." Edward floated off the hearth and drifted over to the kitchen window.
"I hardly think I'm missing a great deal of life standing in my own kitchen, and I assure you, I look at my phone very little compared to some people." He wasn't listening to me as he gazed longingly out the window. He'd lamented more than once that he missed the feel of riding a horse through a pasture or smelling the fresh cut grass on the fields. It seemed he was experiencing one of those nostalgic memories. I allowed him his silent moment of reverie and checked my email. Henrietta Suffolk had replied.
"Bingo," I said to myself, and opened the email.
Dear Ms. Taylor,
I recently went through my Great Aunt Henrietta's emails and found your request for information regarding Bonnie Louise Milton. I'm sad to convey the news that my Great Aunt Henrietta died in her sleep last week. She was ninety-five. It was a peaceful death, and we are all grateful for that because she was a wonderful woman. As to your request for information, I coincidentally found a letter my aunt had addressed to you at the Cider Ridge Inn. It was in her letter writing desk. I dropped it at the post office yesterday, so you should be receiving it soon. I have no idea of the contents, but it seemed to contain several documents because it was quite thick. I hope that it contains what you are looking for. My aunt was a treasure trove of historical information.
Calamity at the Carnival Page 5