by Zoe Chant
"It has to do with you being a wonderful person," Ryan said softly, and a warm thrill went through Missy.
"C'mon, you don't know me that well. I could be secretly awful."
"If you were secretly awful you'd be friends with that Kelly person."
Missy shouted with laughter. "Yeah, okay, fair. Tell you what, I think we've been walking around for a couple of hours now. Let's go back to the booth and I'll treat you to some fresh funnel cakes."
"You talked me right into it." Ryan took her hand and they walked the long way back around the fair, dawdling down an artist's alley filled with pottery and paintings.
"This is the most dangerous place in the fair to me," Missy said with a happy sigh. "I always end up with at least one new mug every year, and I have dreams of being rich and getting a whole set of dishes made just for me."
"Do you have to be rich for that?"
"Richer than I am, at least! I've got a friend who's a potter and she charges a lot for matched sets because, and I quote, "It's so boring to make all that matched stuff!" So even if I got a friends and family discount, which I wouldn't take, it's a lot. I'm saving up, though, because I'd really love to have them."
"Is she here? Your friend?"
Missy smiled. "Yeah, her booth is down there. Her name is Lynn. Come on, I'll introduce you." A minute later, at Lynn's booth, she said, "Or at least I'll show you her stuff," since Lynn, according to her helper, had left an hour earlier. Ryan put his orangutan down so he wouldn't knock anything over, and Missy put the seal back in its lap, and they spent fifteen or twenty minutes oohing and aahing over the various pieces.
"I see what you mean about expensive." Ryan held up a gorgeous blue and black bowl that was part of a six-piece set. "This one set is two hundred dollars!"
"And that's cheap," Missy said firmly. "It's super hard for artisans to charge enough for their work because we buy so much mass-produced stuff, which is a lot cheaper to make. Most people don't understand how hard it is to make a whole matching set, much less six or eight that match each other well enough to sell as a whole dinner setting, so nobody wants to pay what the potter's time and effort is really worth. Knitters and quilters have the same problem!"
Ryan put the bowl down carefully and looked at the second stack of dishes that was made to match, beside it, then nodded. "And I guess it's probably easier to make two sets that match, as opposed to six or eight, so the more there are of them, the more expensive the whole set gets."
"Exactly," Missy said wistfully. "So: someday when I'm rich."
Ryan smiled at her. "What a great way to spend your riches, though."
"I think so." Missy reluctantly down put the jug she'd picked up to admire, and waved goodbye at Lynn's assistant as Ryan picked up their stuffed animals.
"Onward," he said. "Although you might have been right about not carrying these around all evening. My arms are getting tired."
Missy grinned. "Of course I was right. C'mon, we'll go straight to the booth, drop them off, eat some fried bread, and check in with Becky on how the fundraising is going."
"Sounds like a great way to end the evening."
A shock of dismay darted through Missy. The fair was open for another three hours, and she hated the idea of not spending every minute of that with Ryan. Not that she would force him to stay with her if he didn't want to, of course. Still, she was a little subdued, heading back to her booth.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The scent of fried dough and cinnamon somehow managed to waft above the other smells of the fair, leading Ryan in the right direction even if Missy didn't know the fastest way to get there already. Maybe it was because those scents reminded him of her, maybe that's why it was so easy to follow it.
Follow your nose, follow your heart, his seal said contentedly. It had been very happy all afternoon, and Ryan felt that way himself. He hadn't been kidding earlier, when he'd told Missy this had been the most exciting day of his life. All he needed was to wrap it up with some fried dough and maybe a kiss, and maybe he could convince her to forget that other guy she'd found attractive.
His seal said, Really? and disappeared into the depths of his mind again.
Ryan said, What? What? after it, but it had nothing else to say. What?! Ryan said again. Don't you think I should distract her from the other guy??
The seal, sounding despairing, said, If you can, and Ryan took that as both a challenge and a good sign.
Missy had quieted down as they walked, like she was tired. Given that she'd had an even more exciting day than he had, Ryan wasn't surprised. "How are you feeling?"
"Hm? What? Oh. I'm fine." She smiled up at him briefly and let go of his hand to press her palm against her own chest. "No cough, no soreness, nothing. I'm good. Think we can put the stuffed animals in the changing room?" She nodded ahead of them, where the dunk tank line had diminished, and the changing room stood empty.
"That's a good idea. Let's ask Becky."
Before they got to her, Becky turned to see them approach. Her jaw fell open and she shouted, "What!? Look at that bear—no, orangutan! What? Did he win that for you, Missy?"
Missy snorted and tossed her hair. "Are you kidding? I won it for him!"
"Aww." Becky made a little heart with her hands. "Next thing you know you'll be buying him flowers."
"That'd be great," Ryan said. "I love flowers."
"Yeah?" Missy looked up at him. "What's your favorite kind?"
"Sunflowers!"
"Wait, what's the seal about, then?" Becky interrupted, and Ryan waved, pleased with himself.
"I won that for her. We were wondering if we could put them in the changing booth for the rest of the evening."
"Oooh, you won something for her, too! A seal." Becky laughed. "I love it. Yeah, go ahead. Oh, by the way, Noah Brannigan came back a while ago and forced me, forced me, I tell you, to buy an entry to the three-legged contest at seven tonight. Some kind of fundraiser for the school, I think. I told him you two would participate."
Ryan's eyebrows shot up. He could think of much worse things than being tied to Missy Clark for a while, but he glanced at her to be sure. "We will?"
Missy put a hand over her face. "Noah's a force of nature. If we don't at least try, he'll make sad eyes at me for the next six months. Okay. All right, fine. I'm good at pitching, but I'm extremely bad at racing," she told Ryan. "Be prepared to lose badly."
"I can live with that. Speaking of fundraising…" Ryan turned to his cousin again. "How's it gone here today?"
Becky sobered. "Word kind of got around about Missy falling in this afternoon and business dried up, even if everything was okay in the end. But if it keeps up like that we're not going to raise nearly as much money for the sanctuary as I'd hoped."
"Well, it's getting too late to dunk people anyway," Missy said as Ryan lugged the stuffed animals into the changing booth. "It'll start cooling down soon, and people don't like to get wet and then walk around in the dark. But if you're worried about the fundraising…" She paused as Ryan came back, then lowered her voice so only they could hear her. "I mean, why don't you just put a seal in the tank and let people pet it and stuff?"
"And where would we get a seal?" Becky demanded.
Missy stared at her, at Ryan, at the tank, and back at them again, spreading her hands. "Uh, well…!"
Becky said, "Oh," and then, "Oh," and turned around to stare at the tank herself. "Ryan? It's got your seal-ness in it anyway…"
"Yeah, but I can't just climb in and shift," he said in hardly more than a whisper. "People would notice."
"Not if we put up a curtain before the big reveal," Missy said brightly. "You can go in the back and we can pull the curtain to show you off! If that's not too exploitative or something."
"It totally is," Becky said. "I love it. Let's do it. If you're up for it, Ryan?"
"But it's six feet tall," Ryan said. "Kids can't get up there to pet a seal."
"You said seals were great at jumping out of wa
ter," Missy said.
"Whose side are you on here?"
Missy grinned. "The seal sanctuary's?"
"This is all my fault," Ryan said to the sky. "Because I said she was good with animals." His seal was wiggling with excitement, though, saying, I never get to be seen! I want to be seen!
"Yeah, all right, buddy," Ryan murmured, smiling. "I think I'd better stay in the water, though. Seals are pretty big and we don't want any parents freaking out over their kids being at risk. I can hang out at the window, though, and let them get pictures and stuff."
"If this works you might be stuck being a seal in the tank all day tomorrow," Becky warned.
"Nope," Missy said instantly. "He said he was gonna come learn how to fry funnel cakes so he could help me out, so you don't get him all day."
Becky looked between them and said, "OoooOOOOooooh, I seeeEEEEeeee," and then, "Okay. But maybe tomorrow evening, if this is a success?"
"I can do that," Ryan promised. "But if we've got to go do the race at seven, we've only got about half an hour to try this out. Are we going to have to explain to anybody where we got a seal?"
"From the sanctuary, obviously," Becky said, straight-faced, and went to rig a curtain for the tank.
* * *
It turned out having a real live seal in a tank was an excellent fundraiser.
It was also, a little to Ryan's surprise, excellent fun. He'd slipped in the back of the tank and shifted behind the curtain, and Becky had opened them with a flourish. Kids immediately appeared, as if out of nowhere, and Ryan swam around the tank, poking his nose at the palms they pressed against the windows, and blowing bubbles at them.
Through the water's thickening effect, he could hear Becky calling out that this was a half-hour show only, that the seal had come up from the sanctuary just to see them, but that a tank this small wasn't enough for an animal his size. Ryan turned flips and spun around, splashing water out of the tank with his tail and making the kids shriek.
The whole time, Missy Clark stayed right where he could see her, smiling proudly. People took pictures and dropped dollar bills or change into the donation jar, and Ryan heard Becky promising somebody that yes, they would be changing the water before tomorrow's dunk tank opened. Clearly the incident with Missy falling in had been all but forgotten.
After all too short a time, Missy tapped her wrist, indicating he'd better get out and change if they wanted to make the race. Becky told everyone the seal would be back tomorrow, maybe for longer, and pulled the curtain to a chorus of disappointment. Ryan climbed out the back of the tank, dripping wet, and nearly had a heart attack to see Noah Brannigan standing there, wide-eyed with interest.
Ryan, flustered, tried to think of an explanation, but Noah only grinned and put his fingertip to his lips. He whispered, "Shh," and then said, "You're gonna be late to the race and I'm gonna BEAT YOU!"
Ryan stared at him, somewhere between astonished and confused. "Are you blackmailing me, kid?"
Noah looked nonplussed. "What's blackmailing? I'm just gonna win the race! Don't be late!" He ran toward the race track, while Ryan clutched his chest, wheezed a few times, and went to dry off.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
"That kid," Ryan said to Missy after he came out of the changing room with a little fake orangutan fur stuck to him, "is he a menace, or just a force of nature?"
Missy blinked at him uncertainly as they hurried toward the race course. There had been a lot of kids in the last half hour, all of them thrilled to pieces to see a real live seal. Then she realized who he must mean, and shook her head. "Oh, Noah? He seems like a sweetie, actually. It's just that he thinks the world is his oyster. Why?"
"He saw me coming out of the tank and I think he…knew?"
"Knew? How could he—oooh!" Missy looked around, as if Noah's mother and stepfather might suddenly appear and verify her suspicion. "You know what, I wonder. Jake Rowly, Noah's stepfather, came back to town last year and everybody was all aflutter. I wonder if maybe he's a shifter too. Do you know if there are others in Virtue? Besides Becky, I mean?"
Ryan looked as if he held a brief, internal debate with himself before nodding. "There are. Quite a few, actually."
Somehow Missy wasn't surprised. "Then I bet you anything Jake is one, and that Noah's mom was his fated mate, because they fell really hard for each other, really fast. So I bet Noah knows about shifters. And if he does, well, he's kept his mouth shut. I don't think I'd worry about it."
"He also said he's going to beat us in the race."
Missy threw her head back and laughed out loud. "That," she said, "is probably true. I told you, I'm really bad at this kind of thing. The only thing I'm worse at is like, an egg race."
"Oh," Ryan said, amused. "That's too bad, because look at what the sign says." He pointed ahead of them as they reached the edge of the race track, and Missy read it aloud with a groan.
"The Three-Part Three-Legged Race. Part One: The Egg Race. Part Two: The Piggy-Back Race. Part Three: The Three-Legged Race. Oh, no. What has Becky gotten us into?!"
"We should do pretty well in the piggy-back race," Ryan said encouragingly. "You're smaller than me, and I'm pretty strong."
"That will not make up for the disaster that the other two parts are going to be," Missy said dismally, and Ryan grinned at her.
"I'm beginning to think you might be a little competitive."
"Oh, really?!" Missy straightened her shoulders. "It'll be fine. I'm sure it'll be fine."
"And Noah's going to beat us anyway."
Missy laughed. "Right."
A few minutes later they were at the starting line, in front of a long stretch of wooden fence. Or Missy was, at least. Ryan was halfway down the field, where he was supposed to take the egg from Missy, who would then run ahead to the finish line, where she would take the egg again, and Ryan would go to the middle of the field again, and she would run back to him.
"'Run' being all ill-advised word," she said to no one in particular, but the person next to her grinned.
"Walk very fast but very steadily," they suggested, and Missy nodded even as she made a face.
There were far more people in the race than she expected, like, fifty teams. She had no idea whether they would all go on to the next race, or if a certain time had to be beaten, or—"Welcome to the Three-Part Three-Legged Race!" a cheerful announcer boomed over the PA system. "Each race will be timed individually and the combined times will determine the winners, so don't despair if one leg goes badly! And remember, if you break your egg in the egg race, you have to go back to the start to get a new one!"
A laugh of despair went up from the long line of people Missy was part of. The announcer said, "Runners! Do you have your eggs?"
This time a cheer went up. Like everyone else, Missy held a teaspoon with an unboiled egg balanced in it. The announcer called, "On your marks! Get set! Go!" and the racers were off.
A whole bunch of eggs fell as soon as people started moving. Dismayed laughter rolled through the line as they turned back to get a new egg, and Missy crept ahead, trying to keep her shoulders relaxed so she wouldn't shake the egg off through tension alone. The person next to her was really good at this, and surged ahead while Missy, tongue stuck out with concentration, kept going at a fairly sedate pace.
She could hear people around here shouting in laughter and frustration as their eggs fell, although it seemed like an awful lot of people made it to the midway point, where they carefully handed their eggs off to their partners. Missy made it, did a happy little dance, and ran to the finish line to cheer Ryan from there.
He got within ten feet of the finish line when he tripped and the egg went soaring over Missy's head. She watched it until it splatted on the ground, and whipped a laughing look back toward Ryan. He'd cried out in horror as it flew into the air, but by the time she looked back, he was all the way back to the middle, getting a new egg. Missy, giggling, jumped up and down and cheered him.
The setback meant they
were way behind by the time Missy got the egg again, and she jounced it to the ground only a few steps in, howling, "Nooo!" as it fell. She ran to get another one, aware that the same thing was happening all around her, and this time made it to the middle point to hand the egg off again.
By the time Ryan crossed the original starting line, they were both laughing so hard they could barely stand up, but they'd finished somewhere in the middle of the pack. Ryan said, "I think we've got a chance!" and Missy dissolved into more giggles.
"How'd the Brannigans do?" She looked for Noah, who was also across the finish line and cheering with his mother. "Good for him."
"I was watching him," Ryan said happily. "He's really good at this. He and his mom both are. Maybe they've been practicing."
"Low centers of gravity," Missy said, indicating Noah's height. "Even Mabs is shorter than I am."
"Okay, we'll go with that." Ryan winked and Missy grinned.
It was another several minutes before everyone had finished, and there was a lot of dramatic collapsing on the ground and pathetic calls for water, but after a little while the announcer called, "Everybody back on your feet again! The piggy-back race is next! Now, I wanted to have both participants have to carry each other for part of the race—"
Noah Brannigan yowled, "Noooo!" in alarm, and laughter rippled through the contestants, and even from the announcer.
"But it was pointed out to me that this is an all-ages race," the announcer agreed, "and that it probably wasn't fair to expect six year olds to carry adults. Okay, like, whatever."
More laughter rushed through the crowd. "So the rules are this," the announcer said. "If you're part of an all-adult team, you do both have to carry each other for one leg of the race! If you're an adult-child team, the adult does all the carrying, back and forth again."
"Wait, back and forth?" Mabs Brannigan said in alarm. "Oh my God, Noah, you suckered me. I thought it was one way!"
Noah, down the row, gave his mother a huge cheesy grin that sent everybody into laughter again. A number of other adults with kids looked just as dismayed as Mabs Brannigan did, and Missy looked up at Ryan in faint horror. "I don't even know if I can lift you!"