“So what, Dad?”
He stopped on the shoulder down the road.
“So...” he answered Chelsea with exaggerated patience. “We can’t go in while they’re here or they’ll figure out who I am.”
Chelsea slumped in her seat and crossed her arms, becoming belligerent again, the camaraderie of this morning’s happy shopping trip gone.
“Why would that be bad?” she asked. “We could go in there right now and get everything cleared up. You could ask all your questions and they could answer them.”
“That’s not how things are done. In business, you hold your position until you have all of the facts. I don’t have those yet. I don’t have anything.” He banged his hand on the steering wheel. “You don’t let opponents know what you’re doing until it’s already done.”
“This isn’t business.”
“It sure is, sweetheart. Trust me. I know.”
“I don’t think you do,” she mumbled while Sam wished he were a fly on the wall inside his grandfather’s room.
What were those women telling him?
Chapter Five
Vy entered Carson Carmichael’s room with Rachel, Nadine and Max, and the newest addition to their team, Samantha Read.
He greeted them with his trademark crooked grin. “Ladies! Good to see you. It warms an old man’s heart to see such bright flowers on a gray day.”
Seeing Carson was a pure pleasure for Vy, she loved his quirky sense of humor, his intelligence and even his corny flirtation.
She handed him the cup of rice pudding with raisins that she’d brought for him, along with a spoon.
“Rice pudding! My favorite.”
She’d brought it knowing that. Lately, he’d been saying the same thing every time she visited. She frowned. He never used to repeat himself.
“Vy, you’re a doll.” He dug in right away.
She warned, “We have to get down to business right away. I have only an hour. Breakfast rush is over, but I can’t leave for too long on a Saturday. Will would kill me if I missed lunch service.”
“You’re the boss, not Will. He’s only your cook.” A spot of cream dribbled down Carson’s chin. Food stains dotted his sweater. Vy remembered a time when Carson dressed in gray snakeskin cowboy boots, a white Stetson and a pink string tie, the nattiest cowboy around. “Can’t you set your own hours?”
Vy wouldn’t wound his pride by wiping his chin, but she wanted to. In his better days, he would have hated to look like this. “Yep,” she responded, “But I’m a responsible boss. I don’t skip out on my cook on my busiest day. Let’s get down to business. Who wants to start?”
As coordinator of the amusement rides and the person responsible for bringing them up to code, Rachel spoke up first.
“We have sixty percent of the rides up and running. I already showed you photos of the carousel, Carson. You should see the teacup ride. It’s like something out of Alice in Wonderland.” She whipped out her cell phone. “Look. I took a couple of shots for you. Swipe like this to see them all.”
Carson took the phone in his veined hand and followed her instructions. His eyes turned moist.
“So damned beautiful. Pardon my language. Who painted it so nicely?”
“Zach Brandt.”
“Man’s got a lot of talent.”
“He sure does. Like all of us, he donated his services.”
At the mention of Zach, Nadine turned away to stare out the window.
A good guy who came into the diner regularly, Zach had sold Vy the paintings that hung on her walls. Why would the mention of his name spark tension in Nadine? At times like this, Vy regretted that she hadn’t grown up in town. She missed chunks of her friends’ backgrounds.
Of all five women, Nadine was the second-most private person of the group. First was Maxine, who was tight and often withdrawn.
On second thought, knowing the secrets Vy had kept from the girls, one in particular was a doozy, she couldn’t fault anyone else for not being forthcoming.
Rachel caught her phone just as it slipped from Carson’s fingers.
“We had to dismantle the Zipper.” Rachel tucked the phone into her purse. “It was just too far gone.”
“Zipper,” he murmured, but Vy got the impression he wasn’t sure what Rachel was talking about.
She and Rachel exchanged glances. They’d been worried about Carson and his faulty memory.
Vy moved the proceedings along. “Nadine, do you want to give a report?”
As secretary of the board, Nadine Campbell also handled advertising and promotion. She turned out as always with impeccable makeup, a curtain of long straightened red hair fell down her back.
It was naturally curly but Nadine disliked her curls.
“I’ll post ads in all of the papers in the major cities of the neighboring states,” Nadine said. “North and South Dakota, Nebraska, Wyoming, Colorado, Idaho, Washington and Oregon. I’d like to reach as many small towns as possible, too. It’s pricey, though. We’ll see how far the money goes.”
“I could—”
Nadine cut Carson off. “I don’t mean to be rude, but we can’t take your money. Keep your savings for yourself.”
Vy added, “You’ve done so much for us already by leasing the land to us so cheaply. We couldn’t do any of this without your cooperation. Your initial investment was crucial and started the ball rolling on fixing the rides. Taking only a small portion of the profits is risky. It doesn’t seem fair. What if we don’t make a profit? You’ll have made nothing and will have lost your initial investment.”
Again, Carson looked momentarily confused but then shrugged. “Then I’ll have made nothing. This event isn’t about me. It’s about bringing money into the town and creating jobs.”
He took a sip of water from a glass at his elbow. “The park and land were sitting there doing nothing for me, anyway. I got a lifetime of pleasure out of running it. Out of making people happy every summer.”
“You made me happy,” Rachel said. “Every year, it was one of my favorite childhood times.”
One of her few good ones, Vy thought, but didn’t voice aloud. Rachel’s memories were hers to share at her own discretion.
“I don’t mind the next generation taking over,” Carson said. “It pleases me to have y’all bring the park back to life.”
As one, they nodded.
Carson eased up on one hip and pulled his wallet out of his pocket. He counted his bills. It looked like about a hundred dollars.
Vy glanced around at all uneasily. What was he doing?
He took out a couple of ten-dollar bills and tried to hand them to Nadine.
“Carson,” she said. “I can’t take your money.”
“Buy more ads. Get more people.”
Oh, Carson, thought Vy, what’s happening to you? He had no idea how little twenty dollars was worth where advertising was concerned. But he must have known at one time. He used to advertise.
She curled her fingers around Carson’s. “Thank you, but put your money away. You’ve given us so much already. We’ll take over from here.”
Carson tucked the money back into his billfold, but then took it all back out, counted his bills twice and then put it back away. Only then did he slide the wallet back into his pocket.
With a worried frown, Vy turned to Max. “How about you? How are your plans coming along?”
Maxine Porter, self-conscious and quiet, shifted where she leaned against the doorway.
“Carson, you ran the rodeo for years and I appreciated how much fun it was,” Max started, “but I want to do something different with this new incarnation of the fair.” As determinedly unfeminine as Max was, her voice always came as a shock, both husky and smoky.
She shoved her hand
s into her front pockets and hunched her shoulders up around her ears. Max hated being the center of attention.
Carson turned to her with interest. “Different how?”
“I want to temper how hard the traditional rodeo is on the animals. First off, I want to cut out bull riding.”
Carson’s brows nearly hit his receding hairline. “Bull riding’s popular. You’ll disappoint both the riders and the audience.”
“Not if I offer something different that’s entertaining.”
“But what, Maxine?”
She shuffled her feet, which meant only one thing to Vy. Max might be quiet, but she had strong opinions and a stronger backbone. Without meeting anyone’s eyes, another sign she had funny business in mind, she said, “Um... I’m thinking really strange entertainment, like camel racing.”
What? “Max, we need this rodeo to be a success,” Vy said faintly. She’d thought they’d dissuaded her from doing anything rash.
Honey, Rachel and Nadine groaned. Samantha, still new to the group, maintained a neutral expression—almost. The slightest frown marred a Marilyn Monroe–perfect face.
“Camel...?” Carson leaned forward, jaw jutting. “Are you loco? That ain’t no Wild West animal. You’ll have a revolt on your hands from all the cowboys expecting to take part in a real rodeo. Why would you go so strange?”
Max hunched her shoulders, defensive at the drop of a hat, as always. “You did.”
“What do you mean? I ran a traditional rodeo.”
Max gestured toward the phone Rachel still held in her hand. “Look at the animals in the photos of the carousel. Your ancestor didn’t just stick to ponies. He used elk and bulls and bighorn sheep. White-tailed deer! Who puts elk and deer on a carousel ride? The park has a tradition of bucking tradition.”
Carson covered his face with one palm. “This might be too far from the norm.”
Max nodded. “I know, but I want a chance to try. Consider the entertainment value for families.”
“Yep. It would be funny. Who’re you going to get to ride them, though? You know most cowboys have more pride than to wrangle a camel, for God’s sake.”
“I know, but...” Max sighed. She’d had this argument already with all of them. They hadn’t supported her. Now Carson withheld support, too.
“You can’t do this, Max.” Vy’s voice as strained as her patience, she continued, “We have to make money this year. If we don’t succeed, there won’t be any more to follow. The town needs money. Our youth need jobs.”
Max lifted her belligerent little chin. “I know that, Vy.” She glared at all of them. “This will work. Why won’t you trust me?”
“Because it’s too different,” Honey said quietly, the peacemaker trying to bring them back onto an even keel with her reasonable tone.
But Vy knew there was no reasoning with Maxine.
“Let’s move on,” Vy said, voice tight. They couldn’t have this fight in Carson’s room. With one hard-edged look at Max, she let her know the issue wasn’t settled, not by a long shot. “Samantha, how do the finances look?”
Vy hated to ask. They were chronically short of money.
“Not good. We have to do a lot more fund-raising. Much of the work of restoring the amusement park is being done by volunteers, but not all.”
Samantha opened her laptop. “Any work that needs to be inspected by the state has to be done by professionals, i.e. electrical, mechanical, plumbing, and we have to pay for that. It’s pricey. As Nadine mentioned, advertising is expensive.”
“Food will be, too,” Vy added. “I’ll have to order mountains of food. I don’t know how we’ll come up with the cash we’ll need.”
“Presales of tickets,” Samantha said. “They’re slow right now. We’re selling to locals only. With the strength of the park’s past reputation, we can sell more, but it depends on how far people are willing to travel for rides and food.” She glanced at Max. “And the rodeo.”
Max stomped out of the room.
“Maxine!” Vy called. “Don’t be like that. Come back.”
She didn’t.
“Sorry.” Samantha closed her laptop.
Uptight and overwhelmed, Vy said, “Not your fault. Once Max gets ideas, she plows through. She doesn’t have a clue how to change a course once she’s started on it.”
Thank goodness they stood in the relative privacy of Carson’s room. It would have been awful if other townspeople had witnessed it. They needed to present a united front so people would have faith in the fair and rodeo.
“Let’s talk about food,” Samantha said, “so I’ll have a better idea of costs there. What ideas have you come up with, Vy?”
Vy forced her thoughts away from Max and the possibility that she might screw up this entire operation. Her stomach cramped. “I thought we could do a fifties’ theme, since that’s what I’m used to cooking in the diner. People respond well to nostalgia. If you don’t mind, Carson, I’d like to pick your brain about the kinds of things you used to sell back then.”
“Corn dogs, hot dogs, burgers, candy floss. The usual amusement-park fare,” Carson answered.
Vy nodded. “That’s what I thought. I’ll serve that kind of thing for nostalgic value but will update all of those, make them more sophisticated. People want higher-end food.”
“Even rural communities?” Samantha asked.
“You’ve eaten in the diner. You’ve seen how I’ve updated everything. The townspeople love it. Not one person has ever come up to me and said, ‘Make your mac and cheese bland like it used to be. Stop using that sharp white cheddar you order from Canada.’ They like the bacon and jalapeños I add, too.”
“But is it just that everyone local is used to your food?” Honey asked.
“I don’t think so. Look at the proliferation of TV shows about cooking. Everybody watches Food Network. The other day, Lester Voile asked me to try a recipe idea he saw on Chopped. Said he didn’t want to cook it at home but would eat it in the diner. Lester! Watching Food Network!”
“How will you handle the food during the fair?” Carson snapped to his old role of boss as though he’d never left. “Who’ll do the cooking? Who’ll serve?”
“I’ve given it a lot of thought. Fortunately, the fair will be only a week long, but that week will cover two weekends, when we will be the busiest.”
Carson nodded.
“I’ve already put out the word that I’ll need employees for that week as well as the week before. As expected, I’ve received a lot of job requests from teenagers. It’s good for them. Many will make money to take away to college with them.”
“That’s good.”
“It is, Carson, but the downside is that they have no experience with cooking, especially not for crowds. People are emotional about food. It needs to be cooked properly and served hot or cold as the case may be.”
“Yep. Good points. So?”
“So I’ve approached several of the older women in town to manage all of these young people. They are excellent cooks and have already raised teenagers so they’ll know how to deal with them.”
“Sounds like a fine idea. I had half a dozen concession booths when I ran the fair. Large ones. Found I needed every one of them. You will, too, especially if you get a good turnout.”
“We’re being optimistic and assuming we’ll have excellent attendance.”
“You can judge your food needs by ticket sales,” Honey interrupted, “but there could be nearly as many people who just show up without a prepurchased ticket. It’s a tough call, Vy. How much food should you have on hand? How much will get sold? How much will go to waste?”
Vy rubbed her forehead. She’d never taken on such a big project in her life. “None of it will go to waste. Whatever doesn’t get eaten will go to the townspeople.”
“I know,” Vy snapped, then reeled in her temper. Nadine only articulated what Vy already knew. “I’m sorry, Nadine. I shouldn’t have been rude, but I worry.”
“I know you do, Vy, which is why we’re having this discussion. To figure out how to deal with potential problems. I have it easy with promotion. I’ll spend only what I’m given. You, on the other hand, have to spend money on food that might not get sold. How can we make sure you don’t lose money on the fair?”
“Good question,” Carson said. “It wasn’t so bad for me. I’d done it for years and ordered food each year according to what I’d sold the year before. But this is brand-new. It’s been too many years since I held the fair. Will there be interest? Won’t there?”
It was good to hear Carson back to his old sharp self. The thought had only just entered Vy’s mind when he took his wallet out of his pocket again, counted his bills and then slipped it back away.
What on earth?
“We can’t predict success,” Rachel said quietly, ignoring Carson’s actions. “We can only make our best guesses and hope we get it right.”
“Last, but not least,” Vy said, “Samantha has agreed to set up an operating budget for us. Another tough job.”
“I can only do that,” Samantha said, “if you can all give me projections of how much you’ll need. I can tell you what we have right now from the two fund-raising dances.” She named a figure that was impressive.
“The townspeople were generous,” Nadine said. “Some bought ten or twelve tickets to the dances even when they were using only one or two. Honey provided all of the beer and liquor at cost, so all sales were pure profit. Thank you, Honey.”
“It was my pleasure. You know I’m happy to make whatever contribution I can. Here’s the thing, though. While that sounds like a lot of money, it’s still depressingly low for putting on an event of this size.”
Nods all around confirmed that everyone had been thinking the same thing.
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