I blinked again. “You knew Virgil better than you mentioned when we were playing poker?”
“Nope, it’s just something I noticed is all.”
A thread of defensiveness ran through me. I felt protective of my “almost friend” Virgil. Was Jerry making fun of him? I shook it off.
“Who are the brothers, the ones who apparently own the fair?” I asked just as Dianna came out from behind the curtain.
Jerry looked at her and then said, “I don’t know. I’ve asked the same question. I have no idea. Hey, Dianna, how about a cold one—oh, no, I’m driving to Monson. Just a Coke, then?”
“Sure thing,” she said.
“Hey, I might have a job,” Jerry said. “At Becca’s farmers’ market.”
“That right?” Dianna avoided looking at anyone as she pulled out a can, popped it open, poured it, and put the glass in front of Jerry. “Good luck with that.”
“Thank you.”
What an odd woman, I thought.
Dianna must have had more to do behind the curtain because she disappeared again. I asked Jerry what he knew about Virgil’s personal life, if he knew whether Virgil had been dating anyone, but he didn’t have any answers. No other customers came in to motivate Dianna to show herself, so once Jerry excused himself to the now available pinball machine, Ian and I decided it was time to explore more of the town.
The bright glare of the sun blinded us momentarily as we made our way over the gravel lot to Ian’s truck.
The sound that came from the side of the building, the skinny slot between the bar and the hat store, was a distinct “psssst.”
Ian and I turned toward the sound.
Dianna was wedged into the small space. “Hurry. Come here,” she whispered loudly.
Ian and I looked at each other and then did as she’d asked.
“You don’t want Jerry at the farmers’ market,” she said.
“I don’t understand. Why not?” I asked.
“Trust me. Now go away and don’t tell anyone what I told you. You need to just get out of Orderville. And mind your own business.”
I thought about following her as she turned, sidestepped her way back down the narrow alley, and then reentered her building through a back door, but I quickly dismissed the idea. She’d wanted to make sure she talked to us secretly. If I betrayed that trust, I might put her in some sort of jeopardy.
“You’re not going down there, are you?” Ian asked.
“No.” I shook my head. “But that got my attention.”
“We’re not going to leave town and mind our own business either, are we?”
I shook my head again. “I don’t think so. Not yet.”
Seventeen
There wasn’t much more of Orderville to explore. Down the road from the bar was the “downtown,” if you could even call it that. I’d traveled through my share of small towns, but Orderville put a new spin on the whole idea.
Only five buildings occupied the strip: a post office, a diner, a VFW post, a yarn shop, and finally a drugstore—the sign said “Drugstore,” not “Pharmacy.”
I didn’t see a police station—or any other government buildings, for that matter, aside from the post office—or a library or a bookstore. I didn’t even see a grocery store. As I looked around, I wished I’d noticed earlier whether the sign on the way into town listed the population.
“I don’t know why people live here,” I said.
“I don’t even see neighborhoods. It just looks like a lot of farm country,” Ian commented.
“Where do people go for their groceries?”
“Maybe Monson, I don’t know,” Ian said. “Should we grab lunch from the diner? Could be kind of fun, and since you’re not ready to mind your own business, it’ll give us something to do.”
“Good plan.”
Combined with Dianna’s strange behavior, the old town’s desertedness made me uneasy; even in the bright sun of the middle of the day, the place felt spooky. When Ian turned off his truck, I expected to hear a suspicious quiet, interrupted perhaps by the distant sound of wind whistling through some mysterious chasm somewhere, or maybe even a scream.
But that’s not what we heard. Instead, there was the far-off rumble of an engine, probably a tractor working a field, and the laughter of a group of kids who had just rounded the corner and were hurrying down the street, though I didn’t know to what. They passed the buildings and then turned out of view.
“Are we in the twilight zone?” I asked Ian as we watched the kids.
“I don’t know,” he said, far too honestly.
The diner wasn’t spooky, though. In fact, it was cheery.
“Hey, hey,” said a round woman from behind the long counter. “Y’all find a seat anywhere there’s one to be found.”
The diner had only about twenty tables, half of them already occupied by customers who didn’t pay us much attention.
We took a couple seats at the counter and had our sandwiches ordered in record time.
As she was filling our waters, Liz, the waitress and hostess, asked, “Y’all traveling through?”
“We were hoping to visit the fair, but it looks like it got shut down,” Ian said. “Too bad.”
I was suddenly very proud of him. Good answer.
“Shoot, that was a scary moment. The roller coaster about went flying off the track and nearly killed everyone. There was already someone who died a couple days ago. Ask me, the place should have never been opened in the first place. Death trap.”
“Really?” I said. “Then why was it opened?”
“It was tradition. It’s what we did. Swayton County comes together for the fair. The fair brings . . . brought us together. It’s a shame, though, a sad shame.”
At least she didn’t mention the gypsy magic. I said, “I bet the owners are upset about losing the income.”
“Nah, those boys couldn’t care less. They’ve got money up the wazoo, they don’t need more. I think they’re probably more worried about being sued at this point.” Liz’s eyes suddenly got big. “Dang, I shouldn’t be talking like that. I’ve got to learn to keep my mouth shut.”
“What boys, who?” I asked, hopefully before she took her own advice.
“The Bellings boys. Everyone knows them, don’t they?” She laughed. “I know, I know, people not from around these parts wouldn’t know the Bellings boys from Adam and Evan, but we all know them. Oh, excuse me, I’ve got to get some coffee out to the thirsty throng.”
Bellings boys. Jena Bellings. Well, at least those parts of the puzzle were beginning to come together.
“She answered that easily,” Ian said quietly. “She didn’t think a thing of it. Gave you another link to the gypsy woman Jerry talked about, too. She must have been something.”
I nodded. I had to bite my tongue to keep from sharing the story I’d heard from my mother. “I bet they really are afraid of being sued. Maybe they told everyone not to give out their name. I don’t know. We need to find out who they are.”
“At least we have a place to start now.”
My grilled ham and cheese was perfect, buttery and melty but with nice crispy bread. The fries were skinny and crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside, just the way I liked them. I tried to enjoy the meal, but I couldn’t help myself from looking around and wondering who else I could talk to or who I could ask about the Bellings brothers.
It was because of my constant and less-than-furtive glances that I happened to be looking out the front window just as Scott walked—no, sauntered—by. He had his hands in his pockets, and though I couldn’t hear him, it was obvious he was whistling.
“Uhm, pay en go,” I said around my mouth full of food. What I’d meant was, “Put some money on the counter and let’s go.”
“E
xcuse me?”
“Scott!” I said after I swallowed. “Scott just walked by. Let’s go see what he’s doing.”
“Your second ex-husband?”
“Yep.”
“I’m game.”
Ian left money on the counter and we hurried out of the diner, probably looking like we were dining and dashing, but no one stopped us.
The door closed behind us just as Scott turned the corner, the same corner the kids had turned. I still couldn’t hear him whistling.
We scurried behind. If anyone was watching us, they’d surely think we were up to no good, but still no one questioned or stopped us.
We both slowed as we reached the corner, then peered around it together, Ian’s dark ponytail hitting the top of my blonde head, and spied a whole new world.
Just behind the tired small strip of downtown, was life and civilization.
We saw another service station, this one a little more modern, with a couple gas pumps and a building big enough to sell staples like bread and milk, and snacks and soft drinks. It was set back from where we stood about half a football field; two other roads, unnoticeable from where we’d come into town, led up to it. Next to the first building was a four-bay garage, each bay occupied by either a car or a truck. I counted five guys, including Scott, who were inside the bays, presumably working on the vehicles. Perhaps there were even more people hidden behind lifted hoods, but we couldn’t be sure.
“He told me he’s an EMT,” I said aloud, though I was talking to myself more than to Ian. “Why is he still in town, this town, and at a garage?”
“He might not be working there. He might just be visiting people. Maybe one of the vehicles is his.”
“Why? What’s he doing in Orderville, South Carolina, Ian? Who does he know? Why did he set up a shooting gallery at the fair? He told me he was just here for the fair, but that doesn’t make sense. He’s up to something, and I want to know what it is,” I said. “Let’s go.”
We stepped out from behind the building and walked purposefully toward the bay that Scott was in. He stood next to a brown pickup talking to a guy in a work jumpsuit who was leaning against the front of it. They looked comfortable with each other, as if they knew each other well.
“He’s blond. I never would have pegged you for liking blonds,” Ian joked quietly as we marched forward.
“Well, both he and the other Scott were blond. I must have learned my lesson,” I joked back. Ian’s dark coloring was a sharp contrast to the fair complexions and near towheadedness of both of my ex-husbands.
I didn’t have time to dwell on it, but I enjoyed the lighthearted joking with him. It wasn’t as if we’d suddenly and magically fixed our relationship; but we were having a good time together, without the shadows of whatever I’d done to create a strain between us. As strange as Orderville might be, the change of scenery felt good.
“I see.” Ian smiled. “Oops, looks like he saw us.”
Scott had casually glanced in our direction, but it took a second, neck-jerking look before he realized who we were, or who I was, at least.
When the flash of recognition hit his eyes, it mixed with something else. It was as if he was surprised, then concerned, but he quickly covered it all with a forced smile.
“Becca,” he said too exuberantly as he came out of the bay. “What’re you doing here?”
“Lunch,” I said. “At the diner. What are you doing here? Why are you still in town?”
Scott wasn’t a liar. He was always and sometimes annoyingly honest, so when he attempted to lie at that moment, even Ian could see through it, and they hadn’t even met yet.
“I, uh—just helping people get packed up. I told you yesterday that I was going to stick around.”
He had, but still.
“Hey, how ya doin’? I’m Scott,” Scott said as he extended his hand to Ian.
“Ian Cartwright.”
“Nice to meet you. You know, Becca and I used to be married.” Scott was working too hard at changing the subject.
“She mentioned that.” Ian smiled.
“I was the good Scott. The other one, not so much.” Even when he was being annoying, Scott could still be kind of charming.
Ian smiled again. “Well, she hasn’t gone into those details, but good to know.”
“Hey, lookee here, it’s a party,” Scott said as he peered over my shoulder.
Ian and I turned at once.
If I hadn’t kissed him a few months earlier, I might have been thrilled to see Sam Brion walking toward us. However, since I had thrown myself at him and that one act had tipped every personal relationship I had in a wonky direction, and because Ian was with me, I wasn’t all that excited to see Sam give me a semiapologetic glance as he stepped surely up to us.
I didn’t know if Ian and Sam had seen each other recently, but I knew they hadn’t done so with me present. I wanted to kick my stupid self.
It didn’t register with me that I’d made any sort of noise until a few seconds after I’d made it, at which point I realized I’d just let loose what sounded like a cross between a groan of pain and a gasp of panic.
Ian cleared his throat.
“Sam, thanks for meeting me,” Scott said. “You must have come in on the main road. To get to the garage back here, you have to take a few side streets. Come on, I’ll help you.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it. Ian, Becca,” Sam said as he shook Ian’s hand.
“Good to see you, Sam,” Ian replied sincerely.
“A guy here does amazing things with old Mustang engines,” Scott said to me. “I told Sam he should bring his car here.”
By the way Scott seemed to want to explain Sam’s arrival, I suspected that the two of them had discussed more than car engines. He had been lying, and he had been uncomfortable because he knew that Sam was about to show up. I didn’t know how much Scott knew about me and Ian and Sam, or how much Sam had shared—or why he would share anything at all—but the moment was most definitely awkward.
“We’ll be right back,” Scott said as he escorted Sam back in between the buildings and presumably to his car.
I looked at Ian. I had no idea what to say.
“It’s okay, Becca. Sam and I were . . . are friends. We’re going to get along just fine. We needed to get this moment over with, don’t you think?”
I still didn’t know what to say.
“Hey, did you see the sign?” Ian said as he nodded toward the pumps.
Glad for the diversion, I turned again. “Oh, that’s a good discovery. Come on, let’s see what we can find out before they get back.”
The sign said “Bellings Bros. Tires and Service.”
As we hurried toward the store part of the station, I decided I’d have to think about running away if my other Scott showed up. And if my dance date from junior high school also appeared, I’d probably have to just commit to a life of being single so I wouldn’t ever have to face one these embarrassing moments again.
Eighteen
Hal wasn’t as friendly as Liz. The kids we’d watched earlier were still in the station’s larger-than-I’d-thought shopping area, noisily deciding on which kind of candy and soda they wanted, or at least had enough money to purchase. From his spot behind the counter, Hal, according to the name embroidered on his bright blue shirt, kept one suspicious eye on the kids and the other, equally suspicious eye on us.
We were strangers in town, and we were asking about the name on the sign. Who were the Bellings brothers? I was sure Hal wondered why we cared and why we wanted to make our curiosity his problem.
Finally, after he rang up two customers and we saw Sam’s Mustang roll into one of the bays, Hal said, “They’re the owners.”
“Of the service station and the fair?” I asked.
Hal nodded.
“Do they ever come in here?”
“No.”
“Do they have offices anywhere? I’d like to meet them,” I said.
“Why?”
The question kind of stumped me. I wanted to meet them just because I wanted to meet them. I wanted to better understand this small Stephen King–ish town. I wanted to know why they’d let their fair gates open with the rides in the condition they’d been in. I had a bunch of questions.
“I’d like to talk to them about a farmers’ market idea. I hear they are thinking of putting one in town.” At least it rang somewhat true.
Hal shifted his weight from one foot to the other, a move that seemed to reposition him a good three feet to his right.
“A farmers’ market, huh?”
“Yeah. A few fellow market vendors and I set up temporary stalls at the fair. We got some decent business. Maybe there’s a good spot for a market in Orderville, maybe not, but I think the Bellings brothers would like to hear my take on it.”
“If anyone would, I suppose they would,” Hal seemed to tell himself.
The group of kids had decided on their treats, and they crowded up to the counter, forcing Ian and me to step back or be trampled by little feet. As Hal rang them up, we waited, attempting to look like we were being patient. Our new position gave me a clear view of the bays and the pumps. At first I didn’t notice Scott and Sam, because they’d moved away from the bays and were standing on the edge of the station’s property. They seemed to be deep in discussion, but not about a car. Scott was doing most of the talking, and Sam was doing most of the listening, his hands on his hips and his face ever-serious.
“Yeah, yeah, see you tomorrow. Can’t wait,” Hal mumbled as the kids gathered their booty and left the station. We stepped forward again.
“You know, a farmers’ market sounds like a good plan. I guess I could call the Bellings brothers and tell them you’d like to talk to them.”
I’d noticed that the Bellings brothers were always mentioned together, as one. No one had given up either of their first names, and no one seemed to want to talk about just one of them.
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