Death Rides a Pony, page 5
Jocelyn didn’t object further as Hope lifted the velvet from her lap and Summer handed her a cup of water.
‘It’s more tepid than cool,’ Summer said regretfully. ‘There’s no ice.’
‘I’ll take it regardless. Thank you.’
As Jocelyn put the cup to her mouth, Hope saw how heavily both her hand and her lips were shaking. Hope was about to ask her if she really was all right and if there was anything else they could do to help her, but Morris burst back into the booth in the same instant.
‘Success!’ he declared. ‘And look who I found in the process!’
Under his right arm, Morris held an oscillating fan. With his left arm, he ushered two people into the booth with him. One was a stranger to Hope. The other was not. Hope’s breath caught in her throat when she saw him. It was Morris’s son, Dylan.
She had first met Dylan Henshaw shortly after Morris’s back surgery, when Dylan – also a doctor – had taken a temporary leave of absence from his job at a prestigious university hospital in California to assist in treating his father’s patients. As Morris had gradually regained his strength and mobility, allowing him to increase his working hours, Dylan had started shuttling between his father’s office and his own. For the past month, he had been exclusively in California. Hope hadn’t known that he had returned to Asheville.
Based on Dylan’s appearance, at least some of his time in California had been spent outdoors, and it had visibly agreed with him. There were bright streaks in his thick, sandy hair. A smattering of long-forgotten childhood freckles were detectable on his sun-kissed cheeks and nose. Set against the rosy hint of a tan, Dylan’s pale blue eyes had turned to azure. He looked fit and healthy and even more self-possessed than usual.
‘What a fabulous surprise!’ Morris chattered excitedly. ‘Dylan has come back just in time for the festival. I had no idea that you were on your way! You should have let me know about your flight. I would have gone to the airport to meet you.’
‘It was a last-minute decision,’ Dylan explained, in a much calmer fashion than his father. ‘I landed only a few hours ago, and there was no need to meet me. I rented a car as I have in the past and checked into the hotel – Amethyst, also the same as in the past – and then I went to the office to look for you. There is a matter that I’d like to discuss.’
‘But you shouldn’t stay in a hotel,’ Morris protested. ‘You should be at the house with Olivia and me. We love having you there. Isn’t that right, Olivia?’
Although Gram inclined her head and started to respond in the affirmative, Morris went on before she could get out a word.
‘You were saying something about a matter that you’d like to discuss? We could discuss it now, or …’
‘There’s no rush.’ Dylan gave a leisurely shrug. ‘We have plenty of time for that later on. I believe there are more pressing concerns to be dealt with. I ran into Larkin at the office.’ He gestured toward the other person that Morris had ushered into the booth.
It took only one glance at Larkin for Hope to know that Gram was right and Morris was wrong. Larkin was neither barely twenty nor a girl. She was on the older side of twenty-five and in every respect carried herself as a woman. Her styled brown hair had expensive chestnut highlights. She wore full make-up that had been applied with an experienced hand. One button too many was left open on her turquoise blouse, revealing more than a hint of lace underneath. Likewise, her tissue paper-thin white pants and matching turquoise high heels were a questionable choice for a professional office. But there was no question that Larkin was a striking woman, and from the way she focused her gaze on Dylan and Morris and Stanley – and only on them – it was clear that she wanted men to be struck by her.
‘I’m so glad that you’ve met Larkin,’ Morris said to Dylan. ‘We’re very lucky to have her. She’s popular with the patients, and in just two short weeks, she’s already begun a much-needed overhaul of the old filing system.’
‘Three weeks,’ Larkin corrected him. ‘I’ve been at the office for three weeks now.’ She turned toward Dylan, at the same time moving a step closer to him. ‘I started just after you left for California. I’ve heard a great deal about you, of course, and I must confess that you aren’t at all what I expected.’
The leisurely shrug became a leisurely smile. ‘I hope you’re not too disappointed.’
‘Oh, no. Not in the least.’ Larkin returned the smile with sparkling white teeth. ‘I think we’ll work beautifully together.’
Summer made a little choking noise. Hope didn’t need to look at her sister to know what she was thinking, because she was thinking it, too: Larkin was a flirt.
The sound must have been loud enough for Dylan to hear, because his attention abruptly shifted to them. His gaze flitted over Summer, then landed firmly on Hope. He didn’t formally greet her. Nor did she greet him. For a long minute, they simply looked at each other.
Dylan spoke first. ‘This was what I meant before when I said there were more pressing concerns to be dealt with. I heard from Larkin that a certain fortune teller was missing her crystal ball.’
There was undisguised amusement in his azure eyes, and Hope’s green eyes narrowed in response.
Larkin laughed. ‘Yes, the crystal ball. I had forgotten all about it.’ She held up a canvas tote bag that sagged under the weight of its contents. ‘Who here is the fortune teller?’
Hope didn’t answer. Her gaze remained locked with Dylan’s.
‘I’ll take that from you,’ Gram volunteered.
Relinquishing custody of the bag, Larkin said, ‘I don’t really believe in fortune tellers. But my stepmom sure does. A fortune teller once told her that a fortune would shortly fall into her lap. That’s why she spends the entire day sitting in front of the television. She’s afraid that if she stands up, the fortune will fall when she doesn’t have a lap to catch it.’
Larkin laughed again, evidently greatly entertained by her own wit. There was a light, polite chuckle from one or two of the others in the group, but not from Hope. Her eyes narrowed further. Dylan, in turn, appeared even more amused.
‘Well, it was a pleasure to meet all of you.’ Larkin directed her attention back to Dylan. She was now not so much standing next to him as leaning against him. ‘I’m famished, and I remember you telling me at the office that you hadn’t eaten lunch. So you can take me to dinner. I know the perfect little place …’
Summer made another choking noise. This time Larkin must have heard the sound, because just before she once more smiled up at Dylan, she flashed Summer a venomous look. Dylan didn’t see it, but Hope did. And she knew what it meant. Larkin wasn’t only a flirt. She intended to make a conquest.
FIVE
Larkin’s perfect little dinner place was left unnamed, because a moment later, there was a bustle at the entrance to the booth that proved impossible to ignore. The festival had opened to the public, and eager ticketholders began arriving at the burgundy velvet curtains in droves. Whether it was due to the glitter on the banner, Rosemarie Potter’s advance publicity, or the irresistible desire to glean a hint about one’s future, Madam Bailey, Fortune Teller turned out to be an instantaneous hit.
‘People are coming!’ Gram cried, pulling the crystal ball from its bag and thrusting it on the table.
Morris peeped through the gap in the front curtains. ‘And they’re lining up faster than ants at a picnic!’
Amelia handed Summer a cardboard box that had been wrapped in crinkly gold paper with a matching ribbon on top like a fancy birthday present. ‘This is for the tickets. Just push them through the slot in the side. Remember, it’s five for your booth. You’ll probably encounter a few penny-pinchers who’ll claim they only have two tickets left and don’t want to buy more. Don’t let them get away with it. Remind them it’s for charity.’
‘Hurry,’ Gram admonished the group. ‘Hurry!’
With the aid of the partially completed cords, Jocelyn managed to fasten up the back curtains to make a rear exit. Stanley carried out the ladder and a tool chest. Jocelyn carried out her sewing kit and a bundle of unused fabric. Amelia carried out herself.
Morris fumbled with the electrical cable that was used by the twinkle lights, but the stiff muscles in his back wouldn’t allow him to stretch sufficiently. ‘Dylan, help me hook the fan into the connecting plug.’
Dylan reached up and attached the fan. Morris promptly switched it on. There was a collective sigh of relief at the welcome breeze.
‘That feels good,’ Morris said, positioning himself directly in front of the fan.
Dylan took a gusty spot next to his father. ‘I agree. Forget dinner. I’ll just stand here for the rest of the evening.’ The corners of his mouth curled with a hint of a smile. ‘Plus, there will be entertainment. We can watch the fortune teller in action.’
Hope, who was setting up the crystal ball, threw him an irritated glance.
‘No, no.’ Gram herded Morris away from the fan with her cane. ‘You’ll have to find another fan elsewhere.’ Then she herded Dylan. ‘And you can enjoy the air conditioning while sitting in a restaurant.’
‘Yes, exactly,’ Larkin concurred, once again sidling up to Dylan. ‘You’re taking me to dinner. No arguments.’
Dylan’s answer was lost to Hope, because Gram succeeded in steering the stragglers out of the booth.
‘Goodbye, my dears!’ She turned and waved to her granddaughters. ‘Good luck!’
‘Fortune favors the bold!’ Dylan chimed in, his voice brimming with laughter.
Hope was tempted to favor Dylan with a few choice words in response, but she didn’t have the chance. He was already too far outside, and duty – in the form of a crystal ball – called. The crystal ball turned out to be a cheap plasma globe that was clear white and not the least bit mystical in appearance. When its surface was touched, violet sparks of lightning shot through the interior. It looked like a cross between a kindergarten science experiment and an inane party trick. When Hope demonstrated it to her sister, Summer rolled her eyes and muttered something about Larkin’s brain being equally vacuous. Hope wasn’t so sure. Although based only on a single first impression, she was of the opinion that Larkin might be rather clever, at least in a manipulative fashion. Morris seemed fully convinced of her wonderfulness. Whether Dylan would be similarly persuaded was yet to be seen.
Thankfully, Larkin’s poor excuse for a crystal ball wasn’t necessary for the success of the booth. Only the youngest children were interested in it, and they were the easiest to please. All Hope had to do was prophesy that a frozen treat and a ride on the carousel were in their future, and they were thrilled. She let them touch the globe to see the sparks, and after half a dozen sets of sticky fingers had coated its surface with the residue of hot dogs and potato chips, Hope stopped touching it herself.
The adults were a mixed bag. Some sought winning lottery numbers. Others sought winning sports teams. A sizable number wanted to know if their significant other was cheating on them. An even greater number wanted to know if they themselves could get away with cheating. A small percentage was interested in astrological signs. A tiny percentage was interested in auras. There were no true readings of any sort. Hope found herself functioning mostly as a sympathetic, non-judgmental ear, listening patiently to each person’s litany of problems. She was used to doing that from the boutique.
All in all, as the evening wore on, the unrelenting stream of ticketholders was exhausting, especially with the oppressive warmth of the booth that was only slightly ameliorated by the breeze from the fan. When it was Rosemarie Potter’s turn to enter, Hope greeted her and pug Percy with a weary smile.
‘At last!’ Rosemarie cried in triumph. ‘We finally made it inside! I was on pins and needles the whole time. Everybody who came out looked so happy and was saying such nice things about you.’
Knowing that a visit from Rosemarie was never a brief affair, Summer announced with an apology to those still waiting in line that the booth needed to take a short refreshment break, then she drew the front curtains closed and sank into one of the velvet-draped chairs across the table from Hope. She plopped the ticket box next to the crystal ball. ‘I need to sit. My feet are killing me.’
‘Mine, too.’ Rosemarie took a neighboring seat. True to form, she was wearing a billowy white sundress dotted with miniature sprigs of red roses. The shade of the roses was almost identical to the shade of her hair. ‘I put on my fanciest sandals for the occasion, but they pinch like the dickens.’ She reached down and rubbed her fingers under the matching red straps to relieve the pressure. ‘I’m getting a blister along the back. I can feel it. Would you consider me terribly rude if I took them off?’
‘Not at all,’ Hope assured her. ‘Go right ahead. A bunch of the kids were running around barefoot in here, and none of them seemed to have any troubles. The grass has been cut short for the festival, so I don’t think you need to worry about stepping on anything that could bite or sting.’
Rosemarie removed the sandals with a grateful exhalation. She set them carefully next to her chair, avoiding any unnecessary contact with grass or dirt. ‘Davis likes this pair. I don’t want them to get stained.’
Hope hesitated, unsure whether to feign polite interest in Davis’s present whereabouts or simply ignore the subject of him.
‘It’s my own fault,’ Rosemarie went on. ‘I should have known that I’d be walking and standing in line most of the time. Speaking of which, the turnout for the festival has been fantastic! And your booth is a huge hit! Only the carousel and the Popsicle wagon have more people waiting.’
Summer turned to her sister with a wry grin. ‘Mark this day on the calendar, Hope. Our dreams have now officially come true, and our lives can be considered complete. We’re almost as popular as the Popsicle wagon.’
Hope laughed, and Percy offered a little yip.
Summer looked at him. ‘You’d probably prefer a Popsicle, too, wouldn’t you?’
‘Goodness, no.’ Rosemarie shook her head. ‘Don’t tempt him by even mentioning it. If he eats or drinks one more thing, he’ll get a stomachache and be howling all night. He’s had at least a gallon of water and a pound of food in the last hour.’
‘I can see the water,’ Hope said. ‘Your scarf is wet, Percy.’
Rosemarie had wrapped the black-and-white chevron-patterned scarf that she had purchased at the boutique around Percy’s neck like a bandana. The bottom portion on his chest was noticeably damp, no doubt from sagging into a bowl as he had been drinking. Hope found herself a bit envious. The wet fabric was probably cooling him nicely. She wouldn’t have minded a damp towel on her neck.
‘Doesn’t he look dapper?’ Rosemarie beamed at the pug. ‘Next week, when the boutique is open again, we’ll get another scarf for him to have as a spare. There were several others in the new assortment that would suit him, don’t you think?’
Hope smiled. ‘I’m sure that we can find the perfect one.’
Summer’s grin resurfaced. ‘I remember Megan once saying that good bone structure was the key to carrying a scarf well. If that’s the case, Percy’s bone structure must be outstanding—’
She was interrupted by a movement at the front curtains.
Hope sighed. ‘Well, I guess that’s a sign we’re supposed to get back to work.’
‘Couldn’t we ignore it?’ Summer pleaded. ‘My feet are just beginning to recover. In another couple of minutes, they’ll be much better. Then we can start up again.’
Rosemarie nodded in agreement. ‘My feet, too. And Percy is plumb tuckered out. It’s the heat, of course. Davis promised that it would get better once the sun went down and the wind picked up. But it’s nearly dark out, and there’s still not a wisp of wind, and it hasn’t gotten one degree cooler.’
Again, Hope debated whether to address the issue of Davis, but decided against it.
‘You don’t have to leave,’ she told Rosemarie. ‘Pull your chair over to the side and stay as long as you and Percy want.’
‘That’s awfully kind of you, Hope. Except we mustn’t keep Davis waiting. He’ll be looking for us and wondering where we—’
There was another movement at the front curtains, this time with more enthusiasm – or impatience.
‘All right. All right.’ Grumbling, Summer stood up. She gave the crystal ball a desultory poke, then reclaimed the ticket box.
The curtains began to part, but there was so much fabric that the person attempting to open them wasn’t visible.
‘For criminy sake, I’m coming. Keep your shirt on.’ Summer went to the curtains, and when she drew them apart, she started in surprise. ‘Oh! It’s you!’
Pushing roughly past her, Davis Scott entered the booth.
Rosemarie must not have expected to see him any more than Summer had, because she also gave a little shout. ‘Davis!’
Davis took a brief survey of his surroundings, and his already sour expression soured further. There was a harrumph of evident displeasure. No greeting was given to any of them, not even Rosemarie.
‘I thought that we were supposed to meet next to the pretzel stand,’ Rosemarie said to him in confusion.
‘We were,’ Davis confirmed coldly. ‘I was there. You weren’t.’
‘Dear me. I’m sorry. Percy and I got delayed. But now that you’ve seen the booth, I’m sure you can understand why. Isn’t it lovely in here? Don’t you think the twinkle lights are magical?’
There was another harrumph. Davis was apparently not a fan of twinkle lights, magical or otherwise.
Enough time had now elapsed for Summer to have regained her composure. ‘Five tickets, please,’ she informed Davis.
He ignored her.
‘Five tickets,’ she repeated, stepping toward him and holding out the gold-wrapped ticket box.
‘Preposterous,’ he spat.
Summer stiffened and assumed a prim, bureaucratic bearing. ‘The cost for admittance to this booth is five tickets. I have been instructed by the festival committee not to accept anything less.’
