Page 39 of Valentine Nook
The pointing quickly turns into wriggling, and before Hendricks manages to stop him or drops him, Max has slid halfway down his father’s body on the way to the ground. “Daddy, Daddy, there’s Granny. Can I take her to see Sherbet?”
Hendricks isn’t given the opportunity to reply.
Max sprints off as fast as his legs can carry him, running straight for our mother who’s walking toward us with James Winters by her side. She barely moves as a miniature action hero crashes into her and grabs her hand.
We watch as she bends down to listen to Max’s pleading, nods, glances up at Hendricks and me, then allows Max to drag her off in the opposite direction. I make a mental note to buy Max and Sherbet a bumper bag of carrots for saving me from a conversation I’m sure I don’t want to have because I’m equally sure that’s what was about to happen.
“Close call.” I lean into Hendricks as we watch them disappear into the crowds. “And can I ask, wouldn’t it have been better to dress Sherbet as a spider?”
My brother rolls his eyes, though I catch the twitch of a smile. “Have you already buckled under the pressure of the summer fair committee?”
Hmm. That’s debatable.
The Valentine Nook Summer Fair officially opened an hour ago, and the crowds have been steadily building.
However, my day started much earlier than that with a call from Dave, the Burlington yard manager, who’d had a call from Mrs. Williams to say someone had left the gate open between the cow fields and the one we were using for the fair. The cows had wandered through and were now eating the hay bales that had been left out for sitting on.
While it didn’t take long to get them rounded up and back into the correct field, we then spent the next two hours cleaning up the mess they’d left and bringing down extra “non-edible” seating.
The rest of the morning had been spent calming the committee, reassuring them that everything would be fine, and doing my best to avoid any further issues. While vowing not to run the committee for at least another five years.
I don’t want to speak too soon, but the past hour has been problem-free and appears to be running smoothly.
The band is set up on a stage in the middle of the field, providing a soundtrack of the chosen jazz classics for the day.
Dogs are running around, swiftly followed by children.
The makeshift stables on the far side—where Max has taken our mother—are full of ponies being groomed and readied for the Best Turned Out Pony competition. It’s the most popular event of the fair, so popular that we have to do one for each age group between four and twelve.
We also host show jumping competitions, dog agility, and a best pet category—which was won by a rabbit named Nail Varnish last year.
The hay bales that weren’t used for a midnight snack are scattered around, while more seating is provided through striped deck chairs laid out in rows. Visitors already occupy half, while more patrons sit on picnic blankets, emptying theirbaskets and preparing to visit the multitude of stalls offering local produce.
If food’s not what you want, there are tractor rides, a petting zoo, welly-throwing, cornhole, the coconut shy, and everyone’s favorite, “guess the weight of the calf,” where the closest to the number gets to pick the name of our newest herd member.
On the other side of the field is the cricket pitch, where the annual Valentine Nook cricket match between The One True Love and The Cupid’s Arrow will begin shortly. The hardest part of today will be to show I’m not still smarting over not getting to play this year.
I shake my head. “As long as nothing else escapes, I don’t have to discuss the bunting at any point during the day, and someone brings me a cider, then I shall be happy. Which reminds me, where’s Churchill?”
Trust that bloody goat to get loose and terrorize everyone’s picnics.
“Locked in the stable with a bucket of water and half a dozen apples.”
“Excellent work. Thank you.”
My eyes sweep over the crowds again. I make a convincing argument that I’m searching for Miles and Alex, who should have been here twenty minutes ago. But I’m also wondering where Clementine has gotten to because I overheard her talking on the phone to someone she was agreeing to meet before the fair began.
And not that I know all of my sister’s friends. I’ve only recently become aware of one.
But whatever. If she’s here, she’s here. If she’s not, then who cares?
Not me. It’s not like I’ve been thinking about her since she bought me a coffee. Or shared her celebration donut with Thunder. Or that a celebration donut was even a thing.
I didn’t think it was cute or anything.
“Where are the others?”
Hendricks flips his wrist over, checking his watch. “They’ll be here soon.”
