Page 44 of Valentine Nook
And my throat goes dry.
Sadly, a small child running between us breaks the moment, followed by several other slightly larger children.
“Where were we?” Lando clears his throat and asks. “Oh yes, the pony judging. It’s not for another hour, so what do you say we visit the coconut shy? How are you at throwing?”
I have no idea what a coconut shy is, but thanks to my brother, my throwing arm is pretty darn good.
“Better than I am at shooting,” I reply.
“And have you tried our cider yet?”
I shake my head. “No, but I have a feeling I’m about to.”
“You catch on quick, Hollywood. Let’s go.”
I follow Lando through the field to where the games are set up on the opposite end to the cricket, beyond a wide boundary. Thanks to my brother’s lengthy explanation this morning, I’ve almost grasped the concept of cricket. At least enough to know that it’s called a pitch, not a field, and a match, not a game.
“So, as a summer fair aficionado, what’s your favorite part?” Lando asks.
“Hmm. Good question.” I tuck away a loose strand of hair that stuck in my sunglasses. “The food, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
“But also I really love the old-fashioned games, you know where you shoot at a bullseye and win a stuffed bear, that kind of thing.”
“Then the coconut shy will be ideal.”
I’m wondering if I should pull my phone out for a quick search on Google when we reach the bar Clemmie’s serving at, which turns out to be an Air Stream version of The One True Love.
“Hey, guys, how’s it going? Having fun, Hol? Hope Lando’s behaving himself,” Clemmie calls out when she spots us walking over.
I push my sunglasses up and watch him roll his eyes at his sister. “He’s been the perfect gentleman.”
There have to be ten people serving, but they still can’t pour the drinks quick enough. Every time someone’s departure creates a gap, it’s quickly filled by a surge of new customers.
It’s not the first bar I’ve seen in the fields, but it’s the busiest by far. Patrons carry away trays holding half a dozen glasses at a time. One guy walks off with four cups clamped between his giant hands while he holds another between his teeth, and the small gaps they leave behind are quickly filled.
Luckily because Clemmie is serving, or because I’m with the guy running the place, we step around the side where it’s quiet.
“Quit yapping, Clem. Walking around is thirsty work. Hollywo . . .” Lando pauses, and there’s amusement in his tone when he finishes the sentence. “Holidaywants to try our cider.”
“All right, keep your knickers on,” Clementine shoots back, passing over two dark green cups that have been pre-poured. Similar to Solo cups, these have Valentine Nook Summer Fair printed on them.
Clemmie and Lando watch me as I take my first sip. The crisp, bubbly apple taste hits my throat. It’s incredibly refreshing and immediately goes to my head.
“Well?”
I take another sip under their watchful eyes. “Hey, best cider I’ve ever tasted.”
Clemmie whoops. “Correct answer.”
“It’s made from Burlington apples. The ones Churchill doesn’t eat, anyway,” Lando adds, taking a huge gulp of his own.
Clemmie’s already moved on to serving more customers. As there’s not enough space at the bar for us to stand here and drink, I pick up my cup and once again follow Lando.
“See you two later. Don’t have too much fun without me,” Clemmie calls after us as we make our way over to the field of games.
The coconut shy is essentially nine coconuts balanced on the top of ten evenly spaced poles set into an overlapping diamond formation, ready to be knocked off.
