Page 81 of Christmas Mittens Murder

“Nah,” Arthur said in a bright tone. “But I’ll know it when I see it.”

“Mother loves glass things the light can shine through, and Dad would like fun socks,” Franklin said. “I know because he said so.”

“Those sound like good choices.” Cam nodded approvingly.

The fair offered the usual array of booths displaying Christmas ornaments and red-and-green sweaters, Santa-themed pottery, cookie cutters, and holly-shaped gifts. We also passed a woman in a headscarf selling quilted table runners and tote bags in Christmas colors as well as in jewel tones of magenta, gold, and turquoise. Another booth displayed dreidels, dreidel art, hand-carved menorahs, and other Hanukkah-related items. This was called the holiday fair rather than the Christmas fair on purpose, according to Allie.

The atmosphere was bright and cheery as more people flooded in, but it was in contrast to leaden skies forecasting rain later. A lot later, I hoped, despite the perennial drought around here. Rain would ruin the fair.

The boys paused at a booth with wooden puzzles and games. Arthur investigated small boxes requiring different pieces to be arranged a certain way to open the box, and Franklin picked up another complicated gizmo with metal rings and pegs. The man running the booth began explaining how the puzzle games worked.

“The boys are quite different from each other, aren’t they?” Cam murmured.

“In all ways except the few minutes surrounding their births.” Six-minutes-older Franklin, today in the forest-green down vest he loved, took after his brilliant father, Fuller, with dark curly hair, a quiet studious manner, and the tentativeness of a born introvert. Arthur, wearing his favorite yellow jacket, was blond like Allie, although his curls were a honey-colored shade, and his eyes were brown, not blue. He was athletic and always on the move, had mild ADHD, and was a cheery kid who wore his extrovert badge on his sleeve.

“When will Fuller be back?” Cam asked. “I hope I can meet him before I leave Monday.”

“I think he’s scheduled to return tomorrow. You’ll miss my mom and Zoe, though. They won’t be here until the twenty-third.” Christmas was soon. We had to get Allie’s name cleared before then, and preferably today.

“Auntie Cee, look, juggling balls!” Arthur pointed down the row.

“Fine,” I said. “But don’t go any farther than that booth. I’ll be right there.”

He skipped down the row, Franklin hurrying behind him.

At the game tent, I bought two of the complex puzzle games the man had been explaining. “They come with instructions, right?”

“Yes, ma’am. Wrap those for you?”

“No, thanks.” I paid him, shrugged off my pack, and slipped the handled bag inside.

“I’ll find you,” Cam said. “I want to buy one of these preschool puzzles for Ruthie.”

To my surprise, the juggler was Rafael Torres. His booth was full of brightly colored soft stuffed balls and cubes, plus sets of things that looked like bowling pins on steroids. Both boys faced one wall of the booth, concentrating as they each threw one ball in the air and tried to transfer another ball to the right hand and then catch the airborne ball with their left.

“Do you make these?” I asked Rafael.

Franklin turned to look at me and dropped both his balls. He shook his head, picked them up, and returned them to a basket nearby.

“I can’t do it,” he muttered to me.

“It’s okay, honey.” I ruffled his hair. “You have lots of other things you’re good at.”

“Don’t worry about it, Franklin. I couldn’t juggle at your age, either,” Rafael said. “And, yes, Cece, I sew the ball covers and stuff them.”

“That’s pretty cool.” A man who sewed and admitted it. I approved. “Do you also perform riding a unicycle and juggling knives?”

He laughed. “Haven’t quite mastered those skills yet.” He gazed at Arthur, who now nearly had both balls in the air at one time. “Nice job, Artie. Do a few more rounds and let me know when you’re ready for a third.”

“I’d like to learn to use a sewing machine,” Franklin said.

“Your mom doesn’t sew?” Rafael asked.

I laughed. “You don’t know Allie very well. Frankie, next time Mommy brings you guys to my house in Pasadena, I’ll teach you, okay? What do you want to make?”

“I want to make a lap quilt for Gran. Every time she sits on the couch, she says she’s cold.”

“You’re very thoughtful, young man,” Rafael said. “Maybe your aunt here could bring you over to my house after Christmas, and I could teach you.” He gave me a warm smile and raised his eyebrows in a questioning look.

---