Chapter Twenty
Deeply Connected
I didn’t answer right away. He crossed his toned arms over his chest. Tapped those damn boots against the asphalt. Streaks of chocolate covered his cheeks, the top of his hands, and spread across his jeans like a bad Jackson Pollock painting.
He didn’t have to step up and help us in the tent.
He could have continued his interviews. Taken notes about the town and the tourists.
How they reacted to the festival. Instead, he’d chosen to volunteer with us, and I hated that meant something to me when I should be trying to box him out. Keep him from our lives.
‘Fine. I’ll go with you as long as you agree that your journalist hat is off for the day. No questions for me. No grilling the locals.’
His grin widened and he stuck out his hand. ‘Deal.’
I shook it and hated the way that bungee between us stretched and writhed. Like he felt it too, he rubbed his thumb against my palm and I quickly pulled my hand away.
‘Where do you want to start?’ I asked.
‘The SAR tent.’
‘That’s odd. Why?’
‘I have to see what Lia’s crew thinks of her pink jumpsuit.’
His full-chested laughter was too much, and I groaned and took off through the growing crowd.
‘This isn’t the way toward the tent.’
‘We are not going there. If Lia knew what you were up to, well, have you ever witnessed a bull see red?’
Another boisterous laugh filled the air as I moved in the direction of where the local growers showed off their collection of unique wildflowers: calypso orchids, elephant’s head, silvery lupine.
We wandered in and out of the next several tents.
In one, local artists showcased their interpretations of a Colorado sunset, lavishing canvases in crimson, tangerine and mulberry hues.
Some artists painted the bluffs, dotted in wild bluebells and lilacs during the summertime.
Others captured the quiet peace of the mountaintops after a heavy snow.
Several steps away, sculptors displayed pieces fashioned out of clay and steel, many of them depicting the birds native to Colorado like the American robin, the Cooper’s hawk and the great horned owl.
We darted in and out of several more tents, and I pretended not to notice the parade of local dogs and feral cats following us. How every time we stopped and observed some handmade treasure, a new animal joined the pack. If Bryce noticed, he thankfully did not say a word.
The streets were packed tighter than the slopes on the first day of ski season. We elbowed our way around strollers, large hordes of families and tourists who’d spent way too much money on oversized cowboy hats in the Western-wear store.
At the end of the block, Bryce stopped short in front of the food stalls. ‘What is a deep-fried Oreo?’
‘Oh, come on. It’s traditional fair food.’
‘Never had one. Think I should try?’
‘The answer is yes.’ I nudged him toward the stall.
As I stood on the corner, more dogs made their way to me. I petted heads, and scrubbed ears, happy that all I felt was warm fur and a bit of slobber.
Bryce inched closer to ordering as the pharmacist, Fred Ellery, and his wife, Nora, clocked me from a few yards away.
‘Looks like you came prepared for the children’s tent.’ Nora scanned me from head to toe, her thin lips pursing. ‘We should have thought of coveralls, Fred. It would have made our lives easier.’
The poor man’s gray eyebrows pinched together as he stared at the chaotic splashes of chocolate across my arms and legs like he still had trauma from his assignment last year.
‘That’s true, dear. Glad I’m only committed to winning the pie-eating contest for the sixth year in a row! ’ He rubbed his belly in anticipation.
‘The coveralls were Aster’s idea. She’s always thinking ahead.’
Nora leaned in, her short black curls bouncing against her cheeks. ‘Have you seen that journalist around here?’
I tipped my chin to where Bryce stood.
A stricken look crossed her face. ‘I think you should be aware that he’s been asking us a lot of particular questions.’
‘What do you mean by particular?’ I said, trying to keep my voice level.
‘He’s interested in the pharmacy because it once belonged to your ancestors. Wanted to know if we had any old files or historical records about the place,’ Fred said.
Shit. He was still chasing details about Ambrosia and Sylvia. I was glad he’d agreed not to talk about the town today, because I still hadn’t figured out a way to explain away the journal if he pressed me on it again.
‘We didn’t tell him a thing, because, well, when we bought the place all the business records began in the mid-1950s. Apparently, the earlier documents were lost in some kind of fire,’ Nora said.
Fire. I swallowed down the bile climbing up my throat.
Bryce handed over his money and turned back in our direction. Nora gave me a hesitant smile, tugged on Fred’s arm. ‘Take care of yourself, Dani.’ Her words were more of a warning than a kindness.
Bryce made his way back with his concoction in a red-and-white-checked paper bowl. ‘This looks really good.’
‘I need to go,’ I said haltingly.
He paused with the cookie halfway to his mouth. ‘No. Please stay.’
When I didn’t reply he looked in the direction Fred and Nora had gone.
‘They’re nice people,’ he said, setting his treat back into the paper bowl.
‘Is there anyone in this town you haven’t interrogated?’
‘Dani,’ he sighed. ‘Let’s not do this.’
‘You’re right. Let’s not.’
I started to walk away, but he caught my hand. ‘Please,’ he said with a weary breath. ‘We agreed to not talk about this. Today, I only want to experience the festival. Spend time with you. Can we do that?’
He was back to rubbing that delicate circle against my palm. Spending time with him was a bad idea. He was getting too nosy. Too close to things I didn’t want him to know.
He let go of me and gingerly picked up the treat, taking a careful bite. His eyes closed, and he made a low moan that was too much like our time in the truck. ‘Holy crap. That may be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.’ He smiled with a wicked little spark. ‘Well, one of the best things.’
Heat flared in my cheeks and he held out the fried cookie. ‘Want to try?’
His gaze flicked to my mouth and his eyes lit with anticipation.
How did I keep walking this sensuous line with him when I was supposed to be keeping my distance?
He waited, and I finally pressed my mouth around the edge.
The quick breath he sucked in made me think he was reliving our time in the truck too.
Using his thumb, he swiped a loose crumb from the corner of my mouth.
It was the most basic touch, but it lit up every single one of my nerve endings like I’d touched a live wire.
‘I really want to kiss you right now,’ he said in a tight whisper.
His hand moved to cradle my cheek. We were standing in the middle of the street, festivalgoers streaming around us, and all I could think was how I wanted his mouth on mine again.
It was dumb. Reckless, especially after what Nora had just revealed, but that yank in my chest was too hard to ignore.
I began to lean in until my phone beeped, reminding me that this was nothing but a bad idea waiting to happen.
‘If you want to see the rest of the festival, we should go. I need to head back to the children’s tent soon.’
Disappointment flashed across his face, but he said, ‘Lead the way.’
Only a few steps from Mo’s tavern sat a white tent that was as long as the local high school’s football field. When we walked inside, Bryce came to a sudden stop, his mouth hanging open.
Ten feet in front of us on an elevated pedestal sat a squash that was nearly the size of a washing machine. On the next pedestal was a red radish as big as a baseball. He tore his phone out of his pocket and took at least a dozen photos.
‘Wait.’ I pointed in the direction of the granddaddy of them all: a pumpkin that was close to the size of a golf cart.
‘You’ve got to be kidding me! When you all talked about this at the meeting a few weeks ago, I thought the vegetables would be big, but not this big. How did the festival get started?’
This was a part of the town’s history I was happy to share.
‘In the early 1950s, we had a city councilman with a brother who lived in Alaska. He went to visit him one year, and his brother took him to the state fair. Part of the exhibits were these giant vegetables. Apparently, a decade before, the owner of one of the railroads offered a twenty-five-dollar prize to the farmer who could grow the largest vegetable. The councilman loved the idea. How it brought the community together. He pitched it to town leaders when he returned home, and in 1955 Harvest Moon had their first Veggie Fest.’
‘How is it even possible to grow a pumpkin that large?’
That earned Bryce a few dark stares from the locals who were still primping and preening their giant veggies before judging.
‘What did I say wrong?’
‘The growers keep their techniques to themselves, but I overheard Randall running his mouth after one too many beers at the tavern a couple of years ago.’
He arched a reddish brow. ‘Okay, you have to tell me.’
Mrs Poppel, who runs the local berry stand, caught my eye. Shook her head.
‘Can’t tell you. Closely guarded town secret.’
He rolled his eyes and walked toward the massive pedestal where Eric’s volleyball-sized green pepper sat.
‘You’re very lucky. This kind of community event is rare these days.
People are usually too caught up in their own lives to want to give back.
Or in this case’ – he cocked his head to the watermelon that was the size of a large dog – ‘share their creations.’
‘They don’t do this kind of thing in Los Angeles? Not even in some of the small suburbs?’
‘Not that I know of. But now that I’ve seen it here, it makes me wish they did.’ He turned back to the watermelon, going suddenly quiet. ‘I envy you. The peace that comes with living in this quiet place.’
‘It has its perks. I like seeing people I’ve known since childhood. Treating their pets or their children’s or grandchildren’s pets.’
‘That’s what I mean. There’s history here. A solid tether of family.’
‘Your uncle didn’t have any kids?’
‘Nope. I’m the only one left to carry on both the Richardson and O’Dell lines.’
‘Family comes in all shapes and sizes, Bryce. I bet you have friends, people you work with, who you consider family.’
‘Of course, but since I’ve been here, I’ve been struck by how much people knew and liked my uncle.
That day when I first met the judge here on the street, that wasn’t the first time someone made me aware of how much they’d miss my uncle Rich.
How he’d made such a major impression on people over the years. ’
‘It’s what happens in a small town like Harvest Moon. People care, but they definitely get into your business too.’
I glanced at Mrs Poppel, who eyeballed us with equal parts intrigue and suspicion.
‘You’re lucky to have your sisters. Your grandmother,’ he went on. ‘To be so deeply connected to one place.’
‘I’ve never thought of it that way. This has always just been home.’
‘Treasure that. It’s a real gift.’ He kicked at a rock with the toe of his boot. ‘When I was eight I was obsessed with the movie The Goonies. Have you seen it?’
‘That’s the one with the kids who find the pirate ship, right?’
‘One-Eyed Willy’s ship,’ he said, like he was pleased I could follow along. ‘Part of the reason I liked it so much is that all those kids were fighting to stay in the one place where they’d grown up. The small town where they felt safe. They were willing to risk life and limb to stay together.’
There was an unexpected sadness to his voice.
He’d traveled the world. Been to exotic places.
Reported on important world events. It was odd to have him speak about community and home like they meant something to him.
I’d always seen him as this focused and committed journalist, but I was beginning to notice cracks in that sleek, professional facade he presented to everyone in town.
‘What else is there to see at this festival?’ he asked roughly like he hadn’t been expecting to share something so intimate.
‘I have to head back to the children’s area, but there’s a pie-eating contest soon. And the speed-woodchopping competition is always a crowd pleaser.’
He pressed his palm against mine, and the heat of him sent another shock through me. I should have pulled away, but his touch felt too right.
‘Sure I can’t convince you to hang out with me a little longer?’
His touch made my mind fuzzy. Was sharing something so vulnerable about himself all part of his ploy to get me to let down my guard? Or was it possible that he wanted to know me beyond what was whispered about my family in town? That he also felt that tether growing between us?
I let myself consider that possibility until Aster sprinted into the tent. She stopped in front of me, huffing and puffing like she’d just run a mile.
‘What’s wrong?’ I said, her sudden entrance drawing more than a few stares.
‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere.’ She dragged in another gulp of air. ‘Lia needs you. Right now.’
‘Why?’
‘Mara Johnson’s gone.’
‘What do you mean she’s gone?’ I said.
‘I mean the deputy mayor’s daughter is missing.’