Chapter 12
Cash
The Silver Falls Summer Festival is in full swing by the time we get there, and just like every year, just getting out of the truck to see it all makes me smile. Silver Falls might not be a fancy little town, but we know how to have a good time.
There are lights strung between booths, and music fills the air along with the smells of kettle corn, barbecue, and fried food. It looks like the whole town is already here, putting aside their work and chores and whatever else to have a good time this evening.
Cora clings to Harper, but she looks around curiously, her little nose twitching as she picks up on the scents wafting around.
“If your aunt says it’s all right, I’ll get you a funnel cake,” I tell her. “Have you had one before?”
She shakes her head, and I grin at her. “Well, let me tell you, little star, you are in for a treat.”
The little girl practically starts vibrating with excitement, and Harper holds on to her hand firmly before squatting down to her eye level.
“Remember what we talked about?” she asks, holding up her free hand.
Cora mimics her with her hand and together they tick off a list of rules.
“No running off on your own. If you want to see something, get my attention, and I’ll take you over there.
We can’t go home with a farm animal. If you get overwhelmed, just let me know. Don’t fill up on junk food.”
I laugh a little at that last one. “Filling up on junk food is half the fun of the festival, Harper. It won’t kill her.”
She gives me a look, but there’s a smile tucked into the corners of her mouth. “Says you.”
“Says me,” I agree. “And as you know, I’m an expert when it comes to festivals, so you should listen to me.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.” She doesn’t sound impressed, but she does follow me as I lead the two of them around.
When I ask where they want to start, neither of them seems to know, and I have to wonder if they’ve ever been to anything like this before.
Cora definitely hasn’t, but it’s sad if Harper has never gone to a festival or a carnival and had a good time.
Even if she has, it’s clear that it’s been a while since she’s had fun. She always has that pinch to her brows, that frown lurking in her smile, and for one evening at least, I want her to be able to have a good time.
So I decide that’s my mission. I’m going to make her laugh, make her forget a little about whatever it is that’s haunting her. Indulging Cora will help, but Harper tends to forget about herself in all this too.
We come to the first booth in a long row, and I stop, doing a dramatic hand gesture as I motion to a large jar, stuffed to the brim with peppers in a mess of colors.
“Our first stop on the Silver Falls Summer Festival Tour is the McKinley Pepper Jar. Every year Mrs. McKinley,” I nod to the woman manning the booth, “stuffs this jar with peppers for the good people to take a guess at how many are in here.”
Harper eyes the jar curiously. “What do you get if you win?” she asks.
“A selection of our finest hot sauces, pickled peppers, and pepper jellies,” Mrs. McKinley says. She gestures to the rows of little cups for samples. “If you want to see if it’s worth it.”
Harper hums and selects a little cup with pepper jelly in it.
She licks it off the back of the sample spoon and her eyebrows climb up her forehead.
“That’s good. Okay, I’m game.” She squints at the jar a bit and then takes the slip of paper Mrs. McKinley offers.
Glancing at me, she covers the paper with one hand when she writes down her answer and then passes it back.
I scribble down my own guess and hand it over too.
“Good luck to you both,” Mrs. McKinley says.
“She does that every year?” Harper asks as we walk away from the booth.
I nod. “Every year. The peppers don’t go to waste, and it’s a fun little thing. Good for business.”
We keep walking and come across a game down the line where the goal is to bounce a ball and get it into the mouth of a jar. The jars are spaced farther and farther apart, with points for each distance.
I waggle my eyebrows at Harper. “Think you’ve got what it takes?”
“Is that a challenge?” she fires back.
My blood beats approvingly at that, and I hand over two tickets to the man running the booth. “Let’s see what you’ve got,” I tell her.
“Oh no, experts first,” she says. “I insist.”
I laugh and take the first turn, grabbing the little ball and narrowing my eyes as I line up a shot.
The first one goes neatly into the jar for ten points, and the second slides into the twenty-five point one after hitting the rim.
The last ball misses, but thirty-five points is more than respectable.
I give Harper a little bow as I step back.
She steps up and takes her turn, sinking a ball into the twenty-five point jar immediately. My eyebrows climb up at the shot, but then she misses the next two, making me the winner.
She doesn’t seem upset though. Her eyes are bright, and she smirks at me as she steps back. “I’m just getting warmed up,” she says. “I’ll win the next one.”
“I like that attitude,” I tell her, and we carry on.
I make good on my promise to get Cora a funnel cake at the next booth, ordering one with extra powdered sugar and strawberries. “Fruit is healthy,” I tease Harper, grinning. She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t argue.
Cora looks like she can’t decide how to even begin to eat her treat, and we both laugh as she gets powdered sugar all over her face when she finally just starts tearing into it.
“Is it good?” I ask her. She nods, wide eyed and eager.
“Can I try some?” Harper asks, and Cora holds the plate up for her to tear off a bit. Harper pops the fried dough into her mouth and licks her lips clean of the sugar and nods. “That is good. But it’s hard to go wrong with fried dough and sugar.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” I reply.
I get them both some fresh lemonade, and we people watch for a while. I point out the local characters, giving them both the short version of why they’re so notorious.
“That guy there,” I say, pointing to a man making balloon animals for a group of sticky kids. “Is the local vet. Comes out for farm animals, barn cats, dogs, you name it. Been in business since I was a kid.”
Harper watches as Dr Vance blows up a balloon with his pump and then ties it off before twisting it into something for one of the kids.
“I guess you all do this, huh?” she asks. “Pull double duty for festivals. Am I going to see Lincoln or Everett dressed like a clown or manning the petting zoo?”
I laugh at that, genuine humor bubbling out of me. “Fuck, could you imagine? No, they just stick to coming to these things. Although sometimes I have to work my magic to get them to do it. I don’t think I need to tell you sometimes they have a hard time having fun.”
She smiles. “Yeah, I can see that.”
I point out a few more people running their stalls or entertaining children, and even Dolly is there, serving up bowls of chili despite how hot it is outside. One of the best things about the festival is how the whole town comes together for it, and it always fills me with pride to be a part of it.
Harper looks like she gets it, at least, and that makes me feel even better as we move on.
The next game we come to is ring toss, and this time there’s a determined light in Harper’s eye.
She throws with precision, and it’s a toss-up whether she wins because she’s skilled or because I’m too busy watching her to focus, but either way, she takes the prize and laughs delightedly when the owner of the local mill who’s running the game declares her the winner.
It’s a bright, beautiful sound, and I can’t help but grin in the wake of it.
Her whole face is lit up, and that right there is the magic of the Summer Festival.
I don’t point it out though. I don’t want to make her self-conscious.
Instead, I just keep watching that light play over her beautiful features as we move on to the next thing.
Cora takes a turn at throwing water balloons at a target, and she hits true and ends up winning a stuffed animal. Harper whoops with delight, clapping and laughing as Cora takes the large stuffed cow and clutches it to her chest.
“Good job, baby,” she says, grinning at her niece.
“That’s how you do it,” I praise Cora, holding up my hand for a high five. She makes the cow high five me instead, but I take that, declaring that the winner deserves some cotton candy.
Harper doesn’t argue, letting me lead the way to buy a huge cone of it to share.
Cora juggles her cow and the chunk of fluff that I give her, and she makes a soft sound of delight as the sweetness dissolves on her tongue.
I hold out the cone toward Harper, raising an eyebrow. “Are you gonna let us get a sugar high all alone?” I ask her.
She snorts, and for a second I think she’s going to refuse. But then she leans in, cheeks flushing faintly as she pulls away at the cotton candy with her teeth.
I swallow hard at the sight of her, pink cheeked and shiny mouthed, watching her savor the taste.
The festival is always fun, but there’s something different about it now. Something deeper to it that probably has to do with sharing these moments with Harper and Cora and watching them enjoy all the things I’ve loved since I was a kid growing up here.
We wander a bit more, heading for the stage set up at one end of the fairgrounds. The local band is setting up, and we linger there, finishing our treat until the music starts.
It’s the usual, twangy folk music, with Preston Richards as the front man. It’s toe tapping music, whether you know the words or not, and I bob my head along to the beat.
“I remember when it used to be you up there,” someone says at my side, and I turn to see Mary James standing next to me. She’s an older woman, who’s seen more than a few of these festivals in her time.
I laugh a little. “That was a long time ago, Mrs. James. Things change.”