Chapter 12 #3
“I can help you find her,” she said, despite having no idea if Jade was even here. But hanging out with a good-looking guy was better than being stuck inside staring at chicken wallpaper all day.
He tilted his head as if unsure. Then nodded. “Okay.”
They walked through the crowd, the happy screeches of children playing in the bouncy castle, the sights and smells of a cookout and the country music in the air. More than half the people were wearing boots of some kind—mostly old cowboy or rain boots. They were all having a blast.
Things were looking up for Kalista too. Way up. “What’s your name?” she asked him.
“Logan. How do you know Jade?”
Humph. She was puzzled that he hadn’t given her a flirty look yet. Batting her eyes, she answered, “Work. How do you know her?”
“She’s my sister.”
“Huh?” The fair-skinned redhead who needed a wardrobe makeover was this guy’s sister? It didn’t compute, and now she wondered if she had the wrong Jade Smith in mind.
He looked down and smiled a little. “We look just alike, don’t you think?”
“Uh...”
“I’m kidding.” Logan’s smile widened. “We’re foster siblings.”
“Oh.” That made more sense.
He returned to scanning the crowd, his smile replaced with singular determination.
Desperate to make conversation, she asked. “Have you had lunch yet?”
“Yeah. Ate something before I came here.”
That was disappointing, because now that she had breathed in the full effect of all the different hoedown foods, she was beyond starving. “How about a snack?”
Logan stopped walking and turned to her. “I really need to find Jade. Thanks for your help, but I think I can search faster on my own.”
“But... wait...”
He hurried off.
Kalista scowled. Now what? She guessed she could find Viv and hang with her. Hold up. What was that amazing smell?
Turning around, she saw a food stall with the words Funnel Cakes in bright red paint on the front. From the long line, she knew they must be good. Her stomach was roaring now. Forget avoiding carbs and sugar—she needed food. I need one of those cakes.
She quickly got in line behind a man who was smoothing down his bald spot. The sun warmed her skin as country music blared out of the speakers, along with an enthusiastic female voice who added an extra syllable to every word she spoke.
“Time to do-si-do, y’all,” she called out.
That must be the Pickle lady Tyler mentioned.
Kalista craned her neck toward the dance floor.
There were too many people crowding the perimeter for her to view the dancers, but she could see the band playing and the lady speaking into the microphone onstage.
She looked to be in her seventies and was wearing a short red-and-white checked dress, the hem flaring out as she skipped back and forth in front of the band.
“That’s it,” she said, crooking her arm. “Next, you fellas are gonna swing that pardner. Not too fast, though. Junior Simpkins, I’m talking to you! Dora Mae ain’t no rag doll!”
The crowd laughed, and Kalista thought she heard a faint, “Sorry, Ms. Pickles!”
“Great hoedown, Mayor Pancake!”
The man in front of her waved at a couple passing by. “Glad you’re enjoyin’ it!”
The line inched forward at a slug’s pace. Kalista crossed her arms. At this rate she’d have her trust fund before she’d reach the booth.
A tall man in blue jean overalls and a ragged straw cowboy hat approached, a scowl on his face. He was the first person she’d seen so far who didn’t look blissfully happy, other than Logan.
“Hey, Mayor,” he said, his drawl even more pronounced than Ms. Pickles’. He stuck his thick thumb underneath one of his overall straps, a toothpick in the corner of his mouth. “I need to talk to you about that town hall last week. I ain’t happy with your decision to annex part of the country road.”
“Now, Butch.” The mayor continued to smile. “You know I don’t talk business at the hoedown. Make an appointment with Betsy and we’ll discuss whatever you want.” He shook the big man’s hand.
“All right, Pancake. I’ll do that.”
“It’s Panchak,” the mayor muttered, but he sounded more good-natured than upset. As the man walked away, Pancake glanced over his shoulder, then did a quick double take at Kalista. “Hello, young lady. Don’t believe I’ve seen you around these parts before.”
I’m in hee-haw hell. Why did everyone around here sound like they lived under a haystack?
“Is this your first visit to Clementine?”
“It is.”
“Welcome. I’m Mayor Panchak.” He held out his hand. “Glad you could come to our little ol’ hoedown.”
“Thanks,” she said, surprised at how nice he was being to her. In fact, every person she’d met so far had been nice on one level or another. Especially Tyler. Too nice, remember?
“The funnel cakes are always popular,” he said as the line moved forward again. “They’re the best...”
Kalista followed the mayor’s gaze as he seemed to forget he was talking to her, then saw him smooth his bald spot again.
“Hey, Haskell,” a woman said as she approached and stopped in front of him.
Haskell Pancake, er, Panchak. What a name.
“Evelyn,” he said, his voice lower and less formal. He was still smiling, though.
“I, uh,” she glanced at Kalista, then looked at him again. “Can I ask you something? In private?”
“Sure.” He stepped out of the line.
“I can wait until you get your cake,” Evelyn said.
He scoffed. “Already had three today. Won’t hurt to miss the fourth.”
They walked away, and the line was finally making some progress. When Kalista reached the window, she was practically starving. “One funnel cake,” she said to the attendant. “Small.”
The lady manning the booth looked at her like she’d grown a third ear. “We make one size and one size only.”
Kalista’s eyes widened. She’d seen the plate-sized portions as people had gotten their cakes. No way she could eat all that... not at once anyway. “Okay, a one-size-fits-all will be fine.”
Within a minute, a fresh golden, crispy funnel cake appeared on a paper plate. The woman sprinkled a mountaintop full of powdered sugar over it. “That’ll be two dollars.”
Oh no. Kalista didn’t think to bring any money. Wait, she didn’t have any money, and she didn’t think to ask Viv for any.
“Ma’am, there’s a line behind you.”
She smiled, trying to play it off. “I’m Viv’s stepdaughter,” she name-dropped. “She’s good for it.”
“Who’s Viv?”
“Bo’s fiancée.”
The woman’s thick brows furrowed. “I don’t know any Bo or Viv.”
“Bo owns this farm,” a teenage kid behind Kalista said.
“I don’t live ’round here,” the woman said. “We just come to different festivals in the area. And this funnel cake is still two dollars, ma’am.”
How embarrassing. She couldn’t even pay for a lousy funnel cake. “Never mind,” she said, moving to step out of line.
“I got it.”
She turned to see Tyler standing close by, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out his wallet, handed two dollar bills to the funnel cake lady, then walked away.
Kalista grabbed her plate and hurried after him. “Tyler!”
But he didn’t turn around. Just kept on walking.
How confusing. If he was still mad at her, then why did he pay for her cake? And if he wasn’t mad, why did he ignore her?
The wafting scent of fried dough and sugar distracted her thoughts, and she sniffed the plate. It smelled heavenly. She took a big bite and almost fainted from the deliciousness. “Where have you been all my life?”