Chapter Sixteen
“It’s that way, kind sir.” The young woman in an elaborate medieval gown pointed down the graveled path.
“Over yon bridge and then take the lane to the right, called High Road. You shall see it on your right there called the Idlewyld Stage.” She looked at her printed program.
“But you have time. The Cirque du Sewer show is just finishing.”
“Cirque du Sewer huh? Sounds like fun.” Daniel couldn’t help but smile at her accent and language. He thought he ought to bow or something.
She curtsied, holding out her hand. He took it without thinking.
Where is the magician show?”
Daniel recognized that face immediately, even under the black hooded cape—one of their muggers from Florence. The Italian accent was unmistakable.
“My, it is a popular show today! That way.” She pointed again. “Over yon bridge and then take the lane to the right, called High Road. You shall see it on your right, the Idlewyld Stage. But you must make haste, sir. It is about to begin.”
The man turned and stalked away without a word.
“Rude,” the woman said under her breath.
I can use this.
He let go of her fingers. “Thank you.”
He took off for the bridge. He could… What could he do? He knew the guy had a gun under that cape. And guns were prohibited here, based on all the signs.
He could just take him down and say he saw the gun. That would work. And the bridge was a perfect place. Just sweep his legs and sit on him. From there… Well, from there it got complicated. There had been two of these guys in Italy. Where was his partner?
A woman in costume was seated on the bridge, playing a harp.
He smiled at her and picked a spot to lean against the bridge railing that was in shadow but gave him a view of the approach, and he could just barely see the skirt of the woman who had helped him.
He would see the guy before he stepped foot on the bridge.
Daniel was glad he hadn’t worn his gloves. He just needed to learn how to stop any visions before they really started if he touched someone accidentally. But it was good he hadn’t stopped it this time. It might make a real difference in this situation.
It was Saturday, though. The guy wasn’t supposed to show up until tomorrow morning. He might be scoping out the location and his target.
There are many paths.
Had he picked the wrong path?
The harpist’s music would have been soothing if he weren’t wound as tight as her harp strings.
He looked at his watch. Mel’s show had to have started by now. That didn’t make sense based on his vision. The black-caped guy should’ve been right behind him.
Nothing is fixed.
Mel’s fingers flew as she folded the green origami paper and counted the children in the crowd. She needed two more frogs, just in case they were all brave enough to approach Missy Twist for a souvenir.
The Amazing Cornelius Twist made a show of stalking around the stage, showing the entire audience the very real frog that he held in his hands.
“And at last, the handsome prince deigned to kiss the rather homely-looking frog,” Cornelius Twist pronounced, not quite putting his lips on the very bored amphibian and placing it on the bottom of the man-size cabinet.
He then shut the doors with a dramatic flourish and turned the cabinet all the way around.
“Now, what happened to the frog?” her dad asked the audience.
Voices clamored for his attention, most of them children shouting that the frog turned into a beautiful princess, but one little girl insisted, rather loudly and as the other voices died down, that it turned into a prince.
Cornelius waggled his eyebrows. “Not in this state, I’m afraid, my lovely lady!
” he quipped, and the adults in the crowd laughed.
“No, this frog has turned into a beautiful princess.” He swung open the door of the cabinet and Heather emerged, looking like a bedraggled Snow White in her tattered red and gold outfit trimmed with bells and beads.
Perched on her head, which was adorned with feathers and ribbons, was a lopsided and well-worn tiara with a few glass jewels missing.
Heather extended her hand regally, and he bowed to her as he helped her to the stage.
Mel laughed and clapped from her perch next to the stage, widening her eyes in excitement at the children in the crowd and then pointing to herself and nodding proudly, miming placing the tiara on her head as if she could be a princess too. It was all part of the show.
Heather’s outfit had been modeled after Mel’s, only where Mel’s was blue and silver to match her coloring, Heather’s dramatic black hair and pale skin had demanded red and gold.
Heather hadn’t taken the stage name that Mel had used—Missy Twist, daughter of Cornelius Twist. According to her dad, the name Heather used instead, Feather Head, suited her perfectly. But she was petite, flexible, coordinated, and wonderful with the kids.
A little girl wandered up the aisle to where Mel sat on the steps leading to the stage, and Mel took one of the green origami frogs and hopped it toward her.
It landed in the grass right at the tot’s feet, and she scooped it up and carried it to her father, who was already on his way to retrieve the brave explorer.
As the little girl waved goodbye, Mel hunched her shoulders and wiggled her fingers under her chin in her trademark “Missy” wave, only to be startled by a sudden emotional surge from somewhere in the audience.
Amusement. Relief. Excitement. Pleasure.
The zing of attraction and the first tentative stirrings of love.
Someone out there was falling in love right this minute, and once she recovered from the initial rush, Mel let the emotions seep into her.
What a wonderful feeling: that first swell of realization, when you really look into someone’s face and suddenly know. But where…?
She looked up and saw a familiar pair of chocolate-brown eyes.
Daniel stood at the back of the audience, leaning against a support post with his arms folded—smiling with that warm grin of his.
When he realized she’d spotted him, he held up his hand.
Something tingled through her and curled up in her middle. He’d followed her. All the way down here.
A warm flush heated her cheeks. That surge of emotion couldn’t have come from him, could it? The audience was packed, after all. But he had followed her.
She scooped up her basket of origami frogs and flounced up the stairs, dashing over to Heather, who was still showing off for the kids, and grabbing the tiara off her head.
Heather shrieked in dismay as Mel jammed it on her own head, stuck out her tongue, twirled and dashed backstage with Heather trailing feathers in pursuit.
“What’s up?” Heather asked behind the curtain without missing a beat. They had done that routine before, though it had been a while.
“Are you doing Assistant’s Revenge for the closing?”
Heather nodded, looking over to where the cabinet for that illusion stood.
“I’m going to join you guys for this one. The way we did it a couple of years ago, remember?” Mel placed a black velvet cape on a hook next to the stage entrance.
Heather nodded.
“I have a friend in the audience I want to surprise. Can you hand out the frogs and tell Dad… Tell him my prince just showed up?”
Heather blinked, then smiled. “Sure, hon. You don’t know how much I appreciate you rushing down here in case I couldn’t make it. I am so sorry for the trouble.”
Mel waved her off. “Actually, I think you did me a favor.” He followed me!
It was like something out of one of her favorite romcoms. He had come halfway across the country to find her. It wasn’t quite Sleepless in Seattle or Notting Hill, but it was close.
Her dad didn’t seem surprised when she pushed the appliance onto the stage for the final illusion, the ratty tiara still on her head and a mischievous expression on her face.
The audience loved how he went through the long, exaggerated routine of persuading her to stop showing off and climb into the device, then chaining her in and putting her head and arms into a wooden stock.
The story involved how he was locking away his innocent but rebellious daughter to keep her safe.
She gave him a hard time about the whole thing, pointing out that other fathers didn’t lock up their daughters, especially princesses, to which he responded that other fathers turned their daughters into frogs every night, especially the ones who went about stealing tiaras.
Usually the assistant and magician changed places as the magician pulled a curtain all the way around the device, but this time, as her dad pulled the curtain, she slipped out past Heather, who took over pulling the curtain as her dad took her place in the device.
It was all accomplished so smoothly that the curtain kept moving the entire time they changed positions.
The audience was surprised when Heather appeared pulling the curtain, and her father appeared chained and padlocked in the device.
Mel threw on a hooded black velvet cape and sprinted out, nearly bowling over a man in a cape much like hers. She staggered and he grabbed her wrist.
“Sorry!” she said. But the man didn’t respond. He was frozen in place and she looked around, but there were people all around them, so she wasn’t too concerned.
“Sir?” She tried to see his face, but he let go and staggered away, disappearing into the throngs of fairgoers. Probably drank a bit too much ale at one of the pubs.
Mel frowned, then ran to the lane and walked sedately among the passersby to the rear of the audience, so no one would notice her.
She heard her dad yelling and rattling the chains behind her, making the padlocks jump in the stocks. “Who did this to me?”