Ana of California (25 page)

“On the house, and the tip comes in the form of a
shhhh
,” Will said, putting his finger to his lips. “Find someone to fight
for.”

I
f the summer produce season was lively, the annual Hadley Harvest Festival was an all-out riot. Residents worked year-round perfecting their seasonal goods for the sprawling October event. Though it was Abbie's favorite day of the year, it was always a hassle to Emmett, who preferred staying home to talking to customers. But Garber Farm's booth showcased such an abundance of products that they both hoped it would be even more profitable than in previous years.

Ana and Abbie stayed up the evening before the fair hand painting a Garber Farm sign to hang over the booth. Ana drew the lettering and surrounded it in flourishes of orange zinnias and squash blossoms that Abbie punctuated with color. And though Emmett scoffed at the amount of time they were spending perfecting their creation, he couldn't argue that the work wasn't an improvement over last year's booth.

As always, Garber Farm was awake early. Abbie, Ana,
and Manny helped Emmett load both his and Manny's trucks before the two of them went ahead with the bulk of the produce. In keeping with Abbie's yearly tradition, she and Ana drove over to the Moons' to help them with their load too, as well as to share in celebratory spiced doughnuts and mugs of cocoa.

“It's going to be a long day,” Abbie warned. “Be prepared to get your ear talked off and your nerves stretched thin. We're also going to have a heck of a good time.” She and Ana sat in the Moons' dimly lit living room next to a crackling morning fire.

“I don't know what is keeping that girl,” Della said, pulling a shawl over her shoulders. “I'm sending you in, Ana. I think you'll have better luck than I will.”

Ana headed upstairs and knocked on Rye's door.

“Wake up, sleepy,” she said.

“Kill me now,” she heard from the other side.

Ana opened the door and found Rye sitting on her bed, a blanket over her shoulders as if she had only just awakened.

“Rising from the dead?”

“I can't even handle this morning. My dad is forcing me to wear what I can describe only as
The Shinin
g meets corporate rodeo.” Rye thrust her tiny hands through the blanket, tossing out something plaid and something denim, along with an apron advertising Moon Pharm General Store, complete with a yellow moon. She sat glaring at the pile, her damp hair slicked to the side.

“Can you believe this?” she croaked.

“Blasphemy,” Ana said. “Come downstairs and have a doughnut.”

Rye threw off the blanket and hopped off her bed. She headed to the mirror barefoot and dressed only in a tank top
and boy shorts. “I could just go like this,” she said, scrutinizing herself in the mirror. “My nonexistent everything will only further the Ryan rumors.”

“Or you can put on the uniform and give it a Rye spin. Isn't western always in?”

“Somewhere, not here, aka not on this person.” Ana shot Rye a look. “Fine. Should I accessorize with silver moon earrings or go full Pharm with my vintage
Valley of the Dolls
pin?”

“Moons all the way.”

 • • • 

A
bbie's excitement and Emmett's moans predicted the Garber Farm booth at the Hadley Harvest Festival would be one of the big tickets. Ana still couldn't believe the hordes of people swarming around their tented tables, eager hands grabbing pumpkins, jars of kumquat marmalade, as well as Abbie's new butternut squash empanadas. Behind the counter, Abbie kept a batch of hard cider, along with her bottles of barley wine, reserved for those in the know who either preordered or knew to ask for them. Ana bagged produce while sometimes answering questions about everything grown on the farm, surprising herself with her own knowledge of in-season vegetables. She gave more than a few shout-outs to her coworkers in the fields and was delighted to meet Manny's wife and two kids. Vic and Rolo stopped by, enjoying their day off, even bringing Joey, who said how much he missed the farm, along with them.

“Delicata, I presume?” Will Carson asked, catching Ana off guard as he was suddenly in front of her, inspecting the bounty of squash.

“Yep. We also have butternut, acorn, spaghetti squash, and kabocha, which is new to the farm this year.”

“Well, well, look who's learning her
Cucurbitas
.”

“My
what
-
what
-
itas
?”

“Winter squash,” Will said, his once-longish hair newly shorn and oiled to the side, his beard trimmed and speckled with threads of gray. Where Ana once thought he looked like a lonely pirate, battered and brooding, today he resembled a forlorn sailor in his navy blue overcoat and dark jeans, every bit of him groomed and smelling of cedar and tobacco. “I've been trying to get the lovely lady's attention, but she's always occupied with other customers,” he said, looking over at Abbie, who had thrown a colorful scarf over her field jacket and jeans, her hair pulled up in a bun, her attention very deliberately focused on Ellery Jonas and Pearl Parnell, who were fawning over jars of marmalade.

“Is there something I can assist you with?”

“Don't go fully professional on me, kid. I know what's lurking under that tone. Barley wine and cider,” he said with a wink. “She's been coy about sharing them with me, but I've heard she's a true brewmaster.”

“I'm not allowed to touch those,” Ana said, even though the cases of bottles were directly under the table at her feet and Abbie had already sold several. “She's been up every night perfecting them, so I'm sure they're abnormally good, like everything else she makes.”

“Darling girl!” Ellery and Pearl sang as they scooted over to Ana and fussed over the swallow sweater and vintage jeans she had bought at their store.

“Isn't she just the most fascinating creature?” Ellery said, laying a hand on Will's forearm, her pillbox hat threatening to tumble into the mini pumpkins. “I just love how you've accessorized with that scarf in your hair. It's functional yet chic.”

“Devastating, simply devastating,” Pearl chimed in from behind enormous glasses, one hand clutching an oversize turquoise necklace weighting down her blouse. “With that hair and such an arresting profile, you're Klimt's Portrait of a Young Woman!”

The ladies moved on to another booth. Will promised to come back later when “the lady” wasn't so preoccupied. The day wore on and customer demand finally began to dissipate, so Abbie allowed Ana to help out at the Moon Pharm booth. On the way there, Ana wandered the grounds, breathing in the scents of cinnamon-dusted funnel cakes and smoked meats. Vendors were selling everything from home-baked pies to hand-loomed sweaters, and there were small crowds gathered around carnival games. Ana was drawn to the one booth sitting off by itself, constructed to look like a small house, the sign above it painted in whimsical lettering that spelled out
THE
HONEY
POT
. She approached and immediately recognized the proprietor, who sat in a rocking chair on the makeshift porch, hands holding on to the straps of his overalls while he stared off into the distance.

“Hello, Mr. Kinman,” Ana said.

“Squirrely! Good to see ya. Want a taste?” He dipped a small sample spoon into a jar of honey, which Ana immediately popped into her mouth, letting the honey coat her tongue before she swallowed.

“Heavenly—smooth and completely different from the last batch I tried. What flavor is it?”

“That's a well-kept secret,” the man said. “Tell me, how's tricks over in Garber country? Life unspooling in prosperous directions?”

“Yep. Working hard, trying to keep my grades up.”

“You've got so much swirling around in there,” he said
with a swish of his hand, indicating her whole person. “Let go sometimes, don't let it rule ya. I hear you've got a hell of a painterly hand. I'm assuming you're the one who painted the sign over the farm's booth?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Town needs more artists and sundry creative folk like that man from the city and his Crackin'.”

“You mean The Bracken?”

“That's the one. Fine fellow. Town's all up in shoulders thinking he's going to take over the saloon, but he's got his own thing going and is respectful to his neighbors. Yep, we need more outlaws in these parts. Place used to be full of 'em until gold and greed killed the grit and gumption. But I feel the tides changing.”

“How's your bear?”

“Well, he's not as spry as he used to be and has taken to wandering the forests with the owls, but he comes back to chat from time to time.”

“Tell him I said hi,” Ana said.

“Will do.”

She continued on to the Moons' booth, which was laid out with teas and tinctures concocted by Rye's parents as well as handwoven rugs, ceramics, and tribal art. Rye was hunkered down in the back of the booth staring into her phone, one leg nervously dangling over the other, when she saw Ana approach.

“Finally,” Rye said, pulling her apron off and throwing her fuzzy black sweater over the plaid shirt and jeans. “Let's blow this joint.”

“Rye—” Charlie Moon said with a grim nod.

“Come on in, Ana,” Della interrupted, ushering Ana behind the booth.

“You win for booth beautification,” Ana said. “Hands-down favorite next to Alder Kinman's honey.”

“Potty break,” Rye announced, causing her father to add a sigh to his nod. “We're taking a fairgrounds walk, a pit stop, and then we're going to check out the fireworks later, okay?”

“That's fine,” Della said. “Just make sure you let Abbie and Emmett know where you are and be back right after the show.”

Rye and Ana made their way across the grounds, avoiding recognizable faces from school, most of whom eyed the twosome as if they were either something to mock or be wholly frightened of—Ana couldn't tell. They stopped at the Lawson Dairy booth where Brady appeared to be holding court in an oversize suit, jabbering on to chuckling customers.

“Grade-A chocolate milk—best in town, folks!” he shouted.

“Looking good, little man,” said Rye as she and Ana sidled up to the counter.

“Where have you been?” Ana asked. “You haven't had lunch with us in a week.”

“Taking care of business, as you can see. Oh, and I've been devoted to Hessie Wakefield. She's tall for her age, but we're both in FFA together.”

“Sounds scintillating,” Ana said.

“On the house, ladies,” Brady said, sliding over two small cups of chocolate milk before resuming his sales pitch to the constant crowd.

Ana and Rye continued to stroll with their milk, sipping and making fun of various members of the football team paying to arm wrestle a burly-looking logger. The sun dipped down behind the tree-covered hills, the air nipping
at their rolled-up sleeves. They avoided Jim, Kelsey, and the rest of Cole's group of friends, who were laughing over by the rides. Though Ana didn't want Rye to notice, she kept her eye out for Cole.

“We need something stronger than milk,” Rye said, “especially for the fireworks. I figure we've got about an hour before we head up to the graveyard on the hill. It's the best view in town.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Oh, you know, maybe something to
enhance
the multicolored brilliance in the sky.”

“I'm not following . . .”

“Can be found in the forest? Sometimes you have them in soup?”

Ana continued to blink at Rye.

“They're
magic
ally delicious?” Rye said before sighing. “'Shrooms. I know a couple of people who get them in the forest and sell them during the fair specifically for this purpose.”

“Oh,” Ana said. “Yeah, I can't.”

“But they're from the earth; it's not like we'll be dousing our tongues in acid or sticking needles in our arms or anything.”

Ana took a breath. “Sorry, not into it, have to say no.”

“For someone who's spent time on the mean streets of an urban metropolis, I'm surprised you have no game when it comes to having fun sometimes. It's so not a big deal. People at school have done them.”

“I can't jeopardize my place here. They'd send me back if they found out. Plus, I don't want to. But you're more than welcome.”

“No buts, I get it. I'm going to the ladies. Do you need to?”

“I was going to head over to the food trucks,” Ana said, lying, hoping she'd run into Cole.

“Why don't I meet you back at my parents' booth? We can grab a bite on the way to getting our fireworks on. The best spot is all the way up that hill behind the church on the other side of Main. We'll have to walk a ways, but it's worth it for the view. I'll stop and tell Abbie and Emmett you're going with us before making my way back.”

Rye took off toward the restrooms behind Hadley High's football field. Ana wandered back toward the carnival games, curious to check out the tarot card woman sitting cross-legged on a Persian rug in front of a sawed-off tree stump. There was a line, just like at every other booth, so Ana turned back around to return to the Moons'.

“Hey,” Cole said.

“Hey,” she answered, doing her best to act as though she weren't happy to see him.

“How are you?” he said, doing the same.

“Fine. But then again, you see me in class every day.”

“And yet you still haven't spoken to me since the last time we talked, so . . .”

“Turkey legs.”

“What?”

Ana told her brain to tell her mouth to stop making a fool of herself. “Are you in line for a turkey leg? Because the entire concept seems surreal to me.”

“I was just walking up to the graveyard,” he said, putting his hands in his jacket. “Where are you headed?”

“Same place, apparently. What a coincidence.”

“Indeed, you might say. But then again, the tarot lady probably just foretold this moment.”