Beware False Profits (5 page)

I looked straight ahead. “I guess I could check on her. Make sure she’s handling this all right.”

“You’d be a good role model, Ag. Maybe you’re staying home with the girls, but you’re still an independent woman. Could be Maura will pick up some confidence.”

“And Joe will come home, see the new improved model, throw away his three-inch heels, and live happily ever after.”

“I wish the world worked like that.”

Didn’t we all.

Junie wore a black pleated skirt that was long enough to hide all traces of her bright purple toenails. This was too bad because the purple exactly matched her hip-length velvet tunic, which in turn was nearly hidden by an assortment of gold and silver chains heavy with suns, moons, and stars. Her blonde hair was covered by a silk scarf hand painted with symbols from her favorite tarot cards, and peeking out below the scarf were gold hoop earrings large enough for an old-fashioned game of ring toss. She was sorry she hadn’t had time to dig through all the clothes in her camper, which was parked at the side of the parsonage, and assemble a really
good
costume.

We had persuaded her that no one would find her wanting.

My girls flanked Junie in the back seat of our van. Six-year-old Teddy wore a sweatshirt and jeans in preparation for the pony rides. Her older sister Deena, in a green ribbed hoodie and capris, was dressed to fit in with her friends, who would all be at Mayday!

“I still could have gone with Tara,” Deena said for the third time.

“I’m sorry our early return ruined your plans,” I said yet again.

“I don’t know why your coming back had to change anything.”

“Because Tara lives on the other side of town, and this saves her mother from making the trip. You’re going to see her the minute you get there. Shape up, okay?”

I didn’t have to glance behind me to know that Deena was pouting. I’m not sure exactly
what
plans Ed and I had ruined by turning up on our own doorstep earlier than expected, but clearly something was afoot. Of course now that she’s finally twelve, Deena never wants to be seen with us, but this seemed a little more emphatic than usual.

“I might get tired of riding the ponies,” Teddy said. “And throwing darts at balloons.”

“There are lots of things to do at Mayday! You can win a cake at the cakewalk, or play bingo for prizes, or get your face painted.”

“I might be bored.” She sounded worried.

“I’m sure some of your friends will be there.”

“If you get bored, precious, you can tell fortunes with me,” Junie said.

“I don’t know how.”

“Well, you can sit under the table. We’ll put a cloth over it, and you can hide. Then every once in a while you can lift the table and make ghostly noises, like there’s a spirit haunting the tent.”

Teddy giggled. I don’t think she realized Junie wasn’t teasing.

Ed—who did realize—tried to intercede. “Junie, she could scare somebody into a heart attack.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll read their palms first to be certain they don’t have health issues.”

Now that we had substantially contributed to Junie’s delusion that she could see the future, we would never again be able to have a semi-rational discussion about her abilities. I was silent. The best way to nip the table scheme in the bud was to make sure Teddy was happily occupied elsewhere during the fair.

“Do you believe in spirits?” Teddy asked her grandmother.

I settled back, content that the ensuing conversation would hold Teddy for the remainder of the ride. I just hoped Ed wouldn’t get involved, or we might never make it out of the car.

I didn’t really want to go to Mayday! Normally I would be more enthused, but with Joe missing and Maura making up stories to cover for him, the whole event just seemed out of kilter. Still, as we parked in the grass where men wearing orange armbands directed us, I hoped for the best.

The Helping Hands Food Bank occupies a five-acre spread not far from the land parcel Junie wants to protect. Nobody can complain about the food bank’s treatment of their property, though. True a large utilitarian warehouse built from recycled materials sits at the back of the lot where a smattering of trees once resided. But most of the trees were used in the construction of an administration building that resides closer to the road.

To one side of that attractive two-story building a one-acre community garden is already green with lettuce and peas. The garden serves two purposes. It provides a place to grow food for local families. Some gardeners eat everything they produce, but more often the surplus is distributed at the food bank. It also serves as a demonstration garden to encourage families who have room at home to add to the food supply. In the summer volunteers give instruction, seeds, and leaf mulch to anyone willing to till his own soil.

Some distance away, on the other side of the building, the aforementioned leaf mulch forms a pyramid.

The administration building itself houses more than offices. The downstairs is a store that provides clothing and household furnishings to families with limited incomes. Local social service organizations give coupons that are treated like cash, and families can choose what they need from good-quality donations, some crafted especially for the store. Although the food bank is a partnership among three counties, all administration tasks are performed here.

Today tents were set up on the expansive grounds between the parking area and the administration building. The scope was well beyond the typical elementary school fair. Although there were no mechanized carnival rides, I saw inflatable games, including a moon bounce and rock-climbing wall. May is too cold for a dunk tank, but we had our very own fun house—or more accurately a fun tent—complete with silly mirrors, mazes, and overzealous clowns who have catapulted more than one child into therapy.

To one side a small stage buzzed with activity as the sound system was checked for upcoming performances by local talent. A ring for pony rides would do a brisk business, and the midway with its combination of homemade and rented games would soon be packed with kids trying to win prizes their mothers would quietly dispose of next week.

This year the weather was nearly perfect. A few silvery clouds drifted overhead to remind us this was an Ohio spring, and shrinking puddles left from last week’s showers dotted the parking area. A breeze with occasional strong gusts whipped between tents, but the sun wasn’t taking no for an answer. The temperature was sweater-mild. I gave the girls money to buy tickets for the attractions and watched them take off for the ticket booth, hair streaming behind them. Teddy would wait for us by the roped-off entrance. For the rest of the afternoon Deena would pretend she didn’t know us.

“Do you know where they want me?” Junie asked.

I gave her costume the once-over again, just to make sure there was nothing I’d missed that would add exponentially to her growing reputation. While I’m dark-haired and thin enough to fit everything from my midriff down into a comfortable size eight, my mother is blonde, blue-eyed, and plump.

Junie is convinced she was Hapsburg royalty in a previous life. The fact that now, given a babushka and a shapeless sack of a dress, she can pose for a portrait of a sixteenth-century Eastern European peasant is karma she must bear.

Today Junie’s fortune-teller getup wasn’t that far from a shapeless sack and babushka.

“Agate?” she prompted.

“We’ll scout it out together,” I promised. The three of us picked up Teddy inside the gate. Ed was immediately way-laid by the president of our church board, a nice man who never quite knows when to quit. I signaled that Junie and I were heading off to find her tent, and we left him there.

“Just as soon as I get Junie set up, you and I can do whatever you want,” I told Teddy.

“I’ll be making a list.” She pushed her tortoiseshell glasses farther up her nose, as if to make sure she took in every possibility.

A quick perusal of the grounds didn’t turn up the fortune-teller’s tent, and since I’d only been to Mayday! once, I couldn’t count on my memory. I looked for somebody who might know and spotted the manager of the warehouse. I had been introduced to Chad Sutterfield at Joe and Maura’s party, and seen him a few times since, this being the small town it is.

I flagged him down, and we walked over to greet him. We were still a little early. In another half hour the grounds would be mobbed.

In case he didn’t remember me, I held out my hand. “Chad, Aggie Sloan-Wilcox. We met at the Wagners’ Valentine’s Day brunch.”

“Right, your husband’s their minister.” He shook my hand and nodded to my mother and daughter. “My parents used to go to your church when I was a teenager. I was unrepentant.”

Chad grinned wickedly, and I thought he wasn’t kidding about the last part. From what little I know, he has that reputation. Chad is uncommonly easy on the eye, with the rakish charm of Harrison Ford and a similar rangy build. He has brown hair and eyes and what looks like a Florida tan. Most noticeably he seems completely comfortable with himself and his place in the world. That latter is an indefinable essence that can’t be taught, and I’m afraid women are drawn to it like mice to peanut butter. It doesn’t matter if there’s a trap under all that yummy goodness. We are helpless to resist—or so we tell ourselves.

From my best friend Lucy Jacobs I’ve heard that Chad is a ladies’ man, but everybody seems to like him, even the women he’s kissed good-bye. His family is rich, and he’s generous and exciting to be with, although possibly just a shade too pleased with himself.

Maybe in the end women get tired of peanut butter and don’t mind a healthier diet. I’m in my midthirties, and so, I guess, is Chad. From what I remembered, no woman has stuck with him long enough to be a wife.

I introduced Junie and Teddy and explained our mission.

“Yeah, I heard Joe can’t be here. That’s a shame. But we’re glad to have you Mrs. Bluebird. I know you’ll be a big hit.”

“You can call me Junie. And Bluebird is my chosen name, not one on loan from a husband.”

He looked puzzled. I thought it better not to explain that Junie had chosen Bluebird because she was certain that in a prior life—well before she joined the Hapsburgs—she had also been a bluebird. As the story goes, there had been a fight with an evil rat snake and numerous unhatched eggs. I try not to think about it.

From the corner of my eye I saw Maura approaching. Her expression was unclouded, and she greeted people as if Joe was somewhere on the grounds repairing the sound system.

She joined us, a sunny smile lighting her lovely face. “So, is this your mother, Aggie?”

I made the introductions again. Maura beamed at Junie. “You are so kind to take Joseph’s place today.”

She turned to Chad. “I suppose you’ve heard?”

“No details. What gives?”

She was still smiling, but I thought I noted a different approach here, something more cautious and thoughtful. “Oh, he’s in New Jersey taking care of his mother. I’m afraid she’s”—she looked down at Teddy, then back up at Chad—“quite ill.”

“That’s a real shame.” He shook his head in sympathy.

“We all know the timing’s bad, but these things can’t be helped. So Junie’s agreed to help out. Aren’t we lucky?”

I thought Maura might not think so when the complaints began to come in, but I’m a firm believer in miracles.

“I suppose you don’t know when he’ll be back,” Chad said.

“Not right now, but I’ll keep everybody informed.”

“Because I have some things I need to talk to him about. Food bank stuff. Would a call be a problem?”

“He asked me to relay any messages, Chad. He needs to focus on his parents.”

“I never realized Joe was from New Jersey.”

“Born and bred. And there’s no one else to help. A very small family.”

I weighed what was happening here. Was it good that Maura had pulled herself together and was managing this conversation with such aplomb? Or was it bad that she was developing something of a talent for fiction?

I had no idea. That’s the problem with not believing the world is black-and-white.

Chad was making sympathetic noises. “So what can I do to help?”

“Well, I spoke to Hazel,” Maura said.

The ironic lift of his brow said it all. I was guessing
nobody
spoke to Hazel Kefauver unless the circumstances were this dire—or unless they were somehow locked together in the trunk of a car.

“As Food Supply Manager we both think you ought to do the opening speech,” Maura continued. “I know it’s last-minute, but do you think you can come up with something? You’re more or less second in command.”

“More or less,” he said with a grin.

She remained unruffled. “Will you do it?”

“Of course. Anything for Helping Hands.”

He said a few cheerful words to Teddy, who was not bowled over by his charm. I swallowed a lump of maternal pride.

Chad led Junie and Teddy off to show them the fortune-teller’s tent. It turned out to be the farthest away, in front of the warehouse, behind the midway, and under a thick grove of trees. I planned to collect Teddy in a few minutes and try to keep her busy elsewhere.

Maura waited until they were out of earshot. “I guess I did the right thing by asking him.”

I started with praise and edged into advice. “You did it very well. I just wonder if you ought to take him into your confidence. It looks like he’s going to be in charge for at least a day or two, and it’s going to be clear something’s up when you don’t give him a number for Joe.”

“I’ll worry about that when it happens. Maybe Joseph will be back by evening. We don’t know.”