Damsels in Distress (18 page)

“Must have been hard on you,” I said with as much sympathy as I could muster.

He stopped in the living room and began to remove his armor. “I got over it. Got married myself, but it didn’t work out. At least I admitted it. I suppose Lanya and Anderson feel like they have to wait until the children are older before they can get divorced. He’s not sitting on the sidelines until then. You’re likely to be the first woman who hasn’t succumbed to his flattery.”

It didn’t seem appropriate to bring up Salvador’s remark about Lanya’s consort in infidelity. “I’m going to try on the gowns, Benny. You don’t need to wait for me.”

“I was hoping you’d let me lace up your bodice.”

“Don’t hold your breath.” I went into the bedroom and closed the door, and then locked it. On our walk to the house, Benny had been a bit unstable on his feet, either from the weight of the armor or from excessive tippling. He could break down the door within a matter of seconds. However, I was reasonably confident he wouldn’t try, not with the likelihood that other members of ARSE might prefer to use the bathroom in the house rather than the more primitive facilities in the pasture. Within minutes, I heard several doors open and close, indicating we were not alone.

The gowns on the bed smelled musty, and one of them had been packed away with a stain on the sleeve. Lanya had been slim in her earlier days, I thought as I held up a pale blue gown (with a subtle undertone of lilac, which Mrs. Jorgeson would appreciate). Attractive enough to have at least two men panting after her. Even flirtatious, although it was harder to envision. I put down the blue gown and eyed an emerald green one with a low neckline and gold piping on the sleeves and waistline. Lady Clarissa might as well seize the moment, I decided. I had just slipped off my shirt and shorts when I heard voices.

I do not condone eavesdropping. A large percentage of what is heard is trivial, and hardly worth the effort. The rest of it would have been better left unspoken. Had I not been mostly unclothed, I would have opened the bedroom door and made known my presence. At the moment, all I could do was struggle with the gown, which was failing to cooperate.

“What am I going to do?” Fiona demanded from the living room. “Don’t just shake your head at me! It’s your problem, too.” The response was low, nearly inaudible, but clearly male. It could have been Benny, but I’d heard other members of the royal entourage coming and going, too. In any case, whatever was said displeased Fiona. “I don’t even want to hear it! You lied to me, you son of a bitch! I could get fired if this gets out.”

I gave up trying to pull the gown up over my hips. I made sure all the tiny hooks on the back were undone, then began to wiggle it on over my head. It wasn’t too small for me, and there had to be a way to get the waistline past my shoulders. Dresses, even faux Renaissance gowns, were designed to be worn. This one had obviously been designed by a man. Conceived, sketched, and sent to production without a thought given to practicality.

Fiona’s voice shot up an octave. “You’re lying, and we both know it! How dare you stand there and offer these pitiful excuses!” Again, I could not make out the response. “No, you have an obligation, and you’re going to live up to it. Otherwise, I swear I’ll dance on your grave!”

I was so startled that I lost my balance. Unable to see anything with the dress over my head, I stumbled into the bed and then fell back on the floor. I yelped in surprise, as well as pain. For a brief moment, I fought to figure out where I was and why everything was dark.

The front door slammed. I took several deep breaths until I began to regain my senses. I wondered if I resembled a stalk of broccoli on the bedroom floor. As I pushed the dress back over my face, I heard the door close once again, this time softly. A moment later, yet another door slammed somewhere farther away. A busy house, considering everyone was supposedly in the pasture. Fiona had made a dramatic exit and was surely back there by now. I had no idea about the man upon whose grave she would dance if he failed to fall into line. Julius might have backed out on the engagement, but that would not have an impact on her teaching position…unless she was pregnant. Farberville was a fairly liberal place, but the conservative faction made itself heard whenever old-fashioned family values were at risk. Creationism had not yet crept into the school curriculum, but neither had any mention of alternative lifestyles, sexually transmitted diseases, gun control, political dissent, or other heresies that might warp young minds that had grown up watching R-rated movies and playing violent video games.

I realized I was ready to throw Fiona a baby shower, based solely on speculation. She just as well could have been embezzling money from the math club coffers, sending poison-pen letters to her colleagues, or even moonlighting as a dancer at one of the so- called gentlemen’s clubs.

The green gown was crumpled on the floor. I picked it up, flapped it to shake out the wrinkles, and dedicated my wiles to getting into it. I succeeded at last, although I was unable to hook it up properly. Without a lady-in-waiting waiting, I did what I could, put on my sandals, then stood in front of the dresser mirror to run my fingers through my hair. I must admit I looked quite elegant. The gown fit loosely, but at least part of that would be rectified when it was secured in back. The neckline stopped short of scandalous by a fraction of an inch. Pearls would have been nice, an emerald necklace superb.

I opened the bedroom door and peered out. Benny’s armor was gone. The house felt empty. I hurried out the front door and headed along the driveway toward the fair. As I reached the back of a row of tents and stalls, I spotted one of the college girls smoking a cigarette and gazing at the sky, no doubt pondering a problem in quantum mechanics or the impact of a free-trade agreement with a South American country on the global economy. I approached her just as she ground out her cigarette, and asked her to help me with the dress.

“How quaint,” she said in a patronizing voice as she deftly dealt with the hooks. “If you’re looking for your knight, he came by a while ago. Sexy guy, for his age, and a real sweetie. He invited me to take a stroll after the sword fighting.” She smiled knowingly at me. “I suppose he can get in and out of his armor pretty damn fast, with the right encouragement. I told him I have a date tonight, but that he could call me sometime.”

“How lovely for both of you,” I said. “Thanks for your help— and good luck with Benny.”

“You sure you don’t mind?”

“Not in the least.” I went between two tents and found myself on the main walkway. There was no sign of Luanne, but I figured we’d meet up at the food court sooner or later. I was eager to see Caron and Inez. As I hesitated, trying to remember the locations on the map, an unfamiliar woman asked if she might take my photograph with her grandsons. Surprised, I nodded. As I posed with two grimy little boys dressed in shorts, black galoshes, and plastic pirate hats, I noticed I was garnering admiring looks from the crowd. I take small satisfaction in my modesty, but this was fun.

Lady Clarissa of Farberville, benevolent patron of booksellers, kind to small children, gracious to smirky college girls. My smile was, to be candid, radiant.

I patted the little beasts on the head and fell into step with the crowd. As I went by the Royal Pavilion, I noticed that neither the Duke nor the Duchess was holding court. Glynnis and William Threet were doing their best to organize a platoon of Brownie scouts to participate in a maypole dance. Unsurprisingly, Glynnis appeared to be on the verge of tears. I didn’t blame her.

I paused to look at a display of metallic wind chimes, and then at ceramic gargoyles and dragons. I cut across the traffic to a stall with crystal figurines, tempted by an array of unicorns. After careful study, I bought a small one for Caron as a souvenir and waited while the pleasant young woman wrapped it in several layers of tissue paper. Pleased with myself, I returned to the ceramics stall and bought a whimsical elf for Mrs. Jorgeson’s garden. As I hesitated, wondering what I might buy for Peter, a band of teenaged pirates swaggered by. Presumably, Louis Wilderberry was among them, although I had no idea which one he might be. They had not taken pains with their costumes; they wore old jeans hacked off below the knees, striped T-shirts, scarves around their necks, and cardboard hats with sloppily painted skull-and-crossbones insignias. A few had glued on mustaches, and others sported eye patches. They were lustily shouting pirate sorts of phrases like “yo ho ho” and “shiver me timbers.” Brawn, but sadly lacking in imagination. They looked incapable of boarding even the Peru children’s makeshift raft.

I knew it wouldn’t be prudent to offer my opinion to Caron. One of these days, I thought as I moved on toward what I hoped was the food court, she would snap out of her infatuation. And the sooner, the better.

Instead of picnic tables and stalls with turkey legs and lemonade, I found myself at the archery range. Salvador smiled at me as he helped a child position an arrow and draw back on the string. He, too, was dressed in garb, in this case consisting of an embroidered shirt with billowy sleeves, a leather vest, and noticeably tight breeches. The arrow flew well over the paper target taped on a bale of hay and into the thicket of scrub pines. Scowling, the child threw down the bow and stalked away, muttering phrases he should not even know.

“Three tries for a dollar,” Salvador called to me.

“And what do I win?”

“My heart and my undying devotion, Lady Clarissa. Or perhaps milady fancies becoming a baroness. Firthforth would gladly welcome an heir with auburn locks and inquisitive green eyes.” He picked up the bow and joined me. “You are most becoming in that gown, although I am sure you would look more splendid without it. What say you to a walk in the woods to collect the errant arrows?”

Despite his gleaming smile, he looked pale. I frowned at him as I said, “Are you okay, Salvador? Do you need to sit down in the shade?”

“I can think of a very shady spot near the creek.”

“I’m serious,” I said. “You look ill. If I could find the food court, I’d get you a glass of lemonade. You’ll have to give me directions, though. I looked at a map, but now I’m totally confused.”

“So am I,” he said softly.

“Oh, look,” boomed a woman dressed in a kilt for reasons difficult to fathom. “Give me a dollar, Earl. I want to shoot an arrow into the air, and let it fall I know not where. Stop gaping and get out your wallet.”

Earl was gaping at me, naturally. After his wife elbowed him in the ribs, he took out his wallet and found a dollar. “You ain’t gonna win yourself a stuffed animal like at the county fair, Eileen,” he said as he handed the bill to Salvador. “There ain’t no rides, neither, and I’m gettin’ tired of all these pretty boys prancin’ around. Shoot your damn arrows and let’s go home. I can still catch the last couple of innings of the ball game.”

Eileen looked as if she were considering a target other than the one on the bale of hay. However, she allowed Salvador to put his arms around her and help her with the bow, and on her third attempt managed to nick the target. “All right, Earl,” she said coldly as she handed to the bow to Salvador, “we can go home soon as I have a chance to buy some little presents for the grandbabies. Fairy wings and a wand for Rose Marie, and maybe a pirate hat for Kevvie Junior.”

Grumbling, Earl followed her back toward the vendors’ tents. I sat down on a bench and watched Salvador as he put the bow on a rack and counted the arrows remaining in a pile. I was about to continue our conversation when the Brownie scouts descended, chirping excitedly like a flock of chickadees. Their two leaders, most likely mothers, were too busy counting heads to acknowledge my smile as I left.

Once in the labyrinth, I tried a different direction. The sun was relentless. I ducked into shade whenever I could, and finally arrived at a low wooden platform that functioned as a stage. One of the local librarians was dressed in a pink Cinderella outfit topped with a rhinestone tiara. She was telling a story to a rapt group of children. Each time she swished her wand through the air, glitter sparkled in the sunlight. Behind her a row of fairies, clad as Caron had described, fluttered on cue. They were somewhat cute, I supposed, although their green faces and pointed ears gave them a faintly menacing demeanor. Although I had met some of them, it was difficult to differentiate one from another. Which isn’t to imply I gave it much effort.

I tried again to find the food court, and after an unfortunate glimpse of a mud-wrestling competition, arrived at an area with a dozen picnic tables and the heady aroma of food, glorious food. It was now well into the afternoon, and I’d had nothing since a skimpy breakfast and my daily overdose of caffeine. Luanne was seated at one of the tables, a turkey leg bone on a paper plate nearby.

As I approached, she raised her eyebrows. “Why, how nice to see you. Been off vying for the role of prom queen? No roses, I see. Were you first runner-up?”

I was more interested in eating than engaging in witty repartee. “How was the turkey leg?”

“Greasy, but not too bad. Your face is flushed. Sit down and I’ll go get you something to gnaw on. Ale or lemonade?”

“Lemonade,” I said. “Have you seen Caron and Inez?” “Indeed I have. A couple of their crew didn’t show up, so they’re peddling ice cream bars in that stall right over there.” “I don’t see them.”

Luanne grinned. “They must have seen you coming. It may take me a while to convince them to stop cowering behind the counter. Instead of lemonade, you’d better have a cup of ale. Maybe two.”

“That bad?” I said, glancing at the stall that appeared to be uninhabited.

“I don’t think so, but I’m not one of their mothers.”

Chapter Nine

I
sat numbly, expecting the worst—even though I wasn’t sure what it might be. I do not consider myself to be an overly protective mother, but I do tend to forget that my baby is old enough to drive a car. As well as old enough to drive me crazy. Despite the increasingly oppressive heat, I felt a chill. Somewhere in a befuddled corner of my mind I heard Luanne pointing out that they couldn’t dodge me indefinitely. I wished they could.