In Search of a Memory (Truly Yours Digital Editions) (6 page)

“I’m not going back.” She tried and failed to retrieve her case, blowing out a frustrated breath at his persistence. “I’m… looking for work. Like I told you.”

“Where?” He dryly scanned the vast area. “As a tiller of the field? Were you going to ask the squirrels to hire you?”

“Funny man.” She glared at him. “In case it’s missed your notice, there’s a carnival over there.”

“Yeah, so?” He regarded her in stunned disbelief. “You’re hoping to find work at the
carnival
? Wait a minute….” His eyes narrowed. “Didn’t you say earlier that you’re visiting family? Next thing you’ll tell me, they run the fair.”

She fumed in silence at his mockery.

“So which is it, Miss Mornay? Out visiting family or looking to find work?”

“
Both
—not that it’s any of your concern. Now if you’ll please give me back my case.”

“Not a chance. I’m not letting you out of my sight, not till I know you’re safe.”

His words almost made her laugh with skepticism.
Safe? In the company of a Piccoli?

“I’ll be all right.”

“What if they don’t hire you? What’ll you do then?”

She hadn’t thought beyond asking for work. Hadn’t even planned to look for work at the carnival, until his bullheadedness forced her into the excuse. But it wasn’t a bad idea. In fact it was perfect. She needed more than two dollars, and with any luck she could locate her mother.

“That’s what I thought.” He answered his own question. “You haven’t a clue what you’ll do. Obviously you don’t have more than that”—he nodded to the bills in her hand—“or you wouldn’t have stowed away in my car.”

Two long whistles shrilled through the night.

“You’ll miss your train.”

“I can take another.”

“But what about your things? You might lose your baggage!”

“The porter will take care of what little I brought till I send a wire telling them where to deliver it. My family owns an interest in the railroad.”

The news didn’t surprise her.

“You’re not getting rid of me so easily, Miss Mornay. Until I’m sure that you’re out of danger, I’m sticking beside you every step of the way. My conscience won’t allow otherwise.”

“ ‘Out of danger,’ he says,” she grumbled beneath her breath, resuming her walk. “How’d a girl get to be so lucky?” And how could he talk about a conscience? His kind had none.

“I beg your pardon? I didn’t hear you.”

She gave him a sweet smile. “Since I can’t shake your company, may we please continue, Mr. Piccoli? I’d like the opportunity to speak with the manager before they close.”

“Of course, Miss Mornay.” His smile was just as phony. He inclined his head. “For tonight, I’m your obedient servant. Please, lead the way.”

She bit back a sharp retort. She was tired of arguing—her entire day had seemed composed of it—and if he truly meant her harm, he’d had ample opportunity to act before now. Even here, in a dark field with no one the wiser, he seemed to show nothing but consideration for her welfare.

Maybe, just maybe, she could be wrong about his motives in helping her.

Don’t fall for his smooth ways
, logic warned.

Remembering the articles about his family, about him, she would indeed be foolish to think that a Piccoli entertained anything more than a selfish agenda. And she wouldn’t be duped again.

Roland had met plenty of dames by the time he’d turned twenty-three. Some smart, some dumb, a few falling a notch somewhere in between. But he had no idea what to make of this woman erroneously nicknamed Angel. Not that she wasn’t as pretty as an angel; she was a real looker. And she could probably be sweet and pleasant if she tried. But she hadn’t an ounce of sense in that sleek head of hers, and he felt more as if he’d taken on the role of her angel, her guardian angel.

He snorted at the preposterous thought of himself as an angel. Maybe a fallen one. She darted yet another wary and long-suffering glance his way, as if
he
were the chip on
her
shoulder.

He should just let her stumble her merry way through the field to the carnival, now that he’d diverted trouble for her a second time. But he couldn’t bring himself to abandon the rash woman to whatever other dangers might await her recklessness. She reminded him of his sister, Gabriella—all spit and fire and independence, with no thought of where her hasty decisions could land her and no notion or experience of what to do when she got there.

He glanced at Angel’s stiff profile. Perhaps he’d been too hard on her, calling her an ungrateful brat. He’d been relieved to spot her then alarmed to find her ringed in by a gang of street hoods, and he had allowed his exasperation with her to flame into ire once the danger had passed. His harsh words escaped before he thought twice; he didn’t know her well enough to form opinions of her character. And she had thanked him, however curtly. Beneath the phony confidence she tried hard to exert, she was clearly alone and afraid. Grimly he plodded through the field of wild grass beside her.

“If we return to the station,” he said again, “I’ll buy you a ticket to wherever you want to go on the next train out of there. Only drop this screwy idea of joining the carnival. No telling what trouble you might find in a place like that.”

“I appreciate the advice, but I’ve made up my mind.”

“I’ve heard bad stories—”

“I’ll be careful.”

“I’ve yet to see that,” he muttered beneath his breath.

“Listen!” She turned on her heel. “You don’t have to hang around. No one’s forcing you. By all means, go!”

“I already told you how I feel about leaving you out here all alone, so unless you’re coming back to the station with me, you’re stuck with my company, missy.”

Drawing her mouth tight, she didn’t answer. Roland reined in his frustration, realizing that talking to her like his kid sister wasn’t helping. Finally they came to the fairgrounds. She asked a pretzel vendor where the owner was, and he pointed to a wooden ticket booth.

“Sorry, folks. We’re closing for the night,” the man said as they stepped up to it.

“Actually,” Angel said, “I was hoping you might have a job available.”

“You want a job?” The short, thin man with mustache and goatee beyond the brass grille window looked at Angel strangely, echoing Roland’s thoughts. “At my carnival?” He looked from the luggage in her hand back to her face. “I can’t pay much, with the nation’s crisis being what it is.”

“I don’t need much.”

“You running away from something, young lady?”

She hesitated, and Roland sensed it was because of his presence. “I’m looking for something,” she said at last. “Something I think I can only find here.”

The man, who reminded Roland of a dignified magician minus top hat and tails, raised neat eyebrows in surprise. “I’m not sure what you think you may find here, but my carnival isn’t all fun and games. We take our work very seriously. If you haven’t any intention of staying longer than a few weeks, it would be best for both of us if you’d just leave the way you came.”

“Oh, I can be serious. Please, sir. I need the work.”

He seemed to consider and held up a thick roll of tickets. “My ticket girl ran off two days ago, eloped with another one of my workers.” He eyed her and Roland severely. “I can’t have any funny business going on. I don’t want to be left shorthanded again should you two not find the carnival to your liking and take it in your head to run off.”

“Oh no! Y–you have it all wrong,” she stuttered quickly. “I hardly know this man.”

“Is that a fact?” He eyed her matching brown luggage still clutched in Roland’s hand.

“Yes. We met on a train, and this… gentleman came to my aid.” She hesitated with the word. “Please, give me a chance. I can sell your tickets. I’m good with managing money, and I get along well with people.”

Roland held back a snort of disbelief.

“Well, you do have an enchanting smile,” the owner drawled. “It helps to have beauty induce the tightfisted customers to loosen their wallets and buy more tickets.” He looked her up and down. “But selling tickets won’t be all that’s required. Each carny helps raise and dismantle tents and engage in preparations at each destination where we entertain. Likewise we work together in daily chores. Can you cook?”

His words came fast, his question unexpected. She blinked, taken off guard. “A friend taught me how to do a number of things in the kitchen.”

Roland wasn’t sure why, but he had the feeling she exaggerated.

“Fifty cents a month comes out of your pay for board, another fifty for food. Like I said, I can’t pay much. A dollar a week.”

She winced but nodded. “That’s not a problem.”

“All right then, young lady, I’ll give you that chance. The ticket girl who ran out on me was in charge of helping with breakfast. You’ll also have that job. You can share a car with Cassandra. The living lot is the train at the back of the carnival. Her car is painted with a woman standing bareback on a white horse. Tell her Mr. Mahoney sent you. You start tomorrow, since this day is done.” He locked up a small strongbox. “It’ll be a relief to hand this job over to someone else and return to my office. If you need me, my car is at the head of the train.”

“Thank you.” Anxiety melted off her. “You won’t regret this.”

“Let’s hope not.”

She turned to Roland, looking a bit sheepish. “Thank you, too.” She spoke under her breath so only he could hear. “I know I haven’t been the best company, and I wasn’t very nice when all you did was save me from that nasty situation earlier—both of them. But I’m not ungrateful. And I’m really not a brat.” She gave him the first genuine smile he’d seen, stunning him, and reached for her large case, which he still held. “This time it really is good-bye. I hope you aren’t late to wherever it is you were supposed to be.” She nodded in farewell. Her luggage in hand, she walked down the midway toward the tents shielding the carnival train.

Flabbergasted by her change in attitude, Roland watched her go.

“Something more I can help you with, young fella? In case you forgot, we’re closed for the night.”

Roland came out of his semidazed trance and turned his attention to the owner.

Foolish. Crazy. Absurd. He could think of endless words to describe what he was about to do.

“You wouldn’t happen to have another job for hire?”

Mr. Mahoney eyed the stylish cut of Roland’s expensive silk shantung suit. “
You
need work? You’re pulling my leg.”

“Dead serious. I heard all you told Miss Mornay, about pay and board, and those numbers are fine with me.”

The owner’s sly smile warned Roland he wouldn’t like what was coming. “Is that a fact?” the man drawled. “Well then, I might have just the sort of job for a strapping young fellow like yourself.”

Angel knocked on the railcar and stepped back to glance at the near-life-size mural of a slim blond standing atop a white horse. When no answer came, she set her luggage down and worked to slide back the door.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” A woman’s irritated voice came from behind, and Angel turned to find the painted image in the flesh, rhinestone costume, feathered tiara, and all. “That’s my car you’re nosing around.”

Angel picked up her luggage. “Mr. Mahoney said I was to sleep here.”

The woman eyed Angel up and down. “You’re my new bunk mate? Hmm.” Her reply left Angel clueless as to whether or not she passed muster when suddenly a smile lit the woman’s face. “All right then. Come on in, and I’ll show you around. I’m Cassie, by the way. Horse trainer and bareback rider extraordinaire. What do you do for an act?”

“I’m Angel. I was hired to sell tickets.”

“That can be an act in and of itself, so I heard from Germaine. She was my bunk mate, now happily married and away from this joint. Watch your step. Let me give you a hand with those.”

Angel gratefully accepted help with the luggage and grabbed both sides of the car to hoist herself up inside. Her new living quarters were sparse and cramped with two cots anchored one atop the other. But a row of sparkling sequin costumes hung in one corner, a woven blue and brown rug covered the floor, and a colorful oil painting of wild horses helped make things cozier.