Two of a Kind (17 page)

CHAPTER TEN

FELICIA HAD THE entire Fourth of July festival reduced to a diagram and a flow chart. She’d organized by time, location and type of booth. She was ready. Or as close to ready as one could be before the actual event took place. It wasn’t as if she could cook the food or anything, but if she could, she would have that started, too.

Thirty-seven hours and counting, she thought. Thirty-seven hours until the vendors arrived and started setting up. The deliveries had been confirmed, as had the workers who would help. The decorations were in place. Every light pole on the main streets had either bunting or a flag. She knew the exact time the parade would start and who would be in it.

She’d planned ops before. She’d been responsible for moving millions of dollars’ worth of equipment, not to mention soldiers, planes and boats, but nothing had prepared her for what it was like to be facing her first festival in Fool’s Gold.

“I can do this,” she told herself as she stood in the center of her office. She was strong. She was smart. She was not going to start hyperventilating. If she did, she might pass out, and hitting the floor would likely cause some kind of injury.

Focus on your office,
she told herself. She liked her office. It had lots of windows and commercial grade internet connections, and everything was organized the way she liked. She’d put Pia’s massive Rolodex into a database and then downloaded it to her tablet. She had access to more information than any president before 1990.

Neutiquam ero.
I am not lost.

Right. Because she wasn’t lost. She knew exactly where she was and what she was doing. She would keep breathing and everything would be fine. She was sure of it.

* * *

“I DON’T UNDERSTAND.”

Felicia smiled politely and pointed to the map. “Your booth is here.”

The tall, dark-haired woman in jeans and a T-shirt with a tarot card of the Magician glared at her. “I can see what’s printed on the page. I’m saying I don’t understand because that’s not my spot. I have the same spot every year. It’s over there, by the corn dog stand. I get a lot of business from people eating corn dogs. No doubt they’ve guessed that hideous, processed meat is going to kill them so they want to find out when their life is ending. I can help them with that.”

She moved her lips in what Felicia thought might be a smile, but it was hard to tell. It looked a little like a snarl, too.

“I’ve moved your booth,” Felicia told her.

“Move it back. People come looking for me. I need to be where they’ll find me.”

“They’ll find you very easily.” Felicia did her best to appear patient, even if she was getting frustrated by the woman’s obvious lack of vision. “You’re now going to be on the way to the park. People will pass by you as they go listen to the band playing. They’ll be able to sit and enjoy your reading without having to juggle their corn dogs. You’ll get more business.”

The woman put her hands on her hips. “I want to be by the corn dog stand.”

“That’s not possible. Rather than having the food scattered throughout the festival, I’ve created a food area. There’s no room for your booth there.”

“This is stupid. Where’s Pia?”

Felicia thought about pointing out that if the woman was as psychic as she claimed, she would have known her booth was moving before she got to Fool’s Gold. But she knew saying that wouldn’t help. “I’m in charge now.”

“She quit?” The tarot reader shook her head. “Figures. You get one person in a job who knows what she’s doing and she leaves. Now I’m stuck with you.” Her gaze narrowed. “You know I can put a curse on you, right?”

Felicia thought about the fact that she’d been trained to disarm an assailant in less than three seconds, but knew physical violence wasn’t an option. Or her style.

“I’m sorry you’re disappointed by your new booth location. I hope you’ll at least try to make it work. According to my calculations, you should have thirty-two percent more traffic, and that will translate into an increase in revenues.”

“Whatever,” the woman muttered and stalked off.

Felicia drew in a breath, determined not to let a single difficult incident color her view of her new job. Change was often met with resistance. By the end of the long weekend, the vendors would see what she’d done was a good thing.

“Hey, you that Felicia person?”

She turned and saw a big guy wearing a short-sleeved shirt with the name “Burt” on the pocket.

“Yes.”

“I’ve got the extra Porta-Potties you ordered, but I can’t put them where they go. There’s some guys building a stage or something.”

“Right. The Porta-Potties are going to be in a different location this time. In fact, in several.”

The man groaned. “Seriously? You’re doing this to me the afternoon before the Fourth of July. Where’s Pia?”

* * *

“IT’S EYE-CATCHING,” Isabel said, sounding doubtful. “The colors are bright, and the pictures turned out really well.”

Consuelo stared at the cheerful yellow booth framed with red, white and blue balloons. The sign would draw attention, she thought, staring at the large letters asking: “Do you want to marry one of my sons?” Two twenty-four by thirty-six-inch pictures of each man graced the front of the booth. Denise Hendrix sat at a desk in the shaded space, several photo albums on the surface, along with a stack of applications.

“It would scare the hell out of me if I were Ford or his brother,” Consuelo said.

“Kent,” Isabel said absently. “The other brother is Kent. He’s a math teacher. And he has a kid.”

Kent had the same dark hair and eyes as Ford, but his expression was gentler, Consuelo thought. There was something about his easy smile that drew her to his picture.

“Divorced?” Consuelo asked.

“Yes. I don’t know the details, though. Her name was Lorraine. When she took off, Kent handled it badly. Pining for her, because men are inherently stupid. Anyway, he moved back here and got a job at the high school. He’s smart enough and nice, I guess. A good guy, but you know, not very interesting.”

Consuelo turned to her friend. “Not dangerous enough for you?”

Isabel flipped her blond hair over her shoulder. “I’ll have you know I was wildly in love with Ford long before he was dangerous. No one truly loves like a fourteen-year-old girl.”

“And now?”

“I don’t know him.” She glanced around and lowered her voice. “Essentially, I’m still avoiding him. It’s not that hard. I suppose working in a bridal shop helps.”

Denise, an attractive woman in her early fifties, looked up and saw them. “Hello, girls,” she said, waving them into the booth. “Come to apply?”

“Not exactly,” Isabel said. “But the booth is fabulous.”

Denise smiled. “I’ve been getting a lot of applications.” She motioned to a pile of papers in a plastic box in a corner of the booth. “I’m also taking pictures of each of the girls that I’ll attach to the applications. I’m going to be checking all the information and their references before telling either of the boys.”

“Speaking of the boys,” Isabel said. “Do they know?”

Denise’s smile turned slightly wicked. “Not yet. I’m sure they’ll be upset when they find out, but that will pass. In a few months, when they’re happily married, they’ll thank me.”

“It’s good to have a plan,” Isabel said, then turned to Consuelo. “I’m sorry. I should have introduced you two. Denise, this is my friend Consuelo Ly. She’s new to Fool’s Gold. She’ll be working at the bodyguard school. Consuelo, Denise Hendrix.”

Consuelo shook hands. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“Denise, dear. Call me Denise.” Her dark gaze swept over Consuelo. “Are you single?”

“Yes.”

“Ever married?”

“No.”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty.”

Denise frowned. “Is there a reason you haven’t married?”

“I traveled a lot for work.”

“Any children?”

“No, ma’am.” Consuelo fought the need to take a step back. She knew she could easily shut down the other woman—physically or verbally—but this was Fool’s Gold, and she had a feeling she was supposed to treat her elders with respect.

“Do you like children?”

The question shouldn’t have surprised her, but it did. When she’d been a little girl, her mother had always told her to take care of her younger brothers. That she was the oldest and it was up to her. She’d done her best. Had tried to keep them out of trouble, but the neighborhood was tough and the allure of the gangs was irresistible.

Her youngest brother had died before his fourteenth birthday, the victim of a drive-by shooting. The other spent his life in and out of jail. She’d wasted years trying to show him there was another path, but he didn’t listen. Now they barely spoke. The only time he called was to ask for money, and she refused to give him any. If her mother were still alive, she would be crushed to know her family had fallen apart.

“I always wanted children,” Consuelo admitted. A chance to start over. To live somewhere nice. To belong. Loving a man was a risk she wasn’t sure she could take, but a child seemed safer. With a child, she could offer all she had.

Denise reached for an application, then pulled it back. “Are you planning on staying in Fool’s Gold?”

Consuelo nodded.

Denise’s smile returned. “Excellent.” She handed over the application, then turned to Isabel. “Unfortunately, I’ve heard you’re leaving in a few months, so you’ll understand why I don’t want you to apply.”

Isabel took a step back. “Not a problem. Good luck.”

“Thank you, dear.”

Isabel grabbed Consuelo’s hand. “We should go.”

Denise moved toward them. “Don’t you want to fill out an application?” she asked Consuelo.

“Um, no, thanks. I already know Ford and he’s not my type.”

“What about Kent? He’s very smart. And a good father.”

Isabel tugged, and Consuelo followed her out of the booth, while calling out a quick “Sorry.”

Isabel kept walking. “If it wasn’t ten-thirty in the morning, I’d suggest we go to Jo’s and get drunk. Was that as scary as I think it was?”

“It was unusual. You have to give her credit for initiative.”

Isabel laughed. “Is that what we’re calling it? I swear, if I wasn’t avoiding Ford, I would hang around the booth just to watch the explosion when he finds out what his mother is doing.”

She kept talking, but Consuelo wasn’t listening. Instead she found herself glancing over her shoulder and looking at the picture of the other Hendrix brother. The one with kind eyes.

* * *

FELICIA UNDERSTOOD THE various causes of a headache. Ruling out a brain tumor and an aneurysm, she was left with a host of innocuous causes. Most likely the throbbing in her temples came from a lack of sleep and the steady stress of her new job. When she next saw Pia, she would apologize for ever thinking what the other woman did was easy. Because in truth, this was the most difficult challenge she’d ever faced.

It was nearly five on Friday afternoon, which meant they were in day two of the festival. They’d gotten through the fireworks the previous night, along with the first concert. Tonight was concert number two—the main draw being a bluegrass band with the unlikely name of A Blue Grass Band.

“We’re in the park,” the lead singer was saying for possibly the eighth time in as many minutes. He had moved from the street to the sidewalk, perhaps in an attempt to intimidate her by appearing taller.

“I know,” Felicia said, hoping she could maintain her air of patience and understanding. In truth she wanted to pick up the nearest large object and beat the man with it until he stopped complaining.

“Why are we in the park? We’re never in the park.”

Felicia drew in a breath. “You’ll have more seating there. We’ve set out chairs on both sides, with a large grassy area in the middle. The sound will travel better without the buildings so close. The food court leads directly to the park, increasing traffic flow. People who didn’t plan to come hear the music will be drawn in. Attendance was up last night by twenty percent, as were CD and T-shirt sales. You’re going to have to trust me on this.”

“I don’t think you have the right energy for this job. Where’s Pia?”

“Unavailable,” Felicia said, doing her best not to grit her teeth. “And if you want to complain, you’ll have to get in line. I believe someone is already putting a curse on me.”

“This sucks,” the twentysomething man told her. “And you bite.”

With that eloquent insult, he stalked away, leaving her clutching her tablet.

She had forty-eight more hours, she thought grimly. With luck, she would be in bed by midnight and able to sleep until six. The same on Saturday. Which meant twelve of the forty-eight hours would be spent pleasantly. She couldn’t say the same for the other thirty-six.

“There you are.”

She sucked in a breath and turned to see Ford striding toward her.

“You let my mother have a booth to find me a wife.”

She started walking. “Get in line.”

“What?”

“Everyone has something to complain about. I don’t want to hear it.”