Jane tuned Julia out as she continued to rave about the irresponsibility of pop stars, how no one respected directors anymore, and how she ought to have signed on to the independent film about the Brazilian street orphan who was found to be the reincarnation of the Dalai Lama.
“I bet Kathryn Bigelow doesn’t have to put up with this crap!” she raged. “I’m giving that girl two minutes to get out here or I’m quit—”
“Here I am,” said Chloe.
Jane looked up to see the girl standing there smiling. The hives were gone and her skin was flawless. There was a glow about her that hadn’t been there five minutes before. Jane recognized it at once, and she looked at Chloe with raised eyebrows.
Chloe nodded slightly. Then she looked at Julia and said, “I’m sorry about before.”
“Then you’re ready to shoot now?” asked the director.
Chloe beamed. “Of course,” she said. “I just needed a little snack.”
Chapter 23
If the heart-shaped gates festooned with hundreds of red and pink roses weren’t enough to let anyone entering the fairgrounds know that love was the theme of the carnival, the half dozen men dressed like cupids walking around handing out candy hearts would have provided an additional clue. One—an attractive, well-muscled redhead wearing a short white tunic and little else—approached Jane and held out a basket. Jane shook her head firmly and walked away.
Lucy, however, took a handful of hearts. She handed one each to Byron, Ben, and Sarah. “What do they say?” she asked.
Ben peered at his. “ ‘Kiss Me,’ ” he read.
“Don’t mind if I do,” said Lucy, giving him a peck on the cheek.
“Mine says, ‘You’re Cute!’ ” said Sarah. “I already know that. I should get another one.”
Lucy looked at the candies in her hand. “This one is perfect for you,” she told the little girl as she handed her another heart.
“ ‘Girl Power,’ ” Sarah read. “Only it’s spelled G-R-R-L. I like that.” She popped the candy into her mouth, then growled. “Grrrl power,” she said.
“And what’s written on your hard little heart?” Jane asked Byron, smiling tightly.
“Mine is slightly less thrilling,” Byron said. “It says ‘Love Bug.’ I have absolutely no idea what that means.”
“It means you’re infested,” said Jane.
“You’re just determined to have a horrible time, aren’t you?” Lucy said to Jane. She hooked her arm through Jane’s and walked beside her. “Come on. It isn’t that bad.”
“It’s worse,” Jane countered.
Lucy laughed. “Cheer up, or I won’t tell you what my heart said.”
“Let me guess,” said Jane. “It said ‘Sour Puss.’ ”
“That would be for you,” Lucy teased. “Guess again.”
“I don’t want to guess,” said Jane. “I want to go home.”
“Quit being a big baby,” Lucy said. “Revel in the hideousness of Beverly Shrop’s festival of romance.”
“It’s more like a nightmare,” Jane groused.
“Fine, I’ll tell you,” said Lucy. “It said ‘Marry Me.’ ”
Jane raised an eyebrow. “No wonder you ate it so quickly,” she said.
“Oh, I didn’t eat that one,” said Lucy. “I saved it. The one I ate said ‘Tell Jane to take the stick out of her butt and have a good time with her friends.’ ”
“Cheeky candy,” Jane said, feigning offense. Then she laughed. “And why are you saving the other one?”
Lucy leaned in. “Maybe I’ll give it to Ben later.”
“You wouldn’t!” said Jane.
Lucy shrugged. “You never know,” she replied. “I’m feeling impulsive.”
“What are you two whispering about?” Ben called out.
“Yeah,” Sarah agreed. “Whispering is rude.”
“I’m just telling Jane that she needs a funnel cake,” said Lucy.
Jane groaned. “You live to see me suffer, don’t you?” she said.
The five of them continued to stroll through the festival. Jane had to admit—albeit very grudgingly—that Beverly Shrop had managed to put together a fairly impressive event. Although many of the vendors and attractions were typical of any small carnival, they had been altered slightly to highlight the theme of romance. A ring toss game was played with giant fake diamond rings. Pink cotton candy was puffed into the shape of hearts. Strolling clowns made balloon flowers and handed them to happy passersby.
Even the prizes for winning the games were apropos of the romance motif. Those who were able to hit a target, select the winning rubber ducky from a pool, or correctly guess under which coconut shell the red ball was hidden received copies of popular romance novels instead of stuffed bears or tacky plastic toys. Beverly had thoughtfully provided each booth with stacks of pink canvas book bags embroidered with her website’s name and logo. Everywhere they went Jane and her friends were among a sea of advertisements for ShropTalk.com.
Jane very much wanted to talk to Byron about Beverly, specifically about the progress Ned was making with romancing her. She knew that he had asked Beverly out for dinner the night before last, but she’d had no report on his results. She wondered now if it had been worth trying. Given Ned’s past behavior, Jane feared he might inadvertently give them away.
Not that she and Miriam don’t already know Byron and I are vampires, she reminded herself. But they don’t know that we know that they know that we’re vampires. That’s something. And hopefully they don’t know about Chloe.
Although Lilith had seen Jane bite Chloe, it seemed she had not realized that Jane was turning the girl and not just feeding on her. Further discussions with the little dog had turned up no evidence that Miriam knew anything about any other vampires being in Brakeston (and they had been careful not to let Lilith know that there were any, lest she tell her mistress). Jane found this both interesting and befuddling, as they still didn’t know how Miriam had found out about Byron. Lilith didn’t know either, or was lying when she said she didn’t, but Jane was fairly confident the dog was telling the truth. Bacon had a way of bringing out the truth in her.
She was trying very hard not to imagine Ned on a date with Beverly when they turned a corner and found themselves blocked by a group of women. They were all looking in the direction of a large tank of water. Perched above the tank on a small seat connected to a metal arm was Ned. He was dressed in the costume of a Regency gentleman, and above him was a sign reading DUNK DARCY.
Beverly Shrop herself was standing on a raised platform beside the tank. She too was done up in a costume suitable for a woman of Jane’s time, although Jane thought the dress slightly too young for a woman of Beverly’s age.
“Who will try to dunk our Mr. Darcy?” Beverly cried out, her amplified voice trembling with excitement as it trickled from a tinny speaker. “Five dollars gets you three chances to send him into the drink. As you can see, he is still dry. Won’t you be the first to get him wet?”
“Well he’s gone and got himself into it, hasn’t he?” Byron remarked. “Good boy, our Ted.”
“Ned,” said Jane. “I think.”
“Come now,” Beverly called. “Surely there’s one among you who has always wanted to give Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy a good dunking. How about you, madam?”
Beverly pointed to a middle-aged woman dressed in too-tight red pedal pushers and a T-shirt reading TEAM EDWARD. The woman giggled and covered her mouth with one hand, the other being occupied with holding a bulging pink ShropTalk.com tote. The woman’s friend, equally middle-aged and wearing what appeared to be a tribute to Scarlett O’Hara, nudged her friend forward. “Go on, Ellie,” she said.
Ellie handed her bag to her friend and made her way through the crowd of onlookers. Beverly stepped down from the platform and handed the woman three softballs.