It hit the target smack in the center. For a moment Ned’s surprised face stared back at her. Then he dropped into the tank with a colossal splash. As he flailed around trying to get his footing, Sarah’s arms went around Jane’s waist and she said, “I knew you could do it! The heart helped you!”
“Yes, it did,” Jane agreed as the thunderous applause of the crowd filled her ears. Then Beverly Shrop was beside them.
“It looks like we have a winner!” she crowed, glancing sideways at Jane. “And here’s your prize.” She thrust a giant stuffed teddy bear into Jane’s arms. It was made of red plush and had a pair of white wings sewn to the back. In one paw was a bow and arrow. It was hideous.
“Now if you’ll all follow me I’ll take you to the outdoor theater for a pantomime production of ‘Dick Whittington and His Cat.’ ”
“Outdoor theater,” Lucy sneered. “She means the ring where the 4-H kids show their lambs.”
“Still, ‘Dick Whittington and His Cat’ is quite good,” said Jane.
“Oh, it is,” Byron agreed. “I played Sarah the cook in that one at the Surrey Theatre.” To Ben, who was listening with a puzzled expression on his face, he said, “You know, I was quite a respected panto dame at one time. My Widow Twankey was the talk of Drury Lane.”
Jane began to laugh, not even caring that Byron’s slip would require some explanation and coverup later. Then she saw that they were being watched. A dozen yards away, Walter and his mother stood observing them. Miriam’s face was set in a stony frown, while Walter’s eyes were fixed on Jane as he ignored the strawberry ice cream that was dripping from the untouched cone and down his hand.
Lucy followed Jane’s gaze. “Hi, Walter!” she called out. “Hi, Ms. Ellenberg!”
Walter waved, but Miriam turned and walked away. A moment later Walter followed her, giving Jane one last glance as he went after his mother.
“What a mama’s boy,” Lucy said.
“He isn’t really,” Jane said. “It’s just that he … it’s complicated,” she said inadequately.
“He needs to tell her to mind her own business,” said Lucy.
Jane ignored the remark, turning to Sarah. “I believe this belongs to you,” she said, handing the girl the bear.
“Me?” Sarah said. “But I didn’t throw the ball.”
“Ah, but if you hadn’t given me a good-luck charm, I never would have hit the target,” said Jane.
Sarah accepted the bear, putting her arms around it and squeezing. “Thank you!” she said.
“You’re very welcome,” said Jane. She looked at Byron. “Now let’s go home. I’ve had enough romance for one day.”
As they walked back to the parking lot and their cars, Jane looked at the people having fun around her. Some she was sure were there because any fair was an opportunity for fun. Others, though, were there because they were in love with romance, with the idea of love. These were the ones she envied. How wonderful it would be to be so innocent again, to believe that love really would conquer all. It was sentimental and foolish to think such a thing. She knew that. All the same, she wished she could be one of those people.
“I’m surprised to see you here.”
Jane almost ran into Jessica Abernathy, who stood in front of her holding a corn dog on a stick. She surveyed the group as if checking them for weapons, then said, “I thought you would be home working on your novel.”
Byron came to Jane’s defense. “We thought it would do Jane some good to get out of the house for a few hours,” he said. “You know, to unlock her brain.”
“I had no idea her brain had locked up,” Jessica remarked. “That would certainly explain some things.”
“I’m going home right now,” said Jane. “To work.”
Jessica smiled. “Excellent,” she said. “I’ll expect to see some chapters tomorrow.”
“Have a lovely time at the fair,” Byron said to Jessica.
The editor put the tip of the corn dog between her lips and bit it off. “Oh, I intend to,” she said as she began to chew.
“How I hate that woman!” Jane exclaimed as they walked away.
“Daddy says hating people is wrong,” said Sarah. “Isn’t it, Daddy?”
Ben looked at Jane. “Well …”
“Your father is absolutely right,” Jane said quickly. “I shouldn’t say I hate her.”
“But you do,” said Sarah. “I can tell.” She walked in silence for a few moments, then added, “I don’t like that woman either. She looks mean.”
“She’s not mean,” Byron said. “She’s evil.”
“Like the Wicked Witch in The Wizard of Oz?” Sarah asked.
“Worse,” said Byron as Jane motioned for him to shut up.
Sarah looked up at Jane. “Maybe somebody will drop a house on her,” she said brightly.
Jane glared at Byron, who grinned, patted Sarah on the head, and said, “We can only hope.”
Chapter 24
Jane glanced sleepily at the mailbox icon on her computer screen. Seeing that she had three messages, she clicked on the box to see what had arrived during the night. Maybe one of them will be something thrilling, she thought as she yawned. She touched the tip of her right fang with her tongue and vaguely wondered if it might be wearing down. Tom, seated on the desk, twitched his tail over the keyboard and meowed.
“Don’t start with me,” Jane told the cat. “Now that I know how to listen in, I know all the horrible things you and Jasper say about me when you think I’m not listening.”
This was not true. Try as she might, she hadn’t been able to pick up anything from either of them. But she suspected them—at least Tom—of harboring traitorous thoughts. Jasper, being a dog and a good-natured one, was less likely to be critical of her, she imagined. Still, she wanted them to think she might be on to them.
Tom blinked his big golden eyes, licked a paw, and turned his back on Jane to lie down in a puddle of sunlight that came in through the window. Whether he’d understood or her not, Jane didn’t know. Maddening beast, she thought in the direction of Tom’s back.
She looked at the three messages awaiting her. The first was a note from one Mr. Raymond Obatangu, the son of an unfortunately deceased official of the Nigerian government, asking her assistance in transferring $3.8 million from his father’s accounts into an American bank. She deleted this and went to the second email, which was a bill from the electric company. Finally she opened the third message and read it.
Jane:
Meet me this morning at 8:30 at Sunnyside Up. Bring chapters.
Jessica
Jane groaned. “When she said she wanted chapters tomorrow I thought she meant whenever,” she told Tom, whose lack of reaction suggested he didn’t care about her problems. Jane looked at the clock and groaned again. It was 7:45. And she wasn’t dressed.
She considered not going and then telling Jessica she’d received the email too late to make the meeting. But she was already in hot water with her editor, and she had to at least try to make the relationship work.
“Of course I have no chapters to show her,” Jane informed Jasper as she pulled open her dresser drawers in search of clothes. “So she’s going to be annoyed with me anyway.”
She pulled a black turtleneck over her head. “Why is she still here, anyway?” she asked the spaniel, who was now lying on his back with his front paws flopped over and his ears splayed on the carpet. “Does she really think breathing down my neck is going to get me to write any faster?”
She slipped her foot into one leg of a pair of blue jeans, repeating the process on the other side. “As far as she’s concerned, I can’t write,” she told Jasper as she pulled the jeans up and zipped them closed. “Which of course is all thanks to your former mistress,” she added, pointing a finger at the dog.
Jasper rolled onto his side and looked at her with his big brown eyes. “Don’t give me that look,” Jane told him. “I only rescued you from her because Lucy made me.”