He nodded, understanding, but the spark had left his eyes. “That's okay. I understand.”
She wasn't sure she did though. The carnival continued its happy swirl
around them. Kids running from booth to booth, pockets of laughter breaking out
around the room, circus music whirling from the PA. She must have
unconsciously warmed to it. The easy conversations with the townspeople, as if
they were already old friends. The honest acceptance into their little group here.
It all felt so…safe.
She realized she hadn't said anything for a few seconds, rubbed her cheek with her palm. “Yes, sorry,” she said, scanning the glowing room.
“How long are you staying this time?”
“Just until tomorrow.” Her brain seemed to be in a slight fog.
“When will you be back?”
It was so direct, she swallowed. Not “if,” when. “I won't know until after the next meeting with my boss.”
“Oh, Okay.”
She wanted to say something. Something to reassure him. He looked so lost.
“Look, maybe—”
“Mr. C!” a student called behind him. “They need you at the balloon booth.
They don't know how to run the helium tank.”
“Be there in a second,” he called over his shoulder, then turned back to Kate.
“So, let me know when you're back in town, okay?”
“Okay.”
He gave a quick squeeze of her arm and left.
And then the light seemed to go out of the room, and she felt like a stranger
again. Someone who had just wandered into the place, sat down, and was pretending to be a part of the fun and familiarity.
“Kate? You have a customer.”
Kate turned blankly. It was Carol, smiling, gesturing with her eyes to a girl
standing patiently by the table, miniature smile on her face.
“Oh. Sure, hi.” She sat down on the chair next to the paint kit, then leaned
over. “What's your name, sweetie?”
“Eloise.”
“Eloise, very pretty. What would you like me to paint?”
The girl pointed to the sheet of examples. “I want a heart,” she said in her
tiny voice.
Kate swallowed, forced a smile, picked up a brush. Oh, sweetie. Don't we all. Don't we all.
Chapter Seventeen
The shower always felt good after a run, Peter thought. The boy's locker room at
the high school was clear Monday nights. Cross-country practice was early morning now. It was easier to just shower here than go home, especially since he
still had more work to do.
Work. Great, yippee. Spend three weeks slicing and dicing his way through a
budget proposal, trying to save the school some money yet still give his students
a chance, and all he'd have to show for it was cuts.
