“Bess, stand still!” Nancy shouted, grabbing a shirt from the back of a lawn chair. She threw it on top of Bess’s head to smother any sparks as Danny pulled Bess away from the fiery can.
Karen had quickly retrieved the lid and shoved it on top of the can.
“You okay?” Danny asked Bess, keeping an arm around her.
Bess gulped down water someone handed her. “I’m okay, it’s just my hair …” She held out a long strand of her hair and wrinkled her nose. “It got singed. It smells awful!” she said ruefully.
“Everything smells awful,” George said. “That smoke is really toxic.”
“Yes, this particular smoke is really the worst,” Danny admitted, turning to Bess. “You were lucky. Singed hair is almost normal during a raku firing, even with hats and bandanas. But what just happened here sure wasn’t normal!”
His frown deepening, Danny approached the can. “Whatever fueled that little explosion has burned up by now.” He motioned for Tom to take off the lid, then tossed a shovelful of sand into the container. “That’ll smother the flames.”
“So what happened?” Nancy asked as Danny leaned on his shovel and studied the can with a troubled gaze. “Whatever is in there smells like gasoline or oil.”
“What you smell specifically is motor oil,” Danny said, confirming her suspicions.
“In one of our reduction cans?” Tom remarked. “I sure didn’t put any in.”
“Except it’s not one of our cans,” Danny said. “Where did this come from, anyway?”
Karen cleared her throat. “I know,” she said in a small voice. “I wanted to be sure we’d have enough containers, so I took it from behind the pottery shed today. Sorry. I didn’t know there was oil in it. I just threw in some combustibles without looking inside.”
“That can’s probably left over from one of the staff firings. Someone who uses oil to get special effects,” a woman said. At the sound of the deep southern accent, Nancy turned. The voice belonged to a slim, muscular woman with gray streaks running through her long, faded-blond ponytail. She seemed to be in her fifties and had a chiseled face with striking blue eyes. Nancy’s glance drifted to her name tag, which read Ellie May Miller, Resident Artist, Ceramics Department.
Ellie May smiled at Karen. “You’re new this summer, and part of being an apprentice is making mistakes. From now on, though, you should check any barrels before using them.”
“Sorry, Ellie May,” Karen apologized.
Ellie May patted Karen’s shoulder. “Apology accepted, but now it’s my turn to apologize. As head of the ceramics department I’m responsible for our guests. Did anyone get hurt here?”
“No,” Danny said a bit nervously. “We were lucky. Just this girl—what was your name again?” he asked Bess.
“Bess, Bess Marvin,” she said. “And I’m okay, really. Nothing a bit of a haircut won’t fix,” she joked.
“Ah, singed-hair syndrome!” Ellie May commiserated. “Well, we do owe you an apology. If this whole experience didn’t scare you off, how about coming back Wednesday for our four-day raku workshop—including room and board—on the house?”
Ellie May nodded.
Bess grinned excitedly. “I’d love it.”
“If there’s space in the workshop, maybe we’ll come too,” George said, turning to Nancy.
“It does seem like fun,” Nancy said slowly, reading the workshop description over George’s shoulder. “But four days—I don’t know.”
“Come on, Nan,” Bess urged her. “You’ll love it.”
“Tell you what,” Nancy said, seeing how important her coming to the workshop was to Bess. “Let me sleep on it. I’ll decide by tomorrow. But both you and George should do it, with or without me.”
“What if the workshop fills up?” Bess wondered.
Danny exchanged a quick glance with Ellie May. The director nodded. “Tell you what. No matter what, we’ll fit in your friends. One of the houses has a three-person room in it. We’ll assign you there, so there will be room for all of you.”
“Not that anyone gets to sleep much around here,” Tom joked.
After Ellie May left, the three girls decided they had had enough raku for the day and set off to find Theresa Kim.
“Theresa’s booth is right there,” Nancy said, pointing to a spot on the vendor map.
“Great, it’s near Andrea’s setup,” George said. “Woodworking is so cool, and my dad’s birthday is coming up. Maybe I can find something for him.”
Nancy nodded as they strolled across the fair grounds, stopping to browse at various displays. “I’ve got my shopping list, too, though I’m not sure I’ll find much within my budget. This work looks pretty expensive,” she said.
“Prices are high here,” Bess remarked, checking the price tag on a pair of earrings on a jeweler’s table. “But the work seems better than at most of the other crafts fairs I’ve been to. I’m sure we’ll find something affordable.”
“Look!” George exclaimed, pointing toward the last row of vendors. “There’s Andrea’s table.”
Andrea was wrapping a wooden salad bowl for a customer while several other people examined her wares. “Let’s wait until her business has quieted down,” Bess suggested as they approached. “The booth next to hers looks interesting!”
“More like the craftsman does,” George teased under her breath. Bess gave her a playful shove and smoothed down her singed hair.
Nancy laughed, taking in the tall, auburn-haired guy sitting to one side of his booth. “Bess does have a point,” Nancy admitted, deciding this guy was definitely worth looking at. As they approached the booth, Nancy’s attention shifted from the guy’s worn cowboy boots to his display. Shelves behind him held tall, elegantly designed pewter pitchers, candlesticks, and bowls. Arranged on a display table at the front of the booth were serving plates, small metal sculptures, and mirrors with beautifully tooled metal frames. “This work is beautiful,” Nancy declared. “It could be in a museum.”
“Meaning it’s old-fashioned?” the craftsman asked archly.
Nancy bit her lip. “No, not old-fashioned. It’s just that it reminds me of stuff I’ve seen in the museum back home.”
“And where’s that?” the guy asked, leaning forward in his chair. He took off his sunglasses and hooked them over the neck of his T-shirt.
“River Heights,” Bess supplied before Nancy had a chance to answer.
The guy nodded. “Yeah, ever since that new crafts curator took over a few years ago, their metal collection has picked up. So I guess I should be flattered.” He treated Nancy to a broad, open smile.
Nancy’s eyes met his green ones. Nancy found him attractive but arrogant. The name on the tag on his shirt was Jonathan Walton. Still, as she examined a pair of salad servers, she decided he was good enough to afford a bit of an ego trip. Again, though, his prices were a bit beyond Nancy’s budget.
“Are you looking for something in particular?” he asked, standing up. He was well over six feet and had muscular arms.
“Just browsing at this point,” George answered, picking up a metal letter opener and balancing it in her hand.
“Not me,” Bess said, handing Jonathan a mirror she had been admiring. “Can’t resist this!”
“Nice choice,” he said, rewarding her with a smile. While Bess paid, Nancy asked Jonathan, “Do you know where Theresa Kim’s booth is?”
“Ah, the famous TK. She hates it when I call her that,” he added in a chummy tone that sounded pretty fake to Nancy.
“Sour grapes,” Andrea said, leaning over from her booth. “She is famous, because she had some pottery in Home and Design. And the truth is, a lot of people here are a bit jealous of Theresa. Speaking as her roommate, I can tell you, though, she’s an incredible potter and a terrific person.”
“Whatever.” Jonathan shrugged. “Anyway, she’s over there.” He waved down the row of booths.
Spectacular wasn’t the word for Theresa’s pots, Nancy realized as she and her friends stood in front of her booth a few minutes later. Nancy didn’t know much about ceramics, but she could appreciate the simple elegance of Theresa’s porcelain dinnerware and serving bowls. Her glazes were limited generally to a warm white or glossy black. Some of the larger bowls had tasteful gold-colored trim. Nancy could see why Theresa’s spare, modern work had been featured in a top design magazine.
As the girls approached, the petite potter’s back was to them. She was squatting in front of a carton, busily unwrapping dinner plates. Nancy winked at Bess and George, then put a finger to her lips and approached Theresa. “Excuse me, how much is that black bowl over there?” she asked.
Theresa straightened up and turned, following the direction of Nancy’s finger. “Ninety-five,” she answered with a smile, brushing a strand of thick, silky black hair off her face and tucking it back into her ponytail. She was only about five foot two and looked as if she barely weighed one hundred pounds. She wore a strappy T-shirt, and there was a scent of jasmine about her. Her complexion was flawless. Nancy remembered Theresa as a pretty girl, but she had blossomed into a beautiful young woman.
Nancy’s eyes met hers, and she kept smiling. Theresa cocked her head, and slowly her face lit with recognition. “It’s you!” she exclaimed after a beat. “Nancy Drew! Am I glad to see you!” she declared with a forcefulness that surprised Nancy.
“I wondered if you’d recognize me,” Nancy laughed, her curiosity aroused. Her instincts told her Theresa hadn’t tried to track her down because she was spending the summer near River Heights.
Theresa laughed a little self-consciously. “It did take a minute, though it shouldn’t have.” She giggled. “I guess we’ve both grown up.” Then her dark eyes grew serious. “So are you just here by chance, or what?”
“I got your dad’s message,” Nancy said.
“But didn’t he send you my e-mail address? When I didn’t hear from you, I figured he forgot to tell your dad I wanted to get in touch.”
“I thought I’d surprise you,” Nancy admitted. “So instead of e-mailing, I came.”
“Your work is awesome!” Bess said after Nancy had introduced her friends. She picked up a small white mug. She checked the price then asked Nancy, “Wouldn’t this be a perfect gift for Hannah?”
“Who is Hannah?” Theresa asked.
“Hannah is our housekeeper,” Nancy said. “I do love that mug, but actually, I was thinking of something more like this.”
She pointed to a cup and saucer set, then said, “I could afford two sets of these, which would be nice for a gift.”
Theresa made a face. “The one on display is my last one. “But I’ll have more next week, and I could send both sets to you.”
“But we’ll be back next week,” George said. “For the raku workshop.”
Theresa nodded approval. “Great, so we’ll be able to spend some time together. And my pots will be out of the kiln by Friday before the workshop’s over.”
“Except Nancy might bail,” Bess said, butting Nancy’s arm.
“But you have to come!” Theresa cried, visibly upset.
“I’d like to,” Nancy said, wondering why it mattered to Theresa. “But four days—that’s a lot. From what I saw today, one day of raku would suit me. Plus there’s all that downtime between making the pots and then the firing Saturday.”
“But there’s so much to do here,” Theresa told her. “Workshop participants are allowed to attend whatever demonstrations are going on in all the different crafts—woodworking, metals, fiber arts, bookbinding, papermaking—you name it.”
Laughing, Nancy put her hands over her ears. “Stop, you guys! I’ll think about it, and I’ll let you know tomorrow,” she promised Bess. “But in case I don’t make it back,” she said to Theresa, “I’m so glad we touched base.”
Theresa gave Nancy’s arm a squeeze. “I feel the same way. Nancy,” she said, dropping her voice but keeping her hand on Nancy’s arm. Nancy could feel that Theresa was trembling slightly. “My dad said you solve mysteries.”
“Well, yes,” Nancy admitted.
Theresa breathed a huge sigh. “You can’t believe how glad I am to hear that.” Dropping her voice even lower, she said, “I arrived here only three weeks ago, but I’m sure something really strange is going on. Strange and possibly illegal. You won’t believe what I—”
“How could you do something like this?” a rude voice interrupted, and Theresa glanced behind Nancy and gasped.