Lorri checked her watch. Ever since Tinsley told her about the Leafland County Fair she hadn’t been able to get it off her mind.
Each day was packed with things to do, and she already had a spot all picked out for one of those birdhouses. She had every intention of being the first in line for that Make Your Own Birdhouse class today.
She grabbed the copy of the schedule from the printer and looked it over. If she left now she’d catch the 4-H opening ceremonies. She’d never been to a livestock show. She’d seen dog shows before, but she couldn’t imagine how children could run around a ring with farm animals. Her curiosity was piqued, and for certain the younger age classes would be adorable no matter what.
She updated her project records so she could shut down early for the day. There were two new projects in her inbox. One was a simple logo for a land developer, the other for a California vineyard. She’d done a whole campaign for them five years ago and ever since they hired her to do all the labels for their high-end wines and marketing materials to support them. It always earned her a few cases of the good stuff too, and her wine rack was impressive for it.
She set her out-of-office message and changed into a pair of jeans and a soft green shirt that was almost the color of her house. She grabbed her purse, but decided to tuck a credit card and cash in her pocket instead. One less thing to keep track of while she browsed and shopped.
“Come on, Mister.” He got up from where he’d been lying in the sun on the patio and trotted inside. He’d probably have been fine outside, but there was a chance for rain and if there was one weird thing about this dog it was that he loved playing in mud puddles. Even though she’d made sure there was a walk-in shower big enough to bathe him in, it was no easy task. Thank goodness he never seemed to mind lazing inside in the air conditioning.
Mister sprawled out on the cool terrazzo tile near the patio doors. What a life. “Can I trust you to be a good boy for a couple hours today?” He laid on his back and raised his paws in the air, twisting his torso like a candy cane. “That’s a little dramatic, even for you. I’m not even sure what that means.” She scratched his belly, then sat down with him for a minute to give him a belly rub.
Birds darted through the yard. A couple of bird feeders along with the birdhouse she intended to build today would be such a nice addition. “Here’s the situation,” she said to Mister. “I’ve got to go somewhere. Tinsley is busy, so I need you to behave for me. Deal?”
He rolled over and sneezed.
“Well, don’t be put out. You’ve made quite the mess in the past. I’m going to close off the back bedrooms. If you’re good, I’ll bring you a treat. If you’re bad, next time you get stuck outside for the whole day.”
His eyes got wide, the whites accenting the dark brown centers.
“I know that’s harsh, but you’re in control. Do we have a deal?”
He put his chin down on his paws.
“Excellent.” She pressed a kiss to his nose. “I’ll see you in a little while. You be good now.”
She wondered if she and Craig had had at least that much conversation over the past few years if their marriage may have stood a chance. Why do I even care? I’m happier without him, and what’s wrong with talking to my dog? He’s a better communicator than Craig was anyway.
Lorri walked outside. The sun was hot on her skin, but there was a breeze that offered a brief relief. She put on her sunglasses and pulled out of her driveway. Big, puffy clouds broke up an otherwise blue sky, making it an unusually comfortable day for August.
On her agenda, besides the birdhouses, was stopping in to show her support for Tinsley at the aquaculture booth, and since that was in the same location as the crafts, she was saving it for last, because she knew herself—she could spend a whole day looking at handmade things. She’d probably come home with a list of fourteen new projects. She’d start with the livestock tents, then attend the class before heading over to the craft building. If she could make the timing work, she hoped to see those racing pigs.
She drove across town toward the fairgrounds. In the distance, a red-and-white-striped tent top rose between two tall poles and a Ferris wheel peeked above the trees. Traffic slowed the closer she got, and then it came to a stop, inching forward at an incredibly aggravating speed.
Just as she was ready to try turning out of line and giving up altogether, traffic started moving. Colored pennant flags lined the entrance. Flagmen wearing bright orange safety vests waved people into the parking area, which was a dirt field. Thank goodness it had been a dry week.
She parked next to the truck that had been in front of her. Families walked hand in hand toward the gate. She fell in step behind them, awkwardly alone in the crowd of grouped families. She stepped to the counter, bought her ticket, and then went inside.
Music and ringing bells from the midway mixed with the smell of sugary treats and sausage dogs. Her stomach growled. She’d been so eager to get here she hadn’t taken time for lunch. Not that most of this food was going to supply much good nutrition.
Across the way a trailer selling cotton candy caught her eye. She’d never had cotton candy. It was time to correct that.
Lorri walked over to the counter. “One cotton candy please.”
“That’ll be five bucks. Pink or blue?” the concession clerk asked.
“Are they different flavors?”
“No. Just different colors.”
“Well, let’s go with blue then.” She handed the woman a five-dollar bill, who then plucked a paper cone from the top of a tall stack. She swirled it above her head as if it were a tiny baton, then spun it into one of the huge silver bowls twisting it in a circular motion in the sugary web until it was nearly as big as a bowling ball.
“Here you go.” She handed the sticky puff to Lorri.
“Wow. I should’ve asked for a small!”
“One size fits all. Enjoy.”
“Thank you.” She pinched off a piece of the fluff between her fingers and thumb and brought it to her lips. It melted away into a sweet nothing. Not bad.
The airy concoction flattened in her touch, and it didn’t take but a few bites before she realized she should’ve opted for the pink because her fingers were now blue.
She absently nibbled as she worked her way through the fairgrounds looking for the building where the birdhouse class was scheduled. She pulled out her map and got her bearings.
The livestock show was being held in the giant red and white tent. As big as a circus tent, it must’ve cost the county a fortune to put that up. She followed behind a group of people who seemed familiar with things. Strands of lights rose in a crisscross pattern across the entire tent. Duke-blue gates and panels filled the left side of the tent, and the ones on the right side were red. Banners hung above most of the pens. Pigs over here, goats and sheep in the blue pens, and cows at the end.
The pigs really didn’t need a sign. She’d already guessed their location by the smell. The group in front of her moved forward and she caught her first good look at the animals. A double-wide pen hosted a big old momma pig that had to be the size of a Volkswagen Beetle. From the sign zip-tied to the fence, she learned the sow’s name was Petunia. She appeared to be worn out, but then she had a bunch of hungry piglets vying for her attention even though Momma was trying to rest. They oinked and eeked, little tails wriggling in delight as they fought like brothers and sisters do for the best spot.
She stood there amused for a long time. A teenager stepped into the pen and refreshed the water and tidied things up.
“Is it unusual for them to have this many babies?” Lorri asked.
“Yorkshire sows usually have eleven pigs in a litter. This year she surprised us with fourteen, but she’s handling them all just fine.” He looked so proud.
“She’s a good mom.” Lorri was fascinated by this young man.
“I won a blue ribbon with her the first time I showed her. She was a lot littler back then. Her name is Petunia. She’s retired except for this breeding swine project now. I use a younger gilt from one of her other litters for the showmanship class.”
“Guilt?” Lorri had never heard the term.
“G-i-l-t.” He smiled. “That’s a young female who has never had a litter of her own.” His cheeks reddened slightly.
“You must be very proud of Petunia.” Lorri was impressed by his knowledge of the animals and how polite he was. “What happened to her ear? Did her piglets chew on it?”
The kid laughed, slapping his hand on his leg. “No, ma’am. Don’t think she’d stand for that kind of behavior. We notch all of our pigs’ ears. It’s how we identify them. You know, for breeding, immunizations, and all that.”
“I had no idea. Doesn’t that hurt?”
“Only for a minute. Some of them don’t make a peep. Can’t be too bad.”
“That is so interesting. Maybe I’ll see you out there showing later.”
“Maybe. My pens are the four at the end of this aisle.” He pointed to where orange and blue banners hung. “I’ll be in the senior showmanship class.”
“I’ll check it out. Thanks for chatting with me.”
“Yes, ma’am. Have a good day at the fair.”
The smell didn’t seem as bad now that she was in here. Fans blew throughout and she wasn’t really sure if it was to keep the animals cool or the stink down, but either way it seemed to be working.
She stopped to read one of the project boards hanging in the next pig pen. These kids worked hard on this stuff. There hadn’t been a 4-H program in her school that she’d known of, but these posters would’ve been right up her alley. She enjoyed looking at all the different styles. Some of the girls had bedazzled their posters and even had what looked like a onesie on their pig, probably to keep them clean for the show, would be her guess.
Something tugged at her hand and she squealed and jumped back, laughing when she realized that a black and pink pig with a big notch in one of his floppy ears had reached over through the fence to snag a lick of her cotton candy. He looked innocent, except for the blue tuft on his nose that was a dead giveaway.
“You don’t even look sorry.” She glanced down at the paper cone. It probably wasn’t appropriate to feed the animals, but he did start it. She lowered the cone and let him steal one more nibble before tossing the rest into the trash can. “What’s fair is fair at the fair, Mr. Piggy.”