Chapter One

Charlotte rolled down the car window and let the warm air swirl in, imagining the scent of cotton candy, fair burgers, and barbecue. She smiled as she noticed the large semitrailer driving ahead of her, illustrated with colorful clowns and the words FUN HOUSE painted on its side. The rides were arriving, which meant the horse trailers and family campers soon would follow.

“Fun house—they should come to our house, right, Christopher?” She clicked on her left turn signal and turned onto Lincoln Street.

“Yeah, it’s a little crazy. I didn’t know the fair would make the town like this.” Christopher twirled his finger next to the side of his head.

“It’s like this every year, and we’re especially busy getting projects ready to be entered, helping the church set up its pie booth, attending the rodeo and pig-wrestling events … and, of course, serving on the fair board.”

“The fair board? What’s that?”

“The fair board is the group that organizes what’s happening at the fair and decides what entertainers to bring in each year.”

Christopher gasped from the passenger’s seat, and Charlotte glanced over at him.

“You decided that?” Christopher scratched his blond head and wrinkled his nose.

Charlotte laughed. “Well, I wasn’t the only one who decided on that, but I did vote that it was a good idea. Everyone says Shae Lynne is a popular, new singer, although I really haven’t kept up with those things.”

A family, all dressed in jeans, boots, and cowboy hats, paused at the sidewalk, and Charlotte stopped the car and let them cross the street in front of her, offering a friendly wave. She was on her way to Rosemary’s house to drop off the pies she’d promised to make and donate for the church’s fair booth. Rosemary had an extra freezer where the pies would be safe until fair time. Keeping them at home, Charlotte knew, would be far from safe. Not only was there no extra room in their freezer, but any pie in their house was considered “open game” to any of the kids—or worse, to Bob, who didn’t need the sugar. More than that, taking them into town now got another item checked off Charlotte’s to-do list. The idea of baking and taking fresh pies to the fair on Monday would be impossible with so much else going on.

Up and down Lincoln Street, every window was plastered with posters advertising the fair—although, truth be told, it really didn’t need much advertisement. No visitor could walk around Bedford for ten minutes without knowing what was up. For many, the fair was the highlight of the summer. Every conversation centered around it, and for some, life changed for the week. Many livestock families even camped at the fairgrounds during fair week to take care of their animals.

“Look!” Christopher pointed to another truck four cars ahead. “That’s pieces of the Squirrel Cages. I love that ride!”

“You do? Is that the one that spins you around and flips you upside down?”

“Yeah, it’s awesome. When I rode it at a school carnival in San Diego a girl in the car in front of me puked all over everyone. Tons of kids got sick, but not me, even when a chunk—”

“Okay, Christopher,” Charlotte interrupted. “That’s quite enough, thank you.”

A wide grin filled Christopher’s face, and Charlotte turned her mind to happier thoughts. She imagined the rows of RVs parked in the camping area of the county fair, seeing old friends, catching up with people who had moved away from Bedford but who still made it back every August to enjoy good wholesome fun.

The warm summer sun shone through the car windows, and Charlotte realized that, to her, “fair days” were as familiar as swimming in the creek, eating watermelon on the front porch, and going for long walks in the twilight down country roads.

“Oh, look, there’s Hannah.” Charlotte spotted her friend walking into Fabrics and Fun and waved. “I wonder if she’s—”

“Grandma, stop!” Christopher’s shout split the air, and Charlotte glanced toward the roadside just in time to see a lamb, of all things, darting right in front of her. She slammed on the brakes and the car stopped inches away from the lamb. She felt herself flying forward against her seatbelt. Next to her, Christopher’s body jerked forward and his hand hit the dashboard.

The lamb stopped in fear, and then darted back the way it had come, scurrying down the sidewalk and weaving through the people who watched in surprise.

The sound of Charlotte’s pies tumbling across the backseat made her cringe. She had been in a hurry and hadn’t bothered getting out the pie holder that Pete had made for her. Now she hated to turn around and look.

Charlotte glanced around her, trying to figure out where the lamb had come from, and noticed a boy on the sidewalk. He gazed at Charlotte with wide eyes. In his hand was a long stick he most likely used to guide his lamb.

Charlotte sighed. She knew that during the month before the fair 4-H members practiced leading their lambs and setting them up for competition, but whatever had possessed him to practice on the main street in town with so many cars around?

She placed a hand over her pounding heart, and had barely caught her breath when Christopher opened the door and jumped from the car.

“Grandma, that’s David’s lamb. I better help him catch it.”

Christopher slammed the door and was already hurrying toward the sidewalk before she had a chance to warn him not to run out into the road. She didn’t want another close call on these busy streets.

Charlotte inched her car to the side and then double-parked next to an older sedan so she could get a quick view of the damage.

Please let the mess not be as bad as it sounded. She turned and peered into the backseat.

It was worse.

One apple pie was facedown on her back floorboard. The other pies had stayed in the cardboard boxes she’d used to carry them, but they’d flipped onto their sides and gotten smashed as the boxes had flown forward.

Charlotte let out a deep sigh and looked up just in time to see that an older man had snagged the lamb and was helping Christopher get a rope around its neck. Once the lamb was on its leash, the other boy, David, walked shyly with Christopher back to her car. The lamb trailed behind, confused by what had happened.

“Sorry, Mrs. Stevenson,” David said, stepping toward the car. Charlotte noticed he held the rope with an iron grip. “I was walking Bluebell, practicing for the lamb showmanship competition, and she ran away.”

Charlotte cocked an eyebrow. “Okay, but you better get that lamb home before something else like this happens.” She patted David’s shoulder. “You’re just lucky little Bluebell wasn’t smashed by the Squirrel Cages.”

Charlotte paused, amused by her own words. Now that wasn’t something she said every day.

“Grandma!” Charlotte turned as Emily’s voice split the air. She looked in the direction of Mel’s Place and spotted Emily heading her way. Her granddaughter had spent the night with Ashley so the two girls could help out at Mel’s Place during the busy pre-fair days.

“Ashley and I were outside washing the windows and we saw everything that happened. Are you okay?”

Charlotte gave Emily a quick hug. “Yeah, I’m fine, but I can’t say the same thing about the pies I was taking to Rosemary’s.”

Emily glanced in the backseat. “Oh, what a mess.” Then she flipped her hair over her shoulder, and Charlotte knew her thoughts weren’t on the pies at all. “Can I go with you?”

“With me?”

“To Aunt Rosemary’s house.”

Charlotte motioned for another car to pass by. “Well, now I don’t really need to go there.”

“Because Rosemary saw me helping at Mel’s Place this morning and she said to come with you. She says she has something for me.” Emily clapped her hands together.

“Well, I guess I can still swing by, but we can’t stay long. Looks like I need to head home and do some more baking.”

Emily ran back to Mel’s Place to grab her bag and returned to the car. She moved the front seat forward so she could climb into the back. She found a place on the seat that wasn’t a mess; then she helped readjust the boxes.

She stuck her finger into one of the pies and scooped out a large strawberry.

“At least it still tastes good,” she mumbled as she plopped the syrupy strawberry into her mouth. “How much you want to bet the guys won’t even care that they’re smooshed?”

So much for keeping the pies safe, Charlotte thought, and for keeping Bob away from sugar. So much for trying to keep ahead of the game this week.