"I've heard she gives Joe a lot of trouble. Do you know anything about that?"

"Tom was telling me a little. Hazel's a big proponent of organic food, whole grains, macrobiotic diets. She wants the food bank to refuse donations that don't fit a narrow profile she's drawn up. Apparently she says that beggars can't be choosers, and the people who need help should learn to eat whatever they're lucky enough to be given." Ed's tone grew steadily icier as he spoke.

"Ouch."

"She's probably not quite that vindictive, but that's what you get when you take away the smiles and the flowery language."

"I've never seen her smile, and she wouldn't know a rose from skunk cabbage."

"Joe's been able to thwart her because n.o.body else on the board agrees with her. But she has a lot of clout in the community, and they don't want to cross her if they don't have to. So it's been a difficult dance."

"Could that explain why he vanished? Joe just got fed up?" I thought about it. "Forget that. He wouldn't leave Tyler just because he couldn't stand Hazel."

We were in sight of the fortune-telling tent now. I hoped my mother was settling in. I hoped I could drag my daughter out.

Ed stepped out of the way of a trio of giggling middle schoolers. I recognized them as some of the Green Meanies, a group of girls of which Deena is a part. But Deena wasn't among them.

"Tom also said Hazel put her foot down about a number of things at Mayday! this year," he said. "She claims the costs were too high even though they make a lot of money to offset it. So she cut out one of the popcorn machines and a couple of the food vendors-"

"Oh, if only they'd served buckwheat groats and mashed turnips."

"She also cut out a couple of games on the midway and a trio of professional mimes who were always crowd-pleasers. Claimed they could get local mimes from the high school to do it for free, but Tom says not to expect much. The new guys kept talking to each other during rehearsal."

"I feel a headache coming on. Tell me you aren't joining the board."

"I'm not joining the board. I'm going to be polite and interested and say no if they ask me again."

We had drawn within ten yards of the tent when I realized that we were about to run smack-dab into the topic of our conversation. Hazel Kefauver and her mayor husband were standing just outside the tent flap. And wonders of wonders, they were talking to my mother.

"That headache?" I said. "What's bigger than a migraine?"

"A stroke."

"If I have one, can I just sink to the ground right here?"

He took my arm. "She's your mother."

I didn't point out that had this been Ed's mother, Nan, she and Hazel would have faced off by now, one-upping each other with the names of important people they counted among their acquaintances.

When we reluctantly approached the circle Junie was regaling the Kefauvers with plans for the tent. "I've got my tarot cards, candles, incense, and an Indian print tablecloth."

"I'm sure that's all well and good," Hazel said, "but the important thing is to move people through quickly. Joe refused, and we could have made a lot more money if he'd just told his customers they were going on a trip or having a surprise visitor and turned them right back out again."

Hazel was large enough to block the entrance to the tent if she so desired. She was muscular, with a snapping turtle jaw that looked lethal to me. Her hair was a drab brown cut short to expose a head shaped like a football helmet. She wore a gray suit that would have been more attractive on her husband, sensible lace-up shoes, and a glare.

"I'll certainly remember that," said Junie, no stranger to the troublesome. She had sweet-talked her way through craft and Renaissance fairs for decades. She has a wonderful way of drawing the positive from everyone she meets. I was just afraid that this time, she'd met her match.

"We're glad you stepped in," Brownie said. Today his bow tie was a natty yellow stripe. Personally, I think he's trying to draw attention from his receding hairline and protruding ears. Or maybe Hazel sits on his chest and forcibly knots them around his throat.

"Yes, we're glad you stepped in," Hazel repeated. "But it's beyond the pale that Joseph Wagner didn't come himself."

"I can see you're stressed about that," Junie said soothingly.

"Anybody would be. The nerve of that man."

Ed stepped up, and the Kefauvers saw and grudgingly made room for us. They aren't members of our church. Hazel has voiced her dislike of a religion that doesn't tell people exactly what they should do. We pray for her minister.

"Mayday! looks impressive again," Ed said. "The food bank is such a valuable contribution to the community."

"Yes, well it's more valuable since I took over. You have no idea how much money the previous board spent. Shameless!"

I detected less vehemence in her tone than the words suggested. She seemed to be struggling to crank up her rhetoric, but not quite succeeding. Now that I was standing beside her, I noted that she looked pale and tired. Normally her skin is an angry flush, as if her blood pressure is about to establish record highs. Today she merely looked gray. I wondered if she had succ.u.mbed to the unusual spring flu that was making its rounds through the schools. It wouldn't stop her, though. Hazel would run the world from her deathbed.

"I've seen a lot of areas of the country that have nothing similar," Ed continued, undeterred. "Helping Hands is something we can be proud of." He turned his gaze to Brownie. "In fact, I hope the city council will reconsider its cuts in the budget and fully fund their portion. It would be a great example for the other counties. We should be the leaders since the food bank is right here."

"There's too much waste already," Hazel said, before Brownie could answer. He looked grateful. I suspected this was the way their relationship always worked.

"Better a little waste than people who need food going without it," Ed said.

"We have people taking food who don't need it. I'm convinced of it, and I'm going to stop it. The regulations need to be stricter. I can tell you there are some other big developments in the wind for Helping Hands. I'm going to make sure that nothing is hidden anymore."

"Why don't you let me see your palm," Junie said, "and I'll tell you if you're about to get your heart's desire. We can't always be certain, can we, that we're on the right path?"

Before Hazel could refuse, Junie lifted her hand and turned it to see Hazel's palm.

I glanced at Ed. For the first time since we'd approached the Kefauvers he was smiling. I wondered what he hoped Junie would tell Hazel.

Hazel looked as if she wanted to s.n.a.t.c.h her hand back. But Junie, soft and cuddly though she is, has traveled the country back and forth subduing recalcitrant RVs, putting up and taking down vendor's booths, and raising three sc.r.a.ppy daughters. Hazel might best her if they arm wrestled, but not by much.

"First your heart line..." Junie looked up and smiled. "You're a s.e.xy woman, Hazel. You sly thing."

Brownie looked astonished, and Hazel was outraged. "I really don't believe in this nonsense!"

"And you have a strong will, but you have a softer side. You take on these projects, like the food bank, because deep inside you want so badly to help the less fortunate."

"Hmph!" Hazel sputtered, and she tried to jerk her hand away, but Junie wasn't quite finished.

"And you have a marvelous life line," Junie said. "I think you'll live to be ninety. Maybe older. That's a lot of time left to do good works." She let Hazel take back her hand. Then Junie smiled. "Was that quick enough for you, dear?"

I always love my mother. Right now I loved her a little more than usual. I tried not to smile.

Hazel turned to go, but Junie touched her hand. "Just one more thing? Your hand is like ice, and your skin is much too dry. I'd recommend a sweater and having your circulation checked. We don't want you catching your death of cold. There's still a nip in the air."

"There's nothing wrong with my circulation," Hazel said haughtily.

"Then maybe there's something wrong with your heart. I'd consider the possibility."

They were gone before Ed spoke. "You know, if you weren't my mother-in-law, Junie, I think I'd adopt you."

Together we leaned over and kissed her cheeks.

5.

Since I was certain Teddy would be bored silly by a VIP tour, I promised she could stay with Junie if she promised not to raise the table. In the hour before we met the other VIPs, Ed, Teddy, and I knocked down bowling pins with baseb.a.l.l.s and reeled in plastic fish, cheerfully accepting our candy bar prizes. Holding hands we watched Teddy make three circuits on a pony named Snapper.

While Teddy and I waited at the end of the line for circuit number four, Ed wandered off to try his swing in the batting cage. It was Teddy's last ride since the tour was due to start in fifteen minutes.

She nodded toward the cotton candy vendor. "Miss Hollins is over there."

Jennifer Hollins is Teddy's first grade teacher, and our relationship has been less than stellar. My attempts to be a supportive, thoughtful parent have been met with skepticism. Recently I've kept the lowest possible profile, but now, as she headed our way, I was trapped.

"Good afternoon, Teddy." She leaned over to look Teddy right in the eye. In her loose, flowered dress, Mary Janes, and brown hair fastened on both sides with barrettes, Miss Hollins didn't look much older than my daughter.

"I'm riding ponies."

"I don't blame you. I'd ride them, too, if they'd let me."

Teddy giggled. She liked her teacher, and I thought the feeling was mutual.

Miss Hollins straightened and smiled at me. With a year of teaching under her belt, I think she was finally starting to feel a bit more comfortable with parents, too. "Are you enjoying Mayday!?"

She would be surprised at my real answer. I hedged. "It's a lovely day for it, isn't it? We couldn't have ordered better."

"I'm glad I ran into you two. I have some good news."

I was in the mood for good news. I smiled expectantly.

"Teddy's going to be the star in our end-of-the-year play. She's been chosen to play Cinderella. What do you think, Teddy?"

Teddy is a hard child to impress, but at this news, she positively glowed. "I get to wear the gla.s.s slipper?"

"You certainly do. But you have to promise not to break break it."

Teddy giggled.

I'm not a hard parent to impress. I was glowing, too. Who doesn't want to see her child so delighted? Teddy gets lots of praise for her quick little mind, but how many times in her life will she be the star of a fairy tale?

Miss Hollins read my expression accurately. "Just so you know, it's not your mother's Cinderella. The fairy G.o.dmother only gives suggestions, and at the end, Cinderella has to rescue Prince Charming from a dragon before they can marry, then she teaches him how to clean the castle."

"You're kidding."

Miss Hollins smiled, too. "Uh-huh. Although we have changed some of the dialogue to make it a little less oppressive."

I laughed. Maybe Jennifer Hollins and I were over the hump. She'd developed a sense of humor, and I'd developed the ability to keep my lips sealed. She said good-bye to Teddy and wandered off. Teddy was next in line, but she was so happy, I was afraid she might float right off Snapper.

After she finished her ride and gave Snapper an apple slice, I took her by the hand and started toward Junie's tent.

"No lifting the table," I warned again.

"What if Junie asks me to? Who should I listen to? She's older than you are."

"I'm directly in charge of your future."

"But if it weren't for Junie, you wouldn't even be here."

This was not an argument. It was a philosophical discussion. I'm surrounded by them and somewhat immune. I explained that Junie would expect her to do what I asked her to, that after all, Junie herself had taught me the value of following a mother's advice, and thus if she followed my advice, she was also following Junie's. That was complex enough to give her food for thought and me an interval of silence.

We were almost at the tent when I saw Deena. I was surprised to find that she wasn't with any of her girlfriends. I was particularly surprised to find that the boy she was with was Tyler Wagner, a cleaner, neater version of the one I'd seen earlier that day.

"I didn't know Deena and Tyler were friends," I said.

"Deena said that if I saw her with Tyler, I should pretend I didn't."

"Hmmm..." So Deena hadn't been as unhappy to have her parents drive her to Mayday! as she had been to have us here at all.

I remembered suddenly that I was twelve the first time I fell in love. My heart did a double flip-flop. I wasn't ready for this. She was just barely twelve. A baby. Our entire future flashed in front of me. A decade when she rolled her eyes every time I tried to give her advice about men. Another when she came home regularly to tell me her heart had been broken. Then another decade when she rolled her eyes every time I tried to give her advice about her children.

I wanted to grab my daughter by her strawberry blonde braid and yank her back to yesterday.

"I'm going to pretend I don't see her, too," I said, although I wanted to follow them around the grounds quizzing Tyler about his intentions.

"Is pretending like lying? How do you tell the difference?"

That discussion took us to Junie's tent. There was already a short line outside, and I heard discontented mumbling that Joe wasn't telling fortunes. Considering everything, it seemed like a bad sign people were disgruntled before they went inside. Imagine how they would feel when Junie finished with them?

I dropped Teddy off with my mother and hoped for the best.

When I got to the warehouse Ed was with the rest of the guests waiting by the door. To my surprise I found Detective Kirkor Roussos chatting with him.

"Solved any more murders lately?" he asked when I extended my hand.

Roussos and I have an odd relationship. Since arriving in Emerald Springs not quite two years ago, I've been involved in two murder cases. Both times I've figured out whodunit just in time to get myself in serious trouble. Nevertheless, I did figure out who the bad guys were, and I think Roussos more or less respects me for that.

Roussos is whipcord lean and gorgeously Greek. I'd have to be dead not to be impressed. He's also smart, cynical, and occasionally witty. He's one of those guys who makes me glad I'm happily married. Because if I weren't, I could be in trouble.

"Not lately," I said, when he shook my hand, noting the faded jeans and nubby silk sports jacket that were more or less his uniform. "But if you need my help, you know where to find me."

"How could I forget? I've worn a path to your door."

"Trust me, it will grow over if you just stop suspecting my family of murder."