Daisy gave the woman her name and took the badge with her name on it, putting it around her neck.
“You’ve got your phone?”
At her nod, the woman smiled. “We’ll text you to let you know which booth needs you first.”
“Thanks.” She leaned forward. “Before we go, could you please check to see if there’s any record of a Callan? Callan Graham. He might have worked here last year or scheduled to work this year?”
The volunteer’s brow furrowed as she turned to the computer, fingers dancing over the keys. Callan stood beside Daisy, his posture tense.
After a few moments of searching, the volunteer looked up, apologetic. “I’m sorry, but there’s no record of a Callan Graham in our system. Sometimes details fall through the cracks, especially with temporary staff or last-minute additions.”
Daisy’s shoulders slumped slightly, a shadow of disappointment crossing her face. She glanced at Callan, trying to mask her concern. “Oh, okay. Thanks for checking.”
Callan placed a hand on her shoulder. “Dinna fash, my memory will return.”
“Come now, let us enjoy the Faire,” Callan said as he gestured towards the crowds. “There’s much to see, and I wish to see it all.”
Daisy nodded, forcing a smile. It was almost as if he wasn’t surprised that he wasn’t listed in the database. Could Zara be right? Was he somehow taking advantage of her? But she pushed the worrisome thoughts away, certain everything would work out the way it was supposed to. The baseball player, Ed, had told her she was like the grasshopper, not the ant, flitting from thing to thing, never worrying about the future. At the time she’d thought it was a complement, that she was easygoing and free-spirited, but later she realized that he’d meant it as an insult, basically calling her empty-headed and irresponsible.
“You’re right. Come on, I know you’ll want to eat first. Do you remember the enormous turkey legs?”
When he shook his head, she took hold of his hand and led him over to the food court.
After they’d stuffed themselves, they made their way to a makeshift arena where a sword-fighting demonstration was about to begin. The clang of steel echoed through the air as two fighters in elaborate medieval garb bowed to each other and began their choreographed battle.
It was just as fun to watch Callan’s reactions as it was for Daisy to watch the demonstration.
He watched intently, his eyes following every move. “See how the one on the right holds his blade too high?” he murmured to Daisy, pointing discreetly. “Makes him slow to parry a low strike.”
Daisy nodded, half-understanding, half-amused. Maybe his name had gotten lost. The guy certainly knew enough about swords.
As the fighters continued, his observations grew more detailed, discussing foot placement, balance, and the flow of motion, making her mouth drop open.
A big red-headed man who looked like he was in charge stood next to them. When the demonstration ended, he turned to Callan.
“Couldn’t help overhearing,” he said. “You seem to know a great deal about swordplay.” He nodded to Callan, “I’m Evan. I’m in charge of these demonstrations.”
“Callan Graham.” He looked the man over, then nodded respectfully. “Aye, I’ve a wee bit of practice with a blade.”
The man’s grin widened. “Our highlander came down with food poisoning. How would you like to fill in for him? You’d have two demonstrations per day and we’ll cover your meals along with paying you a hundred bucks for each weekend.”
Daisy’s eyes lit up. “Callan, you should totally do it! It sounds like fun, and you’d be amazing.”
She smiled. “Anyway, I’ll be helping the vendors, floating to cover their breaks, so it will give you something to do.” She leaned down and patted Frankie’s head. The dog was busy sniffing the air.
Callan nodded to the man, then frowned. “I … weel, I lost my sword and both my daggers.” His shoulders slumped.
Evan pointed. “See that booth over there? Tell them I sent you. They’ll loan you blades.”
Before Callan protested, he added. “Some of these finance type guys who couldn’t wield a blade if their lives depended on it pay a lot of money for the swords used in the demonstrations. I’ll be able to sell whatever blade touches your hand, of that I have no doubt.”
“Then we have a bargain.” Callan nodded.
Evan added. “If you want to make a couple of hundred more, there’s also a spot open for helping with security around the Faire. Nothing too strenuous, but it helps to have someone who knows how to handle themselves, just in case.”
“Aye, I could use the funds,” Callan said.
“Excellent!” The man clapped him on the shoulder, leading him towards the booth filled with various pieces of armor and weaponry. “Let’s get you outfitted, then. Welcome aboard!”
