“Hey, Phoebe.”
“Hi, Finn!”She looks at Emma and holds out her hand.“I’m Phoebe.You must be Emma.Summer told me all about you.”
“Nice to meet you, Phoebe,”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been around to say hi.I have a gift basket for you, but I’ve been on double shifts at the hospital lately and haven’t been able to drop it off.”
“Oh.”Emma looks at me, surprised.“That’s very sweet.You didn’t have to do that.”
“I’m the gift basket queen in these parts, and I have a reputation to uphold.”
I pull several hundred dollars from my pocket and hand them to Phoebe.
“That’s two thousand tickets, Finn,” she says.“You sure?”
“You know the drill, Phoebe.You know what happens every year.”
“Right.Are all your brothers coming tonight?Here’s one thousand.”She hands me half the tickets.
“Thanks.Cal’s on his honeymoon, but the others will probably show.Anyway, it’s for a good cause, right?What’s getting funded this year?”
“Paving the drive-in,” Phoebe tells me with a shrug.
“There’s a drive-in in Sweetbriar?”
“No, but there will be.Jim Larson bought a vintage drive-in projector at an estate sale in Aspen, and now he’s itching to turn his unused cow pasture into one.Here’s the other thousand.”
“Any of your brothers make it home this year?”
“Nah.Everybody’s busy.”She smiles softly, then looks over my shoulder.“Is Evander coming?”
“Who knows.If he’s not in Vegas getting a mani-pedi.”
Phoebe snickers.“Have fun, you two!Nice to meet you, Emma!”
“You too!”
I spot Jasmine by the funnel cake stand, clutching a deep-fried Snickers in each hand.Uh-oh.I’m pretty sure there’s a cap on how much sugar an eight-year-old girl is supposed to eat in one day.Even at a fair.
On our way there, Emma eyes one of the giant stuffed pandas at the ring toss.
“You want me to win you one?”
“One of those?”she asks, startled.“No.I mean, yes.I mean, you don’t have to do that.I mean, these games are a scam.”
“They are?You say that with an air of authority.”
Her face reddens slightly, and her hair falls forward, covering half of her face.I long to tuck the hair behind her ear like I’ve seen her do so many times since she arrived at Yosemite Ranch, but she beats me to it.
“I worked a carnival for a summer when I was eleven.Everything was rigged.Magnets, fans, you name it, to bilk the customers.We didn’t give away one single panda all summer.Just those little rubber toys.”
A look of sadness washes over her face and something else.I think it’s shame.
“You worked at a carnival when you were only eleven?You were allowed to do that?”
“I didn’t have, you know, parents.”Her voice is soft, and I understand immediately that this is part of the topic she doesn’t want to discuss.
Her background check revealed her work history, schooling, legal background, and previous addresses, but it didn’t go back to when she was eleven years old and a foster child.None of those details are available publicly.What I know is what Phyllis has told me.
