“I got the whole thing on video,” she continues, waving her phone. “The way they all reached out to catch you? Pure poetry. I’m posting it to the community page right now.”
“Please don’t.”
“Oh, honey, it’s too late for that. This is the most exciting thing to happen at the fair since 2018 when the Ferris wheel broke down and we had to call the fire department to get Doc off the highest chair. I remember how afraid of heights that poor man was. He had to take some time off after that unfortunate...”
Rita, tired of Mrs. Delaney’s story, chooses that moment to let out a loud bleat, and the woman jumps like she’s been shot.
“That goat is still chewing that boy’s belt!” she exclaims. “Should I call animal control?”
“She’s fine. Just... difficult.”
“Difficult,” Mrs. Delaney repeats, typing furiously on her phone. “That’s a good word. Very quotable.”
I start walking faster, hoping to escape before she can say anything else, but Mrs. Delaney follows me, herthumbs moving across her phone screen at lightning speed.
“Tell me, Callie, how long have you had feelings for the McCoy boys?”
I stop dead in my tracks. “Excuse me?”
“The chemistry was obvious, sweetie. You can’t fake that kind of tension.”
“The only tension here is me trying not to strangle my goat.”
And Mrs. Delaney, truth be told.
I keep that part to myself.
“Mmm-hmm.” She doesn’t sound convinced. “And which boy do you like best? The serious one? The charming one? Or the funny one?”
“I don’t like any of them, Mrs. Delaney. They’re McCoys. I’m a Thompson. Oil and water. Natural enemies. The Montagues and Capulets. Ring any bells?”
“Oh, pish. Don’t drop that silly Romeo and Juliet stuff on me,” she says, waving a dismissive hand. “That old feud is just for show. Everyone knows it doesn’t mean anything anymore.”
“Tell that to my dad.”
As if summoned by name, Dad appears at my elbow, his face still red from his chili confrontation. “Callie, what are you doing talking to those McCoy boys—” He spots Mrs. Delaney, clears his throat, and smiles politely. “Afternoon, Dolores.”
“Hank!” Mrs. Delaney beams at him. “I was just telling Callie how sweet it was, watching her fall into the McCoy boys’ arms. Like something out of a romance novel!”
Dad’s smile disappears. “Shewhat?”
“Crashed,” I say quickly. “I crashed into them while chasing Rita. It was an accident. A very ungraceful, very embarrassing accident.”
“An accident,” Dad repeats slowly, his eyes narrowing. “With the McCoy boys.”
“All three of them,” Mrs. Delaney adds unhelpfully. “She took them all down at once. Very exciting.”
I close my eyes and count to five. When I open them, Dad is staring at me with an expression I can’t quite read.
“We’re leaving,” he announces. “Now.”
“Good idea,” I agree, starting toward the parking area. But Mrs. Delaney isn’t done with us yet.
“Hank, you should know, people are talking. About Callie and those boys. Some folks think it’s about time the families made peace. Let the younger generation be the change,” she says with a proud nod.
Dad’s jaw twitches. “Some folks need to mind their own business.”
“Oh, but, Hank, young love is everyone’s business! It’s romantic! It’s?—”
