“She raises a lot of money each year for the local families.”
“Really?”
“Uncle Dev said the men are too scared not to go to her booth as she may turn them into frogs.”
“How is she supposed to do that?” Rory asked.
“She knows everything, and Uncle Dev said he wouldn’t be surprised if she wasn’t a witch.”
Rory shot a look left and right to see if anyone had heard the little girl. No one appeared to be listening.
“I’m not sure it’s right to call someone a witch… ah, in that context at least, Isabella.”
“The last witch was burned in 1684, Uncle Rory.”
“Oh… well then.”
“God’s blood, Jimmy Tait, if you kiss your girl like that it’s hardly surprising she’s a sour countenance on her from sunup to sundown!”
All eyes turned to Mrs. Radcliff. She was speaking to the man before her.
“It’s a peck on the cheek, boy, you’ve no need to open your mouth so wide. It’s like kissing a codfish.”
Jimmy Tait was now as red as a beet, and everyone nearby was laughing.
“Line up.”
“Pardon?” He looked down at Isabella.
“We must line up to give Kate her fudge. You can kiss her.”
“Well, you can certainly line up. I’ll wait.”
“Don’t you want to kiss her?”
More than you can imagine.
“There are surely enough men here already waiting to kiss her. She doesn’t need more.”
Isabella ignored him and tugged them into the line, then proceeded to explain in detail about how annoying her siblings and younger cousins were.
“Meredith breaks my things.”
“Then put them somewhere she can’t reach.” Rory watched as Kate leaned forward so the next man could kiss her. He put both hands on her cheeks. Surely that was far too intimate for a peck on the cheek? She should not be allowing that. Where was her brother? Rory looked for Wolf.
“She climbs up to get them.” Isabella was swinging his hand now.
“Get someone to make you a large box and put a lock on it.” Rory still had his eyes on Kate. The man was saying something to her now, and Kate was shaking her head.
“’Lo!”
Isabella sighed as he looked down into the face of a little girl who would break a thousand hearts with her smile.
“Meredith, I presume?”
She nodded, then held out her arms.
“He’s injured, Meredith, he can’t lift you,” Isabella said in a superior tone.
