So it went.
But Oliver Darling would not be ignored.
On a hot Wednesday afternoon in September, nearly a year since he’d last spoken to Oliver, Aberlour was counting the hours until he could close up the booth. He watched Bart fan himself desultorily as he entertained customers at his booth.
“Better luck next time,” Aberlour told the young man who’d just failed to win his date a teddy bear. He looked dejected. He should. He’d only managed to pop one balloon. The brunette on his arm laughed and told him it was alright. They kissed, and Aberlour had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at the display.
They walked away holding hands.
Aberlour shook his head and went about replacing the single popped balloon. He didn’t always reset the board, but leaving an empty space for that one balloon made his game appeartoohard. He was nearly done when he heard someone behind him clear their throat.
“Gavin Aberlour?”
Abe spun around, searching for the owner of the unfamiliar voice.
The man standing there frowning at Aberlour was about 5’3”, with a thick mustache, sweating profusely in the hot sun.
“Are you Gavin Aberlour?” he asked, reaching back to pull something from his back pocket. For a single moment, Abe though he might be armed. He didn’t flinch away. If he was about to get gunned down in the middle of a fair, then so be it.
“I am,” he answered with a firm nod.
The man extended a pink envelope towards Abe.
Aberlour stared at it in surprise but didn’t take it.
The man leaned closer and thrust it at Abe.
Aberlour finally relented and plucked the envelope from his sweaty hand.
It had an almost glossy feel. Pale pink, with a gold seal. He stared at it like it might bite him.
“Sign here?” The guy showed him where to sign on his tablet.
Aberlour took the stylus and signed his name.
The man took the tablet and stylus back and then promptly disappeared into the late afternoon crowd.
Aberlour stared down at the envelope. He itched to open it, curiosity eating away at him. But there was a part of him that suspected he wasn’t going to like the contents of the envelope.
He set it aside to deal with after work. Surely, it was best to handle the damned thing with a drink in his hand.
He’d barely made it to five o’clock when Bart came over and knocked his cane against the side of Aberlour’s booth. Looking smug, he grinned in Aberlour’s general direction.
“Did you get served with a subpoena?” Bart asked him, looking genuinely amused.
“No,” Aberlour replied, as he worked on closing down for the day. The pink envelope was still setting on the ledge where he’d left it earlier.
“Ohhhh, a lover then—” Bart said, even more amused.
Aberlour rolled his eyes and shook his head, even though his reaction was wasted on Bart.
“An invitation, I think,” Aberlour muttered as an idea about exactly what was in that envelope came to mind. One that tightened his gut uncomfortably.
Bart’s smile quickly faded, like he suddenly regretted asking about it in the first place.
“Why don’t you open it then.” Not really a question as much as it was an invitation, as if Bart just wanted tohelpin some way. The thought was absurd, but for some reason—
Leaning against the ledge, Aberlour reached for the letter and ran his finger over the top of the seal.
