“Money back?” I gave her my best confused and befuddled expression. “For what?”
“For that fiasco you call a chili cook-off!”
I glanced at Patti in exaggerated confusion. “Didn’t she win a prize?”
Goth Girl gave Dani O’Neal a dead-eyed stare that would’ve frightened a water buffalo. “Is that the one that tasted like ant p—”
“Your piddly prizes don’t make up for the torment and emotional stress placed upon my children.” Her other two children, young boys in shorts and scuffed cowboy boots, had donned UT cowboy hats from the table and were gleefully throwing an A&M football back and forth from one end of the display table to the other.
“Clearly ravaged by the experience.” Patti caught the football midair and tossed it to Mr. Hailey.
“You can shut up, whoever you are.”
I stepped between Dani and Patti, intent on preventing my best friend from socking the other woman in the kisser.
“Your faulty electricity killed Lucky. I’m going to bring you up on charges.”
“Who died and made you sheriff?” Patti quipped.
Dani feigned left and then lunged to my right, but I raised my arms to keep her out of Patti’s reach and a broken nose. “You ever heard of citizen’s arrest?”
I glared at Goth Girl, and we locked eyes. Finally she took Lenny from my arms and stalked away. “Come on, Lenster. If I stand here any longer, I’m going to need a shovel to breathe.”
“Yip.” Lenny made sure to lick Patti’s hand when she scratched him under the chin.
“Uh, hem.” Mr. Hailey handed each O’Neal child a swirly bright-colored lollipop. “It’s a beautiful day to enjoy all the sights and tastes of Main Street. Wouldn’t want you to miss the free samples at Elaine’s Pies.”
“I don’t like pie,” the little girl wailed.
He chuckled as if she’d paid him a compliment. “A little birdie told me they might be giving away samples of their homemade ice cream.”
“Let’s go!” the boys shouted in unison.
“Don’t think you’re getting away with murder. I’ll post so many negative reviews online you’ll have to move to Minnesota.” Dani O’Neal grabbed her little girl’s hand and hurried after the boys.
If this O’Neal woman did indeed spread atrocious rumors about Milagro all over social media, how could we ever live down such a catastrophic fiasco?
“Some folks suck all the fun out of life.” Mr. Hailey sighed.
“I don’t get it. She wasn’t upset yesterday.” I watched the O’Neal family plow through the tourists on their way to more free sweets.
“She didn’t win the prize money, did she?” Mr. Hailey asked.
“Definitely not.”
“There you go.” He picked up the cowboy hats from where the boys had thrown them to the sidewalk. “She’s about the fifth contestant who stopped by today, spouting bile and hard feelings.”
“Nuts!”
“Every last one of ’em.”
I laughed. “Didn’t I see you accepting an award for your salsa?” I was secretly pleased the honor had gone to a local, someone with a vested interest in our success.
“Top prize.” With a grin, he patted the pocket on the bib of his overalls.
I laughed. “You having a good day?” I asked.
“Beautiful,” Mr. Hailey said. With his round belly and lengthy gray beard, the emporium owner could have passed for Kris Kringle’s redneck cousin.
“Do you have a flea circus?” I asked with a smile.
“What, you don’t get enough fleas from that shrimp of a dog?”
“Yes, but they refuse to perform in a right-to-work state.”
He laughed, causing both his belly and his beard to jiggle. “For you, Miss Callahan, the world.” Mr. Hailey lifted a crate from beneath the table and withdrew a purple matchbox with a miniature circus painted on the side. “What happened to the first one I gave you?”
“Oh, Aunt Linda keeps it in my old room on the nightstand.” As an adolescent of twelve, full of grief over the sudden death of my parents, overwhelmed by moving in with Aunt Linda and Uncle Eddie, the flea circus had distracted me from my heartache.
I shrugged.
“Don’t tell me, the performers moved on?” He cocked his head to the side.
“Exactly.” His kindness on that wretched day so long ago still shone brightly in my memory. “I’ll take it and three packs of these playing cards with Looney Tunes characters on the back.”
A round, plastic-encased item caught my eye. The packaging showed a drawing of lightning bolts zapping a human hand.
“Can’t these hurt people?” I studied the warning on the side. Not recommended for children under three years of age.
He chuckled. “Not at this voltage.” From the crate, he removed a similar device, placed it in his palm, and stuck out his hand.
I jumped as tiny volts raced through my arm. That cheap piece of plastic had my attention. “I’m sold. I’ll take three.” Who knew who would end up with them, but my heart filled with pride. I was giving my Christmas list a mighty wallop.
Chapter 13
Josie Meets Ryan for a Dance
After Patti and I returned from our tour of the best artisans Main Street could offer, I stepped cautiously into Milagro’s dining room, expecting to find Anthony drowning in crowded tables and impatient customers. But for some reason the majority of our guests had apparently come and gone by two o’clock. Even though the sign outside said we closed at two o’clock, a large party of old friends still lingered to reminisce about their days at West Texas—their boisterous conversation filling our casita with warmth and goodwill.
Lily left their table carrying a round tray loaded with margarita glasses and red tumblers, empty chip baskets and half-eaten orders of queso. “I have everything under control, Miss Josie,” she said as she drew near. And she did. The tough, defiant teen she’d been was no longer in sight.
I gave her a grateful nod and ran upstairs to unbraid my hair and reposition the flower behind my ear. It was Cinco de Mayo, after all. I was nervous,
