Maris smirked a little. “Only by association. Aunt Glenda was the real fan.”
In the parlor at the B&B, an old Victrola was accompanied by Glenda’s vast collection of blues albums. Her aunt had played them for her while they’d amused themselves with board and card games or dabbled with the Ouija board.
“Your aunt was instrumental in getting the festival started,” Helen said.
Maris stared at her. “I didn’t know that.”
She turned back to the plaza, where a sound system was being installed in the red Oriental gazebo, and a second stage was being built at the far end. Large tents sheltered booths where food and drinks would be sold, as well as t-shirts, trinkets, and music. There were even tables where the musicians would sign autographs. It was a massive undertaking—one for which she had a new appreciation.
Helen nodded her gray head. “Yes, she was quite the driving force, your aunt.”
Maris had to smile at the thought. “She was that.” It was actually a trait they shared.
Helen glanced at the crochet club. “Millicent is on the festival committee, so naturally we’ve been privy to some of the goings on.” When she turned her gaze back to Maris, she arched her eyebrows. “Perhaps next year we can look to the younger generation for some organizational help. Maybe even, shall we say, carry on a family tradition.”
Maris knew she was being buttonholed, but the fact that Glenda had been involved with the start of the festival really did put it in a new light. Of course she had her hands full at the B&B during the festivities, but perhaps in the weeks leading up to it, she could find time to help.
“Who is the committee head?” Maris inquired.
Helen grinned at her. “A new one is elected every year. You just have to put your hat in the ring. This year it was Aurora Puddlefoot.” She nodded to herself. “Marvelous with management.”
Maris thought back to visiting the proprietor of the largest store on the plaza. Three stories tall, with everything from souvenirs to clothing and furniture, Magical Finds had at least a dozen employees.
“Yes,” Maris said, “I could see that.”
“Well,” the older woman said, “I won’t delay you any longer.” She turned to go, but paused. “Unless, of course, you were stopping in for some crocheting.”
“Unfortunately not,” Maris said. She indicated the market as she repositioned the purse on her shoulder. “I’ve got a bit of shopping to do.”
“Yes,” Helen said, nodding. “I’m sure we’re all quite busy right now.” A smile lit up her face. “Good day to you.”
“Have a good one,” Maris replied.
• • • • •
The market was busier than usual too. Shoppers, mostly tourists, were everywhere. As she took her cart up and down the aisles, Maris even noticed that Howard had hired on some new help. Young people were busily stocking shelves and answering questions from the customers. But luckily, by the time she was finished gathering everything that the B&B needed, the front counter was empty and the retired physics professor and owner of the market waved her over.
“Good morning, Maris,” he said, his smile lifting his white mustache and deepening the crow’s feet at the corners of his dark eyes. Though he still bore an uncanny resemblance to Einstein, his hair was neatly brushed today and his mustache combed and trimmed.
“Good morning, Howard,” she said, as she unloaded the boxed goods first. “I’ve never seen the store so busy.”
“I have,” he said, quickly ringing up the goods. He gave her a wink. “This time last year.”
Maris chuckled. “Well, I can see that you’re prepared.” One of the new employees rolled a bucket and mop past them. “The extra help is a great idea.”
As Howard bagged the groceries, he said, “It’s a necessity.” He indicated her basket as she unloaded the vegetables. “The B&B must be full.”
“Absolutely,” she said. “This week’s been booked for months. At first I had no idea what was going on.” She laughed a little. “I told Cookie it must be a new holiday that I don’t know about. She clued me in. In a way, a new holiday is exactly what it seems like.” Suddenly she remembered the one item she hadn’t found. “Oh, I almost forgot. I couldn’t find any scrub sponges. Are you out?”
He was putting a loaded bag into the cart, but paused to look at her. “No scrubbies?” He set the bag down, and held up one finger. “Let me just check in the back.” He zipped over to the door behind the counter, and disappeared.
As soon as it closed, Maris heard the usual sounds of rummaging that accompanied one of her requests. At first it sounded like boxes dragging along the ground. But then there was a bump, as though something had fallen against the door. Grunting then ensued, along with more scraping sounds and a few more bumps. But Maris didn’t worry. Not only was this the time-honored process, but Howard always came up with the goods, no matter how obscure. She bagged the rest of the groceries and put everything in the cart.
But when Howard finally emerged, Maris had to stare at him in surprise. Not only was his hair going in every direction, he was sweating and breathing hard. His shocked expression and empty hands said it all.
“It’s missing,” he gasped. “It’s gone.”
Maris cocked her head at him. “The scrub sponges?” To say she was shocked was an understatement. He’d never let her down. But he obviously had a lot to deal with and she didn’t want to add to the pressure. She held up a hand. “No problem. They’re not a–”
“No,” he whispered harshly, stumbling back to her, “not the scrubbies.” He put both hands on the counter and leaned forward. “My crystal ball.”
• • • • •
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