Clobbered by Camembert

exercise into my daily routine?

“Look at the crowd.” Amy gaped. “Yipes.”

People meandered between the tents like a river. Whenever someone stopped to peer inside a tent, the people-river dynamic shifted.

I grumbled, unable to scoot up the right side of the crowd with the twins in tow.

“Relax, cherie,” Pepere said. “Remember you have others who work with you. They will see to the opening.”

“Follow me. I will make a path.” Grandmere, who had added a star-studded patriotic sweater to her eclectic Do-Gooder ensemble, broke free of my grandfather and forged ahead. “Move everyone. The mayor is coming through. Move, please. Merci.” Give the woman a flag, and she could lead a parade—any parade.

Once we pushed ahead of the throng, Amy broke free of my hold and started to twirl. “I love the faire.” She spread her arms wide. The ends of her striped scarf eddied out of control.

“Whoa, twinkle toes.” I reined her in so she wouldn’t accost some unsuspecting soul.

“Aren’t the smells yummy?” she said. “Cloves and sugar and pine.”

“Where’s Le Petit Fromagerie?” Clair asked.

“Not far from your recital stage,” I said.

“Hello-o-o!” Meredith, wearing a canary yellow parka over a heather sweater and chic gray slacks, swooped between the girls. They latched onto her with glee.

“Glad you found us,” I said. She had offered to be the twins’ guardian for the evening. Their mother was seeing to business at her Under Wraps tent, and my grandparents had a brief faire-planning meeting to attend.

“Your parka is pretty,” Amy said.

“Thank you.” Meredith fingered the stand-up collar. “I thought the color would make it easy for you girls to spot me, should we get separated.” She assessed me. “Charlotte, you look stressed. What’s wrong?”

“I’m running behind.” I didn’t have time to tell her about Chip’s surprise visit.

Clair did a hop-skip. “Look, there’s a sign pointing to Le Petit Fromagerie. See it, Amy?”

Grandmere had come up with the brilliant idea of adding arrow directionals at the faire. They looked like old European signs, each stacked atop the other. The Igloo Ice Cream Parlor, ten paces. Sew Inspired Quilts, twenty paces. Nothing was farther than a hundred paces, though there were rows and rows of tents, and if someone wasn’t careful, he or she could get lost. I had gotten turned around a couple of times earlier in the week when bringing items to the tent.

“Oh, look! There’s Thomas and Tisha!” Amy released Meredith’s hand and tore ahead.

Clair scurried after her.

The two quickly blended into a group of adults and children who were admiring the nearly finished knight on a horse ice sculpture. If only I had thought to dress them in yellow jackets as well, I mused.

Apart from the crowd, I caught sight of the sculpture’s artist, Tyanne’s burly husband, Theo. He was standing beside a sizzling-hot young woman who was toying with the tails of her ruby red scarf. Was she the lover Theo was leaving Tyanne for? With no regard for privacy, Theo pulled the Lolita-esque woman to him and kissed her intimately.

“Remember when we were that age?” Meredith slipped her arm through mine. “We had so many secrets.”

“I never had a lover.”

“What are you talking about?”

I glanced at her and saw she wasn’t looking anywhere near Theo and his girlfriend. With dreamy eyes, Meredith was watching the twins, who stood among the crowd, whispering to each other.

I smiled. “Yes, we had secrets. And we were always getting into trouble. At your insistence.”

She poked me. “You mean your insistence, don’t you? ‘Let’s climb this tree, explore that barn, sneak into Mrs. Jones’s garden and steal some carrots.’”

I pulled on my earlobe. “Funny, I remember it the other way around.”

“Do you?” Meredith winked at me. “Hmm, I do love carrots.”

“You mean you enjoy bossing me around.”

“That, too. Catch you later.” She bussed my cheek and hurried to join the girls.

As I headed to work, I couldn’t help thinking about secrets and lovers, and wondering about Kaitlyn Clydesdale again. Would her paramour come forward now that Kaitlyn was dead, or was he content to remain anonymous? Was he remaining anonymous for a reason? Was the man married? What if Kaitlyn had wanted to proclaim her love to the world, but her lover had lashed out to keep her silent?

* * *

When I reached Le Petit Fromagerie, the crowd was curving out the door. Tyanne had beaten me to the opening, thanks to Chip’s untimely visit. She manned the cheese counter, her cheeks flushed the same pink as her sweater, her blonde hair scooped into a sparkly pink clip. Using a cheese slicer, she slivered off tastings of cheese to one customer at a time. Wine and cheese tasting selection lists and a dozen gold pencils perched on the counter alongside the stack of souvenir plates, which had already dwindled by half.

“Sorry I’m late,” I said as I joined her. “What a slew of people.”

“You’re telling me. Over thirty in our first fifteen minutes, sugar.”

“A good showing.”

“Matthew went outside to manage the line. Did you see him?”

I hadn’t.

“I’m sure he’ll be back in a flash.” Tyanne greeted our next customer by name and handed him a slice. “You’re going to adore this Zamorano. Don’t you just love the texture?”

As the man mumbled his agreement, a woman bellowed, “Out of my way.” Sylvie, wearing a zebra print fleece cocoon that looked like an ugly sleeping bag, hopped into the store, banging into customers with abandon as she headed to the front of the line. “Ciao, Charlotte.”

I struggled not to laugh. How did she expect to get around without feet? “What are you wearing?”

“A Snugglee-Bugg.” She jumped in a circle. “Isn’t it darling? Perfect for cool weather.”

“To be worn inside on a couch.”

“Tosh! I couldn’t very well invite everyone to my home to see it modeled, could I?” She plucked a souvenir plate from the pile and waved it. “Thought I’d slip in and grab mine before they’re all gone. Stop by my tent. You might win a garter.”

Just what I needed.

As she bounded toward the exit, I said, “Sylvie, wait.” I cut around the cheese counter and nudged her to a corner of the tent. “You’re always good for gossip.”

“I am, indeed.” She grinned like the Cheshire cat.

How it pained me to flatter her, but I continued. “Do you know who Kaitlyn Clydesdale was having an affair with?”

Her mouth dropped open. Her fleece paw flew to her chest. Had I stumped her?

“Georgia Plachette said Kaitlyn was in a relationship,” I explained.

“Ooh, that vixen is a blabbermouth!”

Black kettles calling each other names did a kick line in my mind. I said, “Georgia didn’t know the lover’s identity. Just that it was so.”

“I’ll do some digging and come up with answers.” Sylvie leaped once, then swiveled back. “By the way, Charlotte, that V-neck thing you’re wearing is not flattering.”

That thing was an ecru cashmere sweater that had cost me a pretty penny and looked perfect beneath my red blazer.

“You don’t have the bosoms for it,” she added. “In the future, try a Peter Pan collar. Ta-ta!”

As she bounced toward the exit, bumping into people on her way, I prayed she would do a face-plant. She didn’t. Life wasn’t always fair.

When I returned to my position behind the cheese counter, Tyanne sidled up to me. “Sugar, I forgot to tell you, the tasting at the shop was a hit. All because of me, don’t you think?” She blew on her fingernails and polished