The Barefoot Summer Read online

  Maybe that was her sign. She could travel around to the festivals taking pictures like they did on cruise ships and selling them to the people. The possibilities were endless. Lovers, married folks, old people, little kids—she turned her camera up and shot another picture of Gracie and Lisa with their heads together as they watched the band. Then she took one of Paul and Jamie standing about a foot apart as they minded the children.

  There was a float from the church with the preacher and his wife riding on the back and throwing candy out to the crowd. One from the elementary school with all the teachers on it. Next year Jamie would ride on that one, and Waylon was right—Kate would need to be there to watch Gracie.

  No, you won’t. Her Mama Rita will always be here to do that job, her conscience said above the loud band music.

  Kate didn’t even argue. She’d be there anyway to take pictures of Gracie through the years, recording her growth by the festival pictures.

  People dressed in all kinds of fishing costumes dashed between the next several floats, making the onlookers laugh with their antics as they gave out rubber worms and inexpensive lures to the crowd on the sidelines.

  The whole thing had a Mardi Gras feel to it. She’d been to New Orleans once on a business trip and watched a parade from her hotel balcony, but it hadn’t been as much fun as this one.

  Finally, the stagecoach appeared at the end with Victor driving and Hattie waving a lace hankie from inside with several other folks. Gracie and Lisa hopped up and down and blew kisses at her. When she yelled their names, they hugged each other and beamed.

  And then it was over. People picked up their chairs and headed toward the school, where two blocks had been roped off for vendors and the carnival had been set up in the parking lot. Kate tagged along behind the rest of her group for a few minutes, but then she saw a vendor selling cute hair bows and stopped to buy a couple with tiny pictures of Cinderella on the ribbons.

  A booth offering an array of brightly colored scarves and shawls caught her eye, too. The one that stood out was a splash of bright colors swirled around on a background of blue. It reminded her of a sunset over the lake, but she had absolutely nothing that it would match.

  Amanda has a cute little maternity dress that it would go with, though.

  She was about to buy it when someone touched her hand.

  “What do you think of our festival?” Victor asked at her elbow. “Seen Hattie around? I had to get the horses unhitched and I lost her.”

  Kate hung the scarf back on the display. “I love it! The parade was amazing, and I loved seeing you up there driving that stagecoach. Are you going to be our driver on Monday?”

  “Oh, no, honey! Waylon gets to drive that day and Paul will ride shotgun. I’ll be in the stagecoach to protect all the girls.” He winked.

  “How many of these festivals have you attended?” Kate asked.

  “I haven’t missed a festival since I was born back in Prohibition. Did anyone ever tell you how Bootleg got its name?”

  Kate glanced over his shoulder, scanning the crowd for Waylon. “No, sir, they didn’t.”

  “Well, let’s me and you go that way.” He pointed toward the left. “I saw the funnel cake vendor over there. We can have a midmorning snack and talk,” he said. “Hattie will find me a lot quicker if I’m sittin’ down. She and I have got to ride the Ferris wheel together. It’s been our tradition since we was six years old. I was scared to death to ride it, but I wanted to so bad she rode with me. Helped me out—I couldn’t be afraid in front of a girl.”

  Kate followed him to the funnel cake wagon, where he marched right up to the window, laid his money on the shelf, and said, “Give me the biggest that you got. Me and that good-lookin’ blonde are goin’ to share it.”

  The smell of the hot grease and sweet frying bread brought back a memory that she hadn’t thought of in years. Her father had taken her to a medieval fair somewhere close to Dallas, and they’d eaten funnel cakes. It had been a fun day, and she’d fallen asleep on the way home that evening. When she awoke the next morning, her fingers were still sticky. She’d licked the sweet sugar from them and hoped that they could go to the fair again that day. Her mother and father had both gone to work before she went down to the kitchen for breakfast and the nanny fussed about her sleeping in dirty clothing. The memory put a smile on her face and filled her with happiness.

  Victor carried the paper plate carefully to the table where Kate had sat down. He placed the plate in the middle of the small table and pulled out a chair across from her.

  “You can have the first bite,” he said.

  Kate quickly pinched off a bite, popped it into her mouth, and then pulled a couple of napkins from the metal holder in the middle of the table. “You were going to tell me about Bootleg?”

  “The lake came about in 1924, back before I was even born. Until then it was just a part of the Wichita River. Down in this area, it was far enough from prying eyes that folks who had a notion to make moonshine could use the banks of the river to do so. Didn’t want to put a still too close to the house. If you got caught, you could lose your property.” Victor told the story between bites.

  When they finished the last strip of cake, he pulled a roll of bills from his shirt pocket and peeled off a five. “Go get us another one, but don’t tell Hattie. She’s going to want to share one with me later, and I sure don’t want her to know that I’ve already had two.”

  Kate didn’t have to stand in line, so she was only gone a few minutes. “Tell me more about Bootleg and how it got its name.”

  Victor pulled off a chunk of cake. “My grandpa was one of those bootleggers. Times got tough those days, and he found a spot on the river and started up a business. It’s what saved our home place here in Bootleg.”

  Hattie sat down beside Kate, picked off a piece of the cake, and took up the story. “History has it when the community sprang up near the lake, they tried to name it Lincoln, after the past president, and then Lakeside, but nothing stuck. Everyone had called the place Bootleg for so long they all finally gave up on naming it anything else.

  “Hey.” Hattie looked across the table at Victor. “You old fart. I bet you wasn’t going to own up to eating one of these before you shared one with me, was you?”

  Victor held up his hands and grinned. “Busted!”

  “Don’t tell me you rode the Ferris wheel without me, too.” Hattie’s hands went to her hips and her mouth set in a firm line.

  “Don’t get your underpants all twisted up. I wouldn’t do that. We got to ride it together or you get scared,” he teased.

  “Not me. I love the Ferris wheel.”

  Waylon sat down in the fourth chair and reached for a bite of the cake. “Good mornin’, all y’all. I hear the picnic for Monday has been approved. What do I need to do or cook, Hattie?”

  “You have the stagecoach ready, and me and Victor will bring the rest of it,” Hattie answered. “Right now, we’re going to go ride that Ferris wheel, aren’t we, Victor?”

  “Yes, ma’am, we are.” He grinned. “And I won’t eat another bite of this cake, so I’ll have plenty of room to share one with you when we get done.”

  Kate loved these two old folks and would gladly adopt them. She’d send presents on their birthdays, for Christmas, and even Grandparents Day if they’d let her call them her own.

  She waited until they were out of hearing distance before she said, “We should turn the tables on those two and get them together in their golden years.”

  “They are together,” Waylon said.

  “I mean in one house and married.”

  “Whole town has been trying to do that since before my mother died. They are happy, but they will never get married. They’re too set in their ways. Are you going to ride the Ferris wheel with me?”

  “What does riding the Ferris wheel mean? That we are friends for life?” She was flirting and knew it, but right then she felt as free and as excited about the day as Gracie.


  He picked up the last of the funnel cake, tore it in two pieces, and fed half to her. His fingertips grazing her lips ignited sparks that flitted around the air like fireflies. Turnabout was fair play. She quickly picked up what was left and fed it to him, deliberately brushing the back of her hand across his freshly shaven cheek.

  His sudden intake of breath and the way his eyes went all dreamy gave testimony that she’d had the same effect on him that he’d had on her.

  “So?” she asked.

  “So what? More funnel cake?”

  “No. If I ride the Ferris wheel with you, does that make us friends for life like Hattie and Victor?” She hoped he said no—suddenly she wanted to be more than friends. It wasn’t possible, but then, it wasn’t a sin to want something even if there wasn’t a chance in hell of ever getting it.

  “Of course. And before I forget, here’s my part of that flower and balloon order.” He slipped a bill into her shirt pocket. The touch of his fingertips brushing across her breast sent another shock wave through her body.

  She quickly jerked the money out and handed it back to him. “I didn’t sign either of our names, and it’s already taken care of.”

  “But they know I was in on it.” He dropped the money into her purse. “Gracie hugged me and thanked me a dozen times for her balloons. And I pay my bills, so don’t argue with me about this, Kate.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do, Detective Kramer.” She dragged out his name.

  Damn! Damn! Damn! Now he’d gone and spoiled the whole feeling.

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not Conrad. I’m not going to take your money or stomp on your heart. Don’t compare me to him.”

  She gritted her teeth until her jaws ached. “Don’t accuse me of things I didn’t do. And don’t bring up his name to me. And another thing—if you put cuffs on me and drag me to jail for something I didn’t do, that classifies as stomping on my heart. And the final thing—I’m not going to ride the Ferris wheel with you. What if a columnist or reporter or even blogger is roaming around among all these people and they see us snuggled up together on a Ferris wheel?”

  He stood to his feet. “You are right about the ride, but when you come back to Bootleg next year to enjoy the festival with Gracie, this will all be done. Save me a spot next to you.”

  “Who says I’ll come back?”

  She picked up her purse and was about to leave when Gracie yelled from across the street, “There’s the funnel cake wagon and there’s Kate. Hey, Kate, wait for us!”

  “You could ride with Gracie and I could ride with Lisa and we’d be together, but not side by side,” Waylon drawled.

  “And I bet if we were really good at matchmaking we could get Jamie and Paul to ride together,” Kate said.

  “Hattie would be so proud of you in this moment.” Waylon chuckled and then grew serious. “Trust me, Kate. I’m doing everything I can possibly do to clear your name.”

  “Let’s go ride the Ferris wheel, Kate.” Gracie grabbed her hand and tugged. “Mama says each kid has to have an adult.”

  “Well, in that case, you think I could ride with Lisa?” Waylon asked.

  “And I could ride with Gracie.” Kate shot a dirty look over her shoulder at Waylon. Damn, that man could be so frustrating!

  “I’m not getting on that thing. Sure as I did, I’d go into premature labor,” Amanda said. “Besides, I see Aunt Ellie and Wanda over there. Hey!” she called out and waved. “I invited them, but I didn’t know if they’d get to come or not. This is great.”

  Paul looked over the kids’ heads at Jamie. “Guess that leaves the two of us to ride together.”

  “I guess it does.” Jamie smiled.

  “What about these three lovely ladies?” Waylon looked back at Aunt Ellie, Mama Rita, and Wanda.

  He was smooth, Kate would give him that.

  “Wanda and I are going to park right there at that table y’all vacated and eat funnel cakes,” Aunt Ellie said. “And you must be Jamie’s grandma Rita? Want to join us? I bet we can talk Amanda into pulling up a chair with us, since she’s not going on the ride.”

  “I outgrew rides years ago. Y’all kids go have a good time and don’t worry about us. We’ll catch up to you later on,” Rita answered.

  “Where’s Hattie and Victor?” Gracie tugged on Kate’s hand.

  “They are already in line,” Kate answered. “Are we ready to go?”

  Kate and Gracie had reached the front of the line when the old fellow running it opened the gates to fill up the wheel again. She grabbed the money that Waylon had given her and handed it to the man. “This is for the next four seats.”

  The man looked at the bill and grinned. “How many times you plannin’ on ridin’?”

  “Is there enough for two times?”

  “Honey, with fifty dollars, you could ride all day. I’ll make change.” He laughed as he handed her several fives and a few ones.

  “Have you ridden one of these before?” Waylon looked up over his shoulder as the music started and the wheel began to move.

  “Never,” she said.

  When they reached the top, the wheel stopped and the seat swung slightly. Gracie grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Don’t be afraid. I’m right here with you.”

  “I’m glad you are, Gracie. Oh, my goodness. Look out there across the town. You can see the edge of the lake.”

  Gracie let go of the bar and reached up with both hands. “I can almost touch the clouds.”

  Kate held her breath until Gracie’s hands were back on the bar.

  Just like your father. Her mother’s voice was back in her head. Fearful of everything, even a cruise ship.

  Don’t bring that up. Don’t ever put it in my head again.

  Thinking it, even in a mean tone, did not erase the words. That was the very thing that had caused the argument between her and her father the night he’d died. She’d given her parents a seven-day cruise to celebrate their thirty-fifth wedding anniversary, and he’d told her to get her money back, that there was no way he’d get on a ship like that.

  Just like Gracie did not cause her father’s death, you did not cause yours, the voice said. This time it was much gentler, and she smiled as the wheel made another turn and her bucket started back up.

  “Your arms are longer than mine,” Gracie yelled. “Hold them up and see if your hands disappear in the clouds.”

  Kate let go of her death grip on the bar and reached for the clouds. She didn’t touch them, but there was exhilaration in trying. When the ride stopped, she and Gracie were the last ones to join the group waiting on them.

  “Can we go have funnel cakes now?” Gracie asked Jamie.

  “Please, Daddy?” Lisa begged.

  “I’ve had those already, so I’m going to meander through the other vendors,” Kate said. “If I don’t see you before then, I’ll meet you at the dock for the fishing contest.”

  “I’m going to sit right here a little longer and do some people watching,” Amanda announced. “My feet are already starting to swell.”

  “See y’all later, then.” Kate took off in long-legged strides to see the rest of the vendors.

  Waylon fell in beside her. “Are we through arguing?”

  “You overpaid for your half of the flowers,” Kate said.

  Victor and Hattie appeared out of the crowd and joined them. Victor had powdered sugar in the corners of his mouth, and Hattie had a huge bear in her arms.

  “What flowers? Did you two send those bouquets and balloons? That is so sweet,” Hattie said.

  “That is classified information,” Waylon said.

  “Too much money appeared in my purse for his half of the classified stuff, so I’m buying us all one of those Indian taco things for lunch,” Kate said.

  “Hot damn! I love them things.” Victor patted her on the back. “But first Hattie wants to look through all the geegaws the vendors have on this side of the street.”

  “The taco wagon is at the end,
so we can eat there and then take in the ones on the other side,” Hattie said.

  “Sounds like a good plan to me,” Waylon said.

  They’d made it halfway down the lineup when Hattie threw a hand across her forehead. “I’m getting too hot and I need something to drink. Victor, cross the street to that Coke place and get me something cold. I don’t care what.”

  “I’ll go,” Kate said quickly. “Hattie, you sit right here on the curb in this little bit of shade. Victor, you better stay with her in case this is heatstroke coming on.”

  “I’ll go with Kate and help tote the drinks back,” Waylon said.

  How did anyone stay mad at him? Or better yet, how did anyone keep information from him when he smiled? No wonder he had such a good record for closing cases. He could talk a priest into revealing what was said in confessional.

  Kate positioned herself in the line so she could keep a watch on Hattie. She and Victor were talking. Maybe she was simply tired and thirsty. The sun was broiling hot, and Hattie had been on her feet for a while.

  Waylon touched her on the arm. “Are we okay?”

  “I hate fighting. It’s all I did with Conrad after that first year.”

  She hated saying his name. Would Conrad always stand between her and another relationship or even friendship?

  Only if you let him, the voice in her head said, and this time it was her father, not her mother.

  “It’s all I did with both of my wives. They hated my work schedule and my paycheck and the apartment we lived in,” Waylon said. “I vowed I’d never go through that again.”

  “So did I,” she said.

  “I didn’t grow up in a fighting family,” he said. “I had to learn the art of arguing when I got to college.”

  She nodded. “I know exactly where you are coming from.”

  Her first fight with her roommate had been over keeping the bathroom clean, and they hadn’t spoken to each other for a week afterward. She’d thought at the time that nothing could ever be that awkward and uncomfortable again—little did she know.

  “Hey, there’s the rest of your family over there with Hattie and Victor,” Waylon said.