My Bluegrass Baby (14 page)

I couldn’t think about it. Either way, I was going to be a little happy and a little
upset. I had exactly twelve hours to make things work in my own tent before the grounds
closed for the night, so I planned to make the most of it.

•   •   •

By the time I got the tent somewhere near the level of organization I desired, it
was well past dark. I was dripping with sweat, and I had scraped several layers of
skin off my arms while opening the crates. But my tables were the perfect mix of precisely
fanned brochures and creative fluff—clear plastic jars filled with blue candy, piles
of buttons with my slogan pressed on a blue background. This was the stuff of marketing
legend.

I was going to have to refresh the tent at the end of each day, after the crowds (please,
Lord) destroyed it. But I was pleased with how it had turned out. I might actually
get some sleep that night, which would be a refreshing change. I came out to find
Josh crouched outside his tent in a pair of tattered cargo shorts, nursing a bottle
of water.

Sweaty and caked in a fine layer of dust, Josh looked exhausted. I plopped down on
the ground next to him, wiping at the sweat gathering on my own brow. Josh didn’t
acknowledge me, just sat staring off into space and glugging down his water. So I
leaned back on my palms and gazed up and down the deserted midway. Heavy canvas tents
fluttered against the soft summer breeze. The occasional food wrapper rolled across
the packed dirt like a plastic tumbleweed. A furry gray-and-white shape toddled out
from under a pile of trash and trotted past us, its leathery pink tail dragging behind
it in the dirt.

“Was that a possum?” he asked, without looking up.

“Yes, it was,” I said, nodding. “I’m guessing he wants to be first in the funnel cake
line.”

When the possum ambled around a corner toward the food vendors, Josh lifted a white
paper bag. “Kelsey brought us some sandwiches. She didn’t want to seem like she was
favoring you, so she delivered them here.”

“Thanks.” I chuckled, accepting a turkey club on whole wheat. I swatted away a fly
that was too chummy with my kettle chips. “How is your display looking, Bambi?”

He frowned as he rolled his shoulders, cracking his back into place. “Bambi?”

“I’m trying to decide what I’m going to call you when you’re wearing your cheerleader
outfit.”

It was clear from the expression on his face that he’d entirely forgotten our bet.
While that gave me some hope he hadn’t actually bought my UK cheerleading outfit,
there was no way he was going to get out of the specially designed U of L pleated
skirt I’d had made. (Kelsey’s nerd herd made their own cosplay costumes, so they were
pretty skilled with a needle.) “That’s not funny.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

He fiddled with the loose wrapper on his water bottle. “So, I behaved like a total
jackass after the encampment, huh?”

“Emotionally stunted, uncommunicative jackass just about covers it, yes,” I said,
nodding.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just—”

“I don’t really want to hear why,” I told him, pressing a hand to his chest to get
him to both stop and give me some physical space. “For right now, we both need to
stay focused on the contest and keeping our tents running. But I do want to say that
if you get the job, I will stay. I will work as your assistant, with no reservations.
I think we can make it work. As for everything else, the personal stuff, I don’t know.
But for right now, everything’s okay. I’m not going to say I’m thrilled with how things
are working out, but we’re going to get through the next week and we’re going to let
the chips fall where they may. No pressure. No anger.”

I’d expected him to be happy, or at least crack the barest hint of a grin. But instead,
for a split second, he looked upset. “Really?”

“Your enthusiasm is overwhelming,” I told him.

“It’s just that up until now, you were pretty unsure.”

I unwrapped my sandwich, avoiding his searching stare. “And now, I’m sure. I’ve changed
my mind. It happens sometimes.”

In a dance that was well practiced by now, we exchanged the unwanted sandwich ingredients—tomatoes
from mine and onions from his—and tucked into our food. We ate in silence, each afraid
of what the next day would bring, of the decisions we’d made and avoided. Josh reached
over and wrapped his hand around mine, squeezing it gently. I looked up at him and
smiled.

We were going to be okay, the two of us. I had to believe it. If we could get through
the next week or so without one of us flipping out, we might be able to achieve some
form of happily ever after.

That must have been the dehydration talking.

In Which Our State Fair Is a Great State Fair

10

An artist would have painted the state fairgrounds in bright acrylics—shiny primary
colors and sharp light. In the distance I could hear the rumbling of the engines running
the coasters. The sky was an impossible blue and the air smelled of sizzling oil and
burning sugar. It seemed odd that someone would want a funnel cake first thing in
the morning, but then again, it could be considered an extra-extra-large donut. I’m
not one to judge.

The chatter of hundreds of people moving through the entrance gates was deafening
but pleasant, punctuated by the occasional shriek of laughter. Most people dashed
toward their favorite ride or food vendor. The farmers attending the livestock and
agriculture exhibits were all business, walking with slightly pinched expressions,
as if being separated from their animals for the night was like leaving a small child
behind. Families took it slow, pushing their sport utility strollers at a measured,
even pace, knowing they were in for a long day and conserving their energy.

I hadn’t seen Josh or any of my coworkers yet. Josh and I were each sequestered behind
the canvas walls of our pavilions, the early morning sun giving the interior soft
golden glow. Our coworkers, being normal people, hadn’t felt the urge to get out of
bed before dawn and wait in the parking lot until the fair staff opened the gates.
I was so nervous that my stomach felt twisted inside out. I didn’t dare eat anything,
though the smell of deep-fried everything wafting into my tent was tempting.

If I knew Kelsey, she’d already had two deep-fried Oreos for breakfast. I didn’t have
time to envy her position. There was a healthy flow of foot traffic through my tent.
People seemed to enjoy the display and took plenty of freebies. Though I realized
that wasn’t much of an indicator of success. People would take used Kleenex if you
put it in a bowl next to a sign that said
FREE!

For the most part, people seemed happy with my presentation. They laughed at the TV
spot looping on the flat-screen TVs. And they kept coming back to the presentation
boards to get another look at Kelsey’s photos. My sweet-talking the
Weird Things You Didn’t Know About Kentucky
publisher into all those free copies was clearly genius, because I couldn’t hand
out those tote bags fast enough. People really seemed to get the message. I’d finally
put out a campaign on my own and people liked it. It was all I could do to keep from
doing a happy dance in the middle of my tent. Instead, I focused on making sure people
received their voting cards before leaving, and very helpfully pointed out where the
polling box was situated between the tents. Between keeping the tables fresh and answering
questions, I was kept inside for much of the day.

Kelsey, carb-delivering saint that she was, stopped by around lunchtime to bring me
a Krispy Kreme Cheeseburger, a delicious all-beef patty between two grilled Krispy
Kreme glazed donuts.

“What are you trying to do to me?” I laughed as she deposited the grease-stained brown
paper bag in my hands like a sacrificial offering. “I’m going to have to live on an
elliptical machine next week.”

“Hey, there’s lettuce, tomato,
and
a pickle,” Kelsey insisted. “It’s practically a salad.”

I groaned as I dropped into a folding chair, discreetly situated behind a display
board so no one would see me chowing down on this calorie-laden monstrosity. “Thanks,
Kels.”

“Hey, you’ve got to keep your strength up,” she said, munching on her own helping
of deep-fried dill pickles. “Have you had a look at Josh’s tent lately?”

I shook my head. “I haven’t had the nerve. Is it busy?”

Kelsey nodded and cringed at the same time, which took some facial contortion skill.
“Yes. His theme is ‘Come Home to Kentucky.’ It’s cozy, a little bland, but still pretty
upscale. Lots of pictures of bourbon tasting, trotting thoroughbreds, sailboats on
Kentucky Lake, and families enjoying nice dinners at big farmhouse tables. He’s putting
gift certificates for free Dippin’ Dots in every ergonomic, eco-friendly ‘Come Home
to Kentucky’ water bottle he gives away, so they’re moving pretty quickly.”

I blanched. Dippin’ Dots were the “ice cream of the future,” tiny beads of ice cream
flash-frozen in a plant in Paducah. They were completely unique and original to Kentucky,
not to mention cold and free, which would appeal to the fair crowd. “That brilliant
bastard!” I exclaimed, making a couple mothers on the other side of the display board
gasp in horror. Well, there went two votes. “I can’t believe he came up with that.
I can’t believe
I
didn’t think of that!”

“It’s pretty popular,” she said. “But nobody is chuckling as they’re walking out of
his tent, which is happening in droves here. And I see people all over the fairgrounds
leafing through those books you gave them. So at this point, I’d say you have a pretty
even split.”

“Ugh.” I bit into the burger, a surprisingly delightful mix of sweet, creamy pastry
and beefy, salty goodness. “I can’t believe we have to do this for a whole week. I
don’t know if my nerves can take this.”

“Well, speaking of nerves.” Kelsey’s lip curled distastefully. “I thought you should
know, I saw C.J. Rowley skulking around Josh’s tent.”

“Again, I say ‘Ugh,’ ” I growled. “He’s probably just sucking up to Josh so he can
make excuses for being such a jackass at the Derby party.”

“Actually, he didn’t seem to be talking to Josh, just loitering in his usual skeezy
fashion.”

My lips twitched. “Was he also cackling while twirling a long handlebar moustache?”

“Everything but,” she said primly. “I’m just saying, be on your guard. And remember,
large men are a lot less scary with your foot lodged in their crotch.”

“That’s your suggested solution to everything,” I said, sighing and sipping my lemon
shake-up.

“Because it always works.”

•   •   •

Crotch-related warnings aside, Rowley didn’t come near my tent. On the rare occasion
I managed to work up the nerve to look toward Josh’s tent, I saw neither hide nor
oily hair of Rowley. I did catch a glimpse of Josh, who looked as uncomfortable and
unsure as I felt. He gave me one long, lingering look before I gave him a weak little
wave. He inclined his head, more of a bow than a nod, and we retreated to neutral
corners. Or tents.

By the end of the day, I was no more sure of my position in the race than Josh seemed
to be. But there wasn’t anything more I could do except go home and try to get a good
night’s sleep—because I had to do this all over again the next day. I hoped maybe
I could catch Josh on his way home and we could grab dinner.

But when I walked out of my tent and bade good night to the security team, I saw the
grounds crew dismantling Josh’s tent. His tables were folded and stacked in the back
of a truck. His displays were packed up in crates. The brochures he’d worked so hard
on were trampled into the ground by passersby. Where the hell was Josh?

“What the . . . ?” I dashed into the collapsing tent space, much to the annoyance
of the grounds crew. Josh had disappeared. The fair staff couldn’t give me any answers
when I demanded to know what they were doing. My call to Josh’s cell phone went straight
to voice mail.

Passing droves of tired parents toting their unconscious offspring to the exit, I
made my way to the main headquarters tent for staff. There I found Ray schmoozing
Deanna Stanhope, who served on the state fair board. She was wearing another fantastic
millinery creation of silk flowers and wax fruit arranged over a straw bonnet. “Mrs.
Stanhope, I see we’ve paid another visit to New York,” I said sweetly, remembering
her story about a personal milliner in Manhattan.

“Oh, Ms. Hutchins.” Mrs. Stanhope giggled, patting her head to make sure the hat was
situated correctly. “How nice of you to notice. And I visited your display earlier;
what a funny idea. I was just telling Ray here that I can’t wait to see what you come
up with next year.”

“Thank you,” I said, wondering if I was supposed to curtsy in the presence of such
a hat. “Would you mind if I borrowed Ray for a moment?”

As Mrs. Stanhope dismissed us, a strange kaleidoscope of emotions crossed Ray’s face.
He was pleased. He was sorry. He was a little scared. I was reminded of that day at
the Derby hat auction when Ray told me about Josh’s hiring. This did not bode well.

Ray immediately tucked his arm through mine and pulled me outside the tent. “Sadie,
you’ll be happy to know that I’ve gotten nothing but positive feedback about your
campaign.”

“Great. Where is Josh?”

“Josh isn’t here,” he said carefully.

“So I gathered,” I retorted, clearing my throat to keep my voice from shaking. “And
if you do that thing where you try to delay bad news by giving me useless information,
you know I’ll just end up making a scene. So please cut to the chase.”

“He quit this afternoon, Sadie.” Ray sighed. “He came to the headquarters a couple
hours ago and turned in a handwritten resignation. On a Tasty Time napkin. And because
he’s only been with the commission a few months, he asked for a waiver of the usual
two weeks’ notice. He’s not coming back to the office.”

I felt all the blood drain from my cheeks. Josh was just walking away? He left again?
He quit without a word? Forget how much that hurt me on a personal level, that was
just freaking rude to the entire staff. He’d come in and stirred up tension and instigated
this bizarre beauty pageant over the job for nothing? He’d put me through the wringer
at the office for months for
nothing
?

Ray put an arm around me. “Hon, I know you’ve put up with a lot and frankly, we’ve
jerked you around pretty good here. I’m sorry about that, but you’ve got it. You’ve
got the job. And not just because Josh dropped out, but because you deserve it. This
campaign is fantastic. It’s different than anything we’ve ever done. I’m so happy
to know I’m leaving the office in good hands, Sadie.”

I nodded shakily. Winning didn’t feel as good as I thought it would. To be honest,
I could barely feel anything. Not the warm breeze on my neck or Ray’s gentle hands
on my arms. I had what I wanted, and it didn’t mean much in the face of this dizzying
numbness.

“Sadie, hon, the job’s yours,” Ray told me. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

I narrowed my eyes at Ray. “I’m going to kill him.”

•   •   •

It is really difficult to kill someone when you can’t
contact
that someone. Despite my numerous voice-mail messages, Josh didn’t respond to my
calls or e-mails. When we returned from Louisville, his office had been cleaned out.
And for the sake of not getting arrested on a charge of disturbing the peace, I elected
not to drive over to his apartment building to check if his lights were on. He didn’t
want to see me, that much was clear. And I was going to listen to what he was “telling”
me. It was just as well. I wasn’t ready to talk to him yet, either.

I was so angry with Josh. I was so angry with him, and at the same time, hurt and
sick and sad. I could barely register the idea that I’d achieved my dream job, because
I couldn’t seem to breathe.

I accepted my promotion with grace, minimizing the “In your FACE!” to Gina and former
Team Vaughn as much as possible. Okay, I only did it once, and that was after overhearing
Gina tell Theresa that the only reason I’d won was that Josh dropped out of the race.

I’d underestimated just how fabulous Ray’s office was. Having a window of my own was
fan-freaking-tastic. I didn’t want to be a vulture, but I will admit that the minute
the buttercream on Ray’s retirement-party cake was scraped into the trash can, I was
changing the height settings on his desk chair and making myself right at home. The
walls were now a light spring green and I had a potted mint plant on my desk, courtesy
of the ever-hopeful Mr. Leavitt. (He left care instructions with Kelsey, just to be
on the safe side.) And there was a framed print of the newly redesigned Sammy the
Squirrel on my wall. The good news was that the job wasn’t that different from working
as assistant director, except that I weighed many more decisions and didn’t have to
get a second opinion when I made them.

While I’d met with Commissioner Bidwell several times, it had never been under circumstances
where it would be appropriate to have the conversation I wanted. So I bided my time.
Fortunately, I had much to keep me busy. I moved into my new office, met with other
department heads, and implemented the secondary phases of my winning campaign, including
a Web site redesign, mailings, and a new forty-page magazine-style travel guide. The
interns left, meaning that much of the office grunt work—copying, stapling, and the
like—was left to us to do ourselves. (Kelsey grumbled endlessly about this.)

Though his absence left its mark, my coworkers took Josh’s departure in stride, assuming
that he simply didn’t want to return to the office after losing to me. Meetings were
calmer and quieter. Out-of-office trips were a little less of an adventure. There
was an overabundance of jelly donuts, because Melody had gotten used to buying extra
for Josh. Kelsey was disappointed she wouldn’t see Josh dressed up in his little cheerleading
outfit, but she was happy he had taken most of the tension out of the office with
him. She sensed there was something off with me, but she didn’t comment on it. She
was restraining herself from her usual “I told you so” spectacular and I appreciated
it.

Every once in a while, someone would mention Josh’s name in passing and then shoot
me this guilty look that some give recent widows. I wasn’t sure if it was because
they thought I had survivor’s guilt over getting the job or because they knew I had
more-than-professional feelings for my vanquished opponent.

I missed him. It was hard to admit that someone I’d known for such a short amount
of time was affecting my daily routine so dramatically. Particularly when I’d spent
the better part of the summer mocking him. But I missed Josh like a phantom limb I
kept trying to lean on, only to find myself off-balance and depressed when I realized
it wasn’t there.