The Silver Falls Summer Festival is in full swing by the time we get there, and just like every year, just getting out of the truck to see it all makes me smile. Silver Falls might not be a fancy little town, but we know how to have a good time.
There are lights strung between booths, and music fills the air along with the smells of kettle corn, barbecue, and fried food. It looks like the whole town is already here, putting aside their work and chores and whatever else to have a good time this evening.
Cora clings to Harper, but she looks around curiously, her little nose twitching as she picks up on the scents wafting around.
“If your aunt says it’s all right, I’ll get you a funnel cake,” I tell her. “Have you had one before?”
She shakes her head, and I grin at her. “Well, let me tell you, little star, you are in for a treat.”
The little girl practically starts vibrating with excitement, and Harper holds on to her hand firmly before squatting down to her eye level. “Remember what we talked about?” she asks, holding up her free hand. Cora mimics her with her hand and together they tick off a list of rules. “No running off on your own. Ifyou want to see something, get my attention, and I’ll take you over there. We can’t go home with a farm animal. If you get overwhelmed, just let me know. Don’t fill up on junk food.”
I laugh a little at that last one. “Filling up on junk food is half the fun of the festival, Harper. It won’t kill her.”
She gives me a look, but there’s a smile tucked into the corners of her mouth. “Says you.”
“Says me,” I agree. “And as you know, I’m an expert when it comes to festivals, so you should listen to me.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.” She doesn’t sound impressed, but she does follow me as I lead the two of them around. When I ask where they want to start, neither of them seems to know, and I have to wonder if they’ve ever been to anything like this before. Cora definitely hasn’t, but it’s sad if Harper has never gone to a festival or a carnival and had a good time.
Even if she has, it’s clear that it’s been a while since she’s had fun. She always has that pinch to her brows, that frown lurking in her smile, and for one evening at least, I want her to be able to have a good time.
So I decide that’s my mission. I’m going to make her laugh, make her forget a little about whatever it is that’s haunting her. Indulging Cora will help, but Harper tends to forget about herself in all this too.
We come to the first booth in a long row, and I stop, doing a dramatic hand gesture as I motion to a large jar, stuffed to the brim with peppers in a mess of colors. “Our first stop on the Silver Falls Summer Festival Tour is the McKinley Pepper Jar. Every year Mrs. McKinley,” I nod to the woman manning the booth, “stuffs this jar with peppers for the good people to take a guess at how many are in here.”
Harper eyes the jar curiously. “What do you get if you win?” she asks.
“A selection of our finest hot sauces, pickled peppers, and pepper jellies,” Mrs. McKinley says. She gestures to the rows of little cups for samples. “If you want to see if it’s worth it.”
Harper hums and selects a little cup with pepper jelly in it. She licks it off the back of the sample spoon and her eyebrows climb up her forehead. “That’s good. Okay, I’m game.” She squints at the jar a bit and then takes the slip of paper Mrs. McKinley offers. Glancing at me, she covers the paper with one hand when she writes down her answer and then passes it back.
I scribble down my own guess and hand it over too.
“Good luck to you both,” Mrs. McKinley says.
“She does that every year?” Harper asks as we walk away from the booth.
I nod. “Every year. The peppers don’t go to waste, and it’s a fun little thing. Good for business.”
We keep walking and come across a game down the line where the goal is to bounce a ball and get it into the mouth of a jar. The jars are spaced farther and farther apart, with points for each distance.
I waggle my eyebrows at Harper. “Think you’ve got what it takes?”
“Is that a challenge?” she fires back.
My blood beats approvingly at that, and I hand over two tickets to the man running the booth. “Let’s see what you’ve got,” I tell her.
“Oh no, experts first,” she says. “I insist.”
I laugh and take the first turn, grabbing the little ball and narrowing my eyes as I line up a shot. The first one goes neatly into the jar for ten points, and the second slides into the twenty-five point one after hitting the rim. The last ball misses, but thirty-five points is more than respectable.
I give Harper a little bow as I step back.
She steps up and takes her turn, sinking a ball into the twenty-five point jar immediately. My eyebrows climb up at the shot, but then she misses the next two, making me the winner.
She doesn’t seem upset though. Her eyes are bright, and she smirks at me as she steps back. “I’m just getting warmed up,” she says. “I’ll win the next one.”
“I like that attitude,” I tell her, and we carry on.