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“Because Ginger’s still mad at me, you won’t let Twyla come to town?” Mitsy continued snootily. “Is that what this is all about?”
“Why is Ginger mad at you?” Norma Rose asked.
“I don’t know,” Misty sniffed. “She acts like I stole her boyfriend or something. Like she’s ever had one. Everyone knows the Nightingale girls don’t date, ever since—”
“What are you and Twyla up to this time?” Norma Rose interrupted.
Ty wanted to hear the answer, but more than that he wanted to know what Misty had been about to refer to. That had put a pinch in Norma Rose’s lips.
“Nothing,” Mitsy said, obviously lying.
Looking for Ginger here was a waste of time, and this young girl—several years younger than Twyla—was trouble with a capital T. Ty took Norma Rose’s arm. “Let’s go.”
Norma Rose agreed with a nod, after shooting Mitsy one final glower.
Ty guided her around the booth, in the direction that several of the young men had gone. “Wait right here for a minute,” he said, handing her the cotton candy. This had nothing to do with Ginger, but his curiosity was too great.
She took the candy in her free hand. “Why?”
“I’ll tell you in a minute.” Ty hurried to catch up with two of the men. A moment later he had the information he needed and as he walked back to Norma Rose, he contained a chuckle. She had her hands full with her sisters, that was for sure.
“What are you shaking your head about?” she asked.
He took her elbow and gestured toward the parking lot with his chin.
“What did they say?”
“Aren’t you going to eat that?” he asked, instead of answering, pointing at the cotton candy. There were too many people still watching, and he wasn’t sure what her reaction might be. “Or don’t you like it?”
She tore her eyes away from the men he’d spoken to and sighed. “I like cotton candy, but...” She held up both hands, showing they were both occupied.
He took the snow globe. She just sighed again.
“What?”
“I can’t eat cotton candy with gloves on. They’ll get all sticky.”
“Take them off.”
“I can’t. My hands are blue, remember?”
He laughed. “That’s right. The ink pen.”
“The ink pen,” she repeated.
He tore a chunk of sugar fluff off the paper tube and plopped it in her mouth before she could protest. Before he thought about the repercussions.
Her eyes were round as coins, and rather bedazzled-looking.
To cover up the way his fingers tingled from having touched her lips, he plucked up another chunk of fluff and popped it into his mouth. “It’s good,” he said. “Fresh.”
She nodded. “Cotton candy doesn’t last long. It gets watery and tough.”
“Yes, it does,” he agreed. “Want some more?”
“No, thank you.”
He wondered if him feeding her that candy had affected her as much as it had him. He’d felt something deep down, where things normally didn’t go, places he kept locked up for good reasons...and always would.
They walked in silence past the various booths, with people still watching their every step. He’d worked hard last week to gain the information he had about the resort, Roger and all four of his daughters, and the curious stares confirmed exactly what he’d assumed. Lips were tight, very tight, when it came to the resort and the Nightingale family.
As they once again maneuvered around the mud puddle in the center of the trail near the entrance, she asked, “What did those men tell you?”
She’d learn about it sooner or later, so he said, “It seems your sister Twyla and Mitsy have a little side business going on.”
“A side business? What are you talking about?”
“They run a booth here on Saturday afternoons.”
“Twyla sells cotton candy with Mitsy?”
“No,” he answered.
“Then what?”
They’d arrived at his truck and he opened her door. Once she was seated, he handed her the snow globe. She was still waiting for him to answer, but he just shut the door and walked around to the driver’s side. There was hope on her face, hope that cotton candy was all those two girls were selling.
After he’d climbed in and started the engine, she asked, “What are they up to now?”
“Now? Have they done things in the past?”
“Too many things to even talk about,” she said. “I’m sure you noticed their red hair.” When he nodded, she added, “That was last month.”
“How old is Twyla?”
“Twenty-three,” Norma Rose answered with a heavy sigh. “But she says as long as father treats her like a child, she’s going to act like one.”
“She has a point,” Ty said.
Norma Rose’s gaze turned thoughtful for a moment. Then, leaning her head against the back window, she tilted it his way. “What are they doing now?”
Withholding the desire to take her hand, just to give her a touch of comfort, he started the truck. “They’re running a kissing booth.”
“A what?”
“A kissing booth. You know—”
“I know,” she snapped.
“Only charging a dime.”
He could have sworn she cursed beneath her breath, while he was ready to laugh out loud. For as hard as Roger Nightingale tried, he was creating delinquents rather than daughters. Other than Norma Rose, of course. The man should recognize that she was so responsible because he allowed her to be, and that her sisters weren’t because he didn’t give them any responsibility.
It really was none of his business. Not the way Nightingale raised his daughters, or how unfair he felt it was for Norma Rose to be responsible for those girls. Having backed out of the parking spot, Ty shifted gears and headed toward the main road.
Norma Rose leaned her head against the window again. “Good heavens.”
Taking one hand off the wheel, he took the cotton candy from her hand. “Take your gloves off. I’ve already seen your blue hands, and you’re going to need this sugar to keep up with your sisters.”
“What do you mean by that?”
He laughed. “I wasn’t implying you aren’t sweet enough. Sugar gives you energy.”
She set the snow globe between them and pulled off both gloves before taking the cotton candy. After eating a few mouthfuls, she reached over and fed him one. “You’re going to need the energy, too. We still haven’t found Ginger.”
By the time they’d arrived at the resort there was nothing left of the cotton candy. He’d eaten several more mouthfuls, pulling them off himself, half-afraid she’d feed him more if he didn’t. There was something too intimate about the gesture. He didn’t do intimacy. Didn’t have time for anything that might put warmth in his heart. It had been cold too long, and needed to stay that way.
He wouldn’t know who he was without the bitter chill inside him.
“Do me a favor,” Norma Rose said as he pulled into the parking lot.
Having laid the empty paper cone on the floorboard, she was pulling on her gloves, covering up her blue hands. Once again, Ty fought a smile. “What’s that?”
“Don’t tell my father about the kissing booth. He has enough on his mind.”
Shutting off the engine, he asked, “You do that a lot?”
“What?”
“Cover up for your sisters? For your father?”
A hint of sadness clouded the bright blue of her eyes. “Yes,” she said. “That’s what I’m here for.”
Ty no longer wanted to smile, nor could he deny the pang he felt in the center of his chest.
* * *
Norma Rose turned her gaze to the resort building sitting before the truck as her answer repeated itself in her head. That’s what she was here for. To cover everything up, the things she couldn’t make go away. It had never seemed that way, yet today, right now, she knew that was her real purpose. The heaviness that admission created was almost painful.
She pushed out a sigh, but it didn’t help. She grabbed the door handle. “Let’s go and see if they discovered anything in our absence.”
Ty was at her door before she opened it, and held it wide as she picked up the snow globe with one hand and reached down for the now empty cotton candy tube with the other. It had been years since she’d eaten cotton candy, and she’d forgotten how it melted as soon as it touched her tongue.
“Leave that,” he said. “I’ll throw it away later.”
Considering people were already going to question her whereabouts, she left the paper on the floor and then returned the snow globe to the seat before climbing out.
“Not this,” Ty said, retrieving the globe.
“That’s yours,” she said.
“I won it for you,” he said.
The feeling inside her was impossible to explain, or to identify. Not willing to focus on what it was, she took the globe and thanked Ty. Inside, she stopped in her office to put the snow globe on her desk. “I need to go wash my hands.”
“I’ll talk with your father,” Ty said. “Tell him what we discovered. Or do you want me to wait for you?”
If Ginger had been found, when they’d pulled up Bronco would have said something rather than just waving from his post. She shook her head. “Go ahead.”
