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We stop in front of a food truck that’s advertising cowboy caviar and Hank orders a combo that comes with cowboy caviar, chips, and a soda. “This is basically the only vegetarian option at Hoedown every year.” He pops a chip in his mouth. “But it’s delicious.”
Blair glances around at the food options, her eyes widening on something across the street. “Funnel cakes!”
Otto arches an eyebrow. “That’s not dinner, that’s dessert.”
“You only live once, Grandpa Otto,” she says, then takes off across the street.
I laugh and follow her because she’s right. Funnel cakes sound amazing. As I walk, I take in my surroundings, hoping to spot Lincoln. I can’t find him in the crowd. He’s probably getting ready for his time slot in the dunk tank.
I’m antsy as I wait in line with Blair, trying to figure out where the Marmot Elementary School dunk tank is located.
When it’s finally our turn to order, I come face to face with none other than Lanie.
Her face takes on a look of exasperation when she sees me. “Oh, you’re still in town?”
“Yep,” I say brightly.
Blair shoots me a look that says, what’s her problem?
We order, and Lanie side-eyes us when we pay with a card instead of cash.
Moving to the side so the person behind us can order, Blair loops her arm through mine, her eyes comically round. “Why does that girl hate you?”
I snort a laugh. “She has a thing for Lincoln.”
She hums. “Ahh, I see. You’re a threat to her delusions.”
Once we all have food in hand—Otto opted for a turkey leg—we go in search of the dunk tank. The Marmot Elementary booth is set up around the corner, across the street from Bobcat’s Beer Garden.
I spot Poppy behind a table with Tripp. She’s in her overalls and a chunky sweater, and Tripp is wearing an orange sweatshirt with a Marmot’s logo on the front that matches all the other kids helping run the booth.
A line of people, mostly women, stand in line purchasing tickets. I presume the tickets are for the dunk tank.
Poppy sees me and her face lights up. “Hattie! Blair!”
We rush toward her, and she hugs us.
“Miss Hattie!” Tripp says, looking genuinely excited to see me. “Are you ready to watch Uncle Linc get dunked?”
I grin. “Yes, I can’t wait.”
“How many tickets do you want?” Poppy asks.
Hank jumps in. “I want ten.”
Poppy crosses her arms. “Hank, you know there’s a limit.”
He groans. “Fine. I’ll take three then. For each of us.”
She tears off twelve tickets for us, and he hands over a wad of cash that’s way more than the price of the tickets.
“Okay, have fun!” she says. “Lincoln should be up in just a few minutes.”
We get in line, and Blair laughs to herself.
“What?” I ask, glancing around to see what’s so funny.
“Hattie, Hank and Otto are the only men in this line.”
