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Kenny trotted off down the street as Casey paused at the marquee under the Harrison House oak trees to greet Ty, who was chatting with Winnie Barrows, a retired schoolteacher who had volunteered to staff the table.
“Hey, Ty. Everything okay, Winnie?” Casey asked.
“All good.” She raised a to-go cup from the Market. “Kat’s keeping me supplied with tea, and Kenny’s high school posse will be stopping by to give me breaks all day.”
“You’ve got my number if you need me, right?”
“Don’t worry, Casey. We’ve got this.”
Beside Casey, Ty was squinting up at a suspicious bulge in the canvas overhead. He shot a wicked grin at Casey. “Say, Winnie? Could I borrow your cane for a sec?”
“Sure.” She unhooked the curved wooden handle from the edge of the table and handed it to him.
Ty crept toward the bulge and used the cane’s rubber tip to poke the bulge, which vanished only to appear about two feet away.
“Let me guess,” Casey said. “Randolph Scott?”
“He prefers to supervise from on high.”
“I’ve noticed,” Casey said, remembering Randolph Scott lurking on top of his armoire.
“However…”
Ty set the cane against the canvas and drew it along as he walked toward the tent’s edge. Sure enough, the bulge tracked it in a series of leaps.
“Watch this,” Ty said with a grin.
“Ty Harrison,” Winnie said with mock severity, “you’re as bad as you were back in grade school. You and Eddie Mitchell gave me more gray hairs than all the other students combined. If it weren’t for Kenny Li reining you both in, you’d have spent half your recesses in the principal’s office.”
“His reins worked better on Mitch than on me, but Kenny always was the best of us. Still is.” He gave a mock bow. “Good thing he’s not here now.”
He pressed the cane against the tent again and took off, dashing around the table twice. Randolph Scott wasn’t pouncing so much now as racing along the canvas, chasing the cane.
Suddenly, Ty made a dash toward the house and into the open. And Randolph Scott, not pausing in his momentum, flew off the edge of the tent to land on the grass in a crouch.
He shook his head, ears laid back, tail puffed out like a bottle brush, before he sauntered toward the porch as if he hadn’t just made a total goober of himself.
“Fool cat can’t resist a moving target.” Ty returned Winnie’s cane. “Falls for that every time. Never gets old. See you later, folks. I’ve got a petting enclosure set up for all those fairgoers who need a little stress relief.” He walked off down the drive in a crunch of gravel.
“Casey?”
At the sound of that familiar voice, Casey’s breath seized and his head snapped around. Uncle Walt was standing near the lilac bush at the corner of the house, his bewildered glance bouncing between Casey and the path toward the summer kitchen.
Casey hurried toward him, willing his lungs to resume their regular operation. “Uncle Walt?” He gave his uncle a quick hug. “Not that I’m not glad to see you, but what are you doing here?”
“Bradley invited me for the antique fair. He’s been marketing it as far away as Atlantic City and he’s been very satisfied by the response.”
And I’ve been very satisfied to let him do the work of pulling more tourists to the area. Free advertising FTW. “Imagine that,” Casey murmured.
“Yes. A number of investors have already expressed interest in…” He watched Pete drive past in a fifteen-passenger van he’d sourced from somewhere, Home Grown Shuttle emblazoned on its doors. “I don’t understand.” Uncle Walt’s tone was plaintive. “What’s going on? I expected to find you in Merrilton with Bradley, but he said your lessons were keeping you busy here so I thought I’d stop in and see your progress, but”—he gestured helplessly—“this. What is this?”
Casey linked his elbow with his uncle and gestured expansively with his other hand. “This is Home Grown Tastes and Tunes, the food and music festival I’ve helped organize here in Home.”
“But… but what about your studies?” His expression brightened. “Are you cooking for the festival? One of your dad’s dishes? To promote the restaurant?”
Casey sighed. “Come with me. I want to show you what we’re doing here.”
“But… But…”
