

Washington's Travels

by Bobbi G

Volume I

### The Buck Starts Here

### Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013

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### TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1 - Circulation

Chapter 2 - The Heist

Chapter 3 - The Circus

Chapter 4 - Southern Drawl

Chapter 5 - County Fair

Chapter 6 - Flea Market

### CHAPTER 1

### Circulation

I was born, printed if you will, in early 2007. Agreeably, I'm looking a bit worn and tattered. And if you'll indulge me, I'll explain. You see, I have quite a story to tell.

It all started when I arrived at a bank in the quaint, little town of Freeport, Maine. I knew my destination because I overheard the uniformed custodians on the armored truck discussing the day's deliveries. Excited to be bundled with other brand new bills such as myself; crisp, clean, and ready for circulation I'd only heard rumors of life outside the mint. Not quite sure what to expect, however, I couldn't wait to be of service in any way possible. And the endless possibilities intrigued me as to the monetary assistance I would be able to provide.

Arriving at the bank, my sack was removed from the armored truck and placed in the vault where I stayed until the next morning when currency was removed from the vault and placed in teller drawers. Voices were saying it was a beautiful Wednesday morning and I couldn't wait to know what a beautiful Maine morning felt like...and looked like, if I would be so lucky on my first day in circulation to catch a glimpse. As fate would have it, I was handed to the most endearing elderly woman when she cashed her Social Security check. Brimming with smiles and laughter, she placed me in her purse, which smelled of old leather and lavender. And thus my journey began...

****

Sadly, it was a momentarily blissful relationship, as Martha (I'd heard the bank teller call her) left the bank and walked directly across the street to the market where she intended to purchase her weekly staples. Gathering necessities she hummed softly as she made her way through the store greeting everyone she passed in the aisle with "hello, dear" or, "good morning." How delightfully cheerful Martha's demeanor was as I hoped I would spend time getting to know her. At that moment a gentlemen's voice spoke.

"Martha darling, is that you?"

Martha drew in a breath as she turned toward the voice and exclaimed, "Why, Henry you ol' coot, you startled me," she said laughing. "What has you at the market this morning? Where's Eleanor?"

"She's down in her back again. Just thought I'd help out and pick up a few things for the pantry," Henry said in a cheerful tone. "Not sure I shop as well as she does, but I'm giving it a try."

"Oh my goodness, did she go to Dr. Newberry?" Martha asked; concern for her friend accented in every syllable. "He'll fix her right as rain, lickety-split."

"No, no, she hasn't seen your son yet." Henry said with an air of orneriness. "How is the good doctor doing anyway?" he then inquired.

"Oh, you know Henry, with three kids and starting his own practice I just don't know where he finds the time." She chuckled, slightly embarrassed about suggesting her son. "Is Eleanor taking calls? I'll ring as soon as I get home and see if she needs anything."

"Please do," Henry urged. "She'd love to hear from you Martha. I'll tell her to expect your call."

"Well, I suppose I'd better get this ice cream home or she'll tan my hide." Henry laughed. Martha and Henry continued chatting about Eleanor as they walked together toward the cashier.

****

"That will be thirty-seven-forty-six, Mrs. Newberry."

"Dear, please call me Martha," she requested of the cashier. "Goodness, prices aren't what they used to be forty years ago when I started shopping here," Martha sighed heavily, not of sadness...more melancholy. As if a lifetime of memories escaped in one breath. "Yet, I do need my weekly groceries. Here you are, dear."

As I was placed in the young girl's hand with some of my peers I looked into Martha's face framed in silver curls, tucked neatly under the floral hat she wore on sunny days. However fleeting my time with Martha, I'm honored to have assisted in purchasing her weekly essentials. As she handed me over to the clerk, she smiled as if giving a gift to a grandchild. I still miss the smell of lavender. Sigh.

As expected, the market was busy that day; evidenced by the continuous ringing of cash registers tallying shoppers' totals. Almost immediately I became the possession of a young woman with two small children, a boy and a girl. Hurriedly, she tossed me into her oversized pocket book with the rest of her change, where it smelled of stale perfume and chewing gum.

Gathering her purchases, and her children, she ushered us out of the store. As soon as we walked through the glass front doors, the young boy rather noisily started complaining about wanting ice cream. In an effort to placate the child his mother offered to purchase a drink from the vending machine.

"Tommy, we don't have time for ice cream," she explained. "Besides, it's too hot. It'll just melt in the car. How about a soda you and Chelsea can share?" his mother spoke evenly, disguising her frustration.

"Okay...but can we have ice cream tomorrow?!" the young boy pleaded eagerly.

"We'll see," his mom answered sounding distracted.

Temporality frantic, I dreaded the thought of spending time in a vending machine with cold metal roughing up my still crisp edges. I could only imagine going through the blinding lighted currency indicator as panic started to ease the edges of my mind. Only to let out a huge sigh of relief when I was spared by her retrieving the correct change from the bottom of this oversized satchel I was being transported in.

The ride home proved rather enlightening. Apparently, this young woman had been left to fend for herself and her children while her husband was away in the military. He was overseas and even though her words sounded positive for the sake of her children I sensed worry in her tone.

"Mommy, when will daddy come home?" whined the younger child, Chelsea.

"He has a job to do honey and we must be brave soldiers and wait until he gets his work done," replied their mother.

"But I want him home now!" her daughter wailed.

One could almost feel her mother sigh. As I was beginning to feel sympathy for her, she suddenly realized the car needed gas and pulled abruptly into the corner gas station. Hastily dumping the contents of her purse onto the passenger seat, I was exposed and collected with other bills to pay the attendant.

Regretfully, that's when things became rather unpleasant. The attendant, a somewhat abrupt and unfriendly fellow, was filthy from head to toe and proceeded to smear me with a huge greasy thumb print as he took me from the outstretched hand of the young woman. Admittedly, I looked and smelled dreadful in an instant. Briefly I glimpsed the word "Spud" on his uniform before he crammed me into the cash register, which reeked of motor oil. Egads, I nearly passed out from the stench!

Blessing of all blessings when Spud made change for the next customer and he pulled me from the register with the opposite hand...no greasy thumb. Hurriedly gulping fresh air as a young man gingerly wadded me up and shoved me in his front pocket of his jeans, I was relieved. Yes, crumpled, yet blissfully quiet, I was hoping to take refuge for awhile. It had only been a few hours, yet circulation proved to be exhausting thus far. I suppose I was having an off day of it and hoped my comrades were faring better than I.

Fortunately, this young man had just gotten off work and was on his way home. Turning up the radio as he sped out of the gas station I heard a crazy country tune about 'let me check you for ticks.' A rather interesting concept, I thought as he drove.

Finally arriving at our destination, his apartment, the pants I was contained in were thrown on a heaping pile of dirty clothes as soon as he entered his bedroom. After what appeared to be days, I tried in vain to capture the young man's attention.

"Hello. Hello, are you out there?" I repeated to no avail.

Sigh. I was forgotten.

****

After what seemed like an eternity I was abruptly woken from my nap realizing he had decided to do his laundry. My mind reeled with the anticipation of finally being freed from my confinement.

"Gads, boy don't you check your pockets!" I shrieked as he tossed me into the washing machine with the other clothes.

"Would it hurt? Would I wrinkle? Would the grease come out?"

I, however, survived the unexpected trauma of the washing machine. By the way, I wouldn't recommend the 'spin' cycle. My head is still reeling from the experience.

And after been thoroughly toasted into complete dryness I gratefully welcomed the sound of the dryer buzzing, signaling the end of my ordeal. The pants, in which I was concealed, were folded and placed in yet another pile. To my dismay, he really had forgotten about me...again.

Two weeks later, while practicing my meditation, I was jolted back into reality as the young chap's over excitement became apparent when he hurriedly dressed for a date by grabbing the jeans in which I resided. As he drove to pick her up, he didn't have the radio turned up and I in what sounded like a late model '69 Mustang. I wish I could have gotten a better look at it, but I was still crumpled and cramped in the bottom of the front pocket. Calling her Julie when we arrived, I thought she smelled attractive. Although I am only relating to you what I was sensing from my confined space. She called him Frankie at one point, so I committed his name to my memory. Frankie and Julie were on a date. This could prove to be very interesting...and exciting.

Arriving at what sounded like the local burger hang-out; even I must admit my mouth started watering. The most delicious aromas filled the air. Julie sounded very pleasant and expressly interested in this fellow Frankie. Their conversation was light and airy; and I must admit, a tad bit flirty.

"You look beautiful tonight Julie and you smell wonderful." Frankie gushed.

"How sweet, thank you," she said coyly. "You look very handsome yourself. Are you wearing cologne?" she asked.

"Ah...no, I forgot to put some on. But I can buy some if you want me to!" he offered too eagerly.

Egads boy, relax and enjoy the moment, or risk scaring the object of your attention away. Personal hygiene isn't dinner conversation!

"Don't be silly. You needn't to do that. Must just be the soap you used. It's...um...very nice," she said sounding embarrassed that she even brought it up.

"This must be a first date," I pondered, and with that I blushed at my eavesdropping.

After dinner, as they were ready to leave, I sensed a bit of a panic as he searched for tip money. Anxiously putting his hands in all his pockets his embarrassment abated by relief as he retrieved me and placed me on the table. Yes, there I was...washed, crumpled and looking as if I had aged five years. However, I was proud of the job I had just been assigned...gratuity, for a meal well served.

The waitress, a young girl in her early twenties, nonchalantly slid me in her apron where I managed to stay until closing finding it especially pleasing to find myself in new surroundings after almost three weeks in the young lover's pocket. Left to my own thoughts, I could hear scattered bits of conversation as the waitress made her rounds with me in tow.

An older couple was discussing a trip to Florida as soon as their daughter had her baby. Two gentlemen were tossing around the idea of going into business together. And a woman with an accent I could not ascertain was apparently talking to herself. At least it appeared that way. Upon further reflection, I've decided she must have been using a blue tooth or some other electronic device causing folks to appear to be speaking to no one actually present. Technology amuses me, all the gadgets humans have and they still rely on paper money.

After her shift, she counted me out with the rest of her tips, sighed, and took me home only to place me in a coffee can over the fridge with many other bills patiently waiting to amount to a down payment on her first car. Truly an honor to be in such a position, as I stand firm in my vocation and will not fail to produce the desired results every time because, as the nature of my service, I know someday soon, I will be on the move again.

"Wow, it sure is dark in here," I noted.

"Hmpf!"

"Oh, excuse me. How long have you been here?"

"Don't ask."

"That long, huh?"

### CHAPTER 2

The Heist

Perhaps car-buying day has arrived as the coffee can has been removed from its perch atop the fridge as we were nervously retrieved from our safe-keeping containment to be counted. Just to be sure there were enough of us, she counted three times. Making a neat pile each time; then her small, yet soft, hands gently placed us in an envelope which she put in her purse for safe keeping. We were off to buy a car and, I admit, I felt privileged to play a role in the purchase.

Taking the bus, for, I'm sure, what the waitress hoped would be the last time; it deposited her a few blocks from her destination. Walking briskly at first, I noticed her paced started to slow as she approached the dealership. "She must be having doubts, I ascertained." Yet, arriving at the glass door, she paused, only for a moment. Then letting out a deep breath, she pushed open the door and entered.

"Wow, is that new paint?" I exclaimed! The odor was overpowering. The dealer showroom smelled of fresh paint and new carpet. They must have remodeled recently, I ascertained as she timidly walked across the carpet.

Hearing the sound of other footfalls I realized there were numerous people in the room and someone was approaching. A man with a warm, friendly voice asked her if he could help her. She responded with the salesman's name she had talked to on the phone. A few minutes later the intercom system crackled and the announcement was made.

"Alex Johnson, you have a customer in the showroom. Alex Johnson, to the showroom, please," came the broadcast.

A few moments later, another male voice, this one younger and more eager, greeted her, "Cynthia, how are you today? I've had your car all cleaned up and even filled the gas tank!"

"Thank you, Mr. Johnson," she stammered nervously as she pulled the envelope I was in out of her purse. I could feel her hand shaking as she spoke to the salesmen. "I've brought the down payment. It's all there, five hundred dollars" she announced proudly.

"I'm sure it is," he said enthusiastically. "Just hang on to that for a moment Cynthia until we sign some papers. Then we'll get Mr. Hastings in here," he instructed her, motioning for her to sit down in one of the empty chairs in front of his desk. Alex, if I may use his first name, had a corner cubicle with a view of the used car lot. He asked her to look out the window to see her new, if slightly used, car. She let out a small gasp as she realized her dream of owning her own car was coming true then leaned over to sign some paperwork. I held my breath tightly, as the excitement was almost too much to bear.

After the paperwork was completed, he led her towards the back of the showroom to Mr. Hastings in finance where she sat down and placed the envelope on her lap and held on tightly with both hands. Oh dear, her knees were shaking. She certainly was nervous. After a brief introduction, she handed her down payment to Fred Hastings, who counted us. Satisfied, excused himself to carry the envelope to the cashier. A very friendly lady who smelled of honeysuckle took us out of the envelope and counted again. Hearing the smile in her voice she thanked Fred and placed me in a leather pouch for the nightly bank deposit; proud of yet another deed of significant importance in someone's life.

****

The trip through the banking system didn't last long as I was handed over to a soft spoken, wrinkled man in a plaid short-sleeve shirt that has seen better days. The teller called him Carl, and asked him to tell his wife hello. Carl, thank her graciously and left the bank with a friendly wave.

When we arrived at his grocery store half an hour later, soft music was playing on an old radio he'd kept on the top shelf over the flour for better than thirty years. This, small, yet quaint, corner store smelled of cinnamon and...wait...was that lavender I smelled also? But there was also a trace of years of formed friendships, countless free candy for children, and even faint recollections of young lovers traveling through on their way to a future together. Oh, but the memories these aged walls must hold. This store had certainly given witness to many lives in its time on the corner. It was part of the history of this small town; part of everyone in the neighborhood.

Going through the motions of what was probably decades of the same routine Carl very carefully, almost lovingly, put me in the cash register with the rest of the bills from the bank. The cash register was still the original one Carl and his wife bought when they opened the store in 1957. Carl was fond of saying, "If it ain't broke, no need to buy a new one." Speaking of those digital, high tech registers his wife wanted him buy. She kept saying it would be safer if they were ever robbed. But I must say, I agreed with Carl, it felt good to be placed in a drawer where so many countless peers before me had resided however fleetingly.

Sensing Bess watching him with worried eyes Carl chimed, "In forty years we've never been robbed, and we aren't getting robbed Bess," Carl said to her calmly. "Now just settle down and put out some fresh apples. It's going to be a wonderful day," Carl spoke happily convinced the day would be grand. Bess responded about something happening to Zack's hardware store down the street and she just felt they should take precautions was all she was saying as she dusted the candy jars on the front of the counter. She went on to say the neighborhood just wasn't the same anymore.

An early morning regular customer came in and bought a newspaper and one of Bess' fresh, homemade fried pies.

"The wind has really picked up this morning," he said as he took a bite of the still warm pie. I could almost hear satisfaction in his grin as he handed money to Carl. The old register had a quaint resounding chime when he rang up the sale; almost as if to announce the continuation of a life-long tradition.

"You're always the first one here. Thanks, Sam. Tell Susie hello for us," Carl called out as the man left the store.

"Sure thing," he responded as the door closed behind him.

Suddenly, I heard the glass front door open in a fury and bang against the wall. From inside the register I could hear Bess let out a small gasp as Carl said, "That wind sure is strong. May I help you find something, son?" Whoever walked in the store didn't respond, but I could hear him approach the counter. Unexpectedly, there was shouting. I couldn't ascertain the exact exchange of conversation but it sounded aggressive.

Abruptly, the cash drawer was opened and the light was blinding. You see, I was on the top of the stack; the next to leave if I was needed to make change. Just as swiftly as the drawer opened an unfamiliar gloved hand reached in and starting yanking out the other denominations.

"Not me, not me," I pleaded. It almost worked; until the robber thought twice and reached in and grabbed my stack also.

Shouting at the old man to stay down and not move, I could hear Bess sobbing somewhere in a corner of the store. He stuffed handful of bills into a backpack. I was halfway out and not very secure as he hurriedly exited through the same door he entered. Momentarily caught off guard by a gust of wind, he paused before he headed north on Front Street. However, that gust of wind had freed me from my precarious position as the last one in the backpack.

Trying to stretch myself out to catch as much wind as possible, I wanted to float as far away from this misguided young man as possible. Temporarily caught by the corner stop sign, a second gust of wind blew me across Front Street where I landed on a brick window sill.

Just as I noticed the paint chipping on the window sash, I was airborne yet again and finally came to rest on the windshield of a large pickup truck covered almost completely in mud. Sniffing the air, I wasn't so sure it was mud. Quickly recognizing the smell as manure, I set about trying to free myself by lifting my edges and hoping one would catch the draught. Oddly, the sound of whistling could be heard over the wind as I anxiously realized I had gotten caught in the wiper blade.

Almost as soon as I pondered who the vehicle's owner was, I realized the whistling was coming toward me. Indeed, around the back corner of the truck came a red headed, freckled face fellow wearing a blue cap, plaid shirt and red suspenders. Still whistling he spotted me and his face lit up in a huge grin.

"Oh, little Hannah will love this," he mused as he rescued me from the wiper. Pausing to open the truck door he folded me and tucked me in his shirt pocket, which smelled faintly of fertilizer. Thankfully, I wasn't drifting in the wind anymore, while, I admit, it was exciting and frightening at the same time; it was also quit dizzying.

Riding in his breast pocket he continued whistling the same tune and was quite good. The truck finally came to a halt as he bounced out. This is a rather happy fellow I thought as I heard the sound of huge equipment and smelled the almost overpowering aroma of fertilizer. Perhaps, this must be where he works, I thought...and I was right.

After an exhausting day filing fertilizer orders, we were, I hoped, heading home and relieving ourselves of this dreadful smell of fertilizer. Dozing as he drove and whistled, I was jolted awake by the shrill of a small child's laughter. We had arrived at his modest home and a new smell filled my nostrils...pot roast.

Suddenly, I was being jostled up and down as I realized he was bouncing the laughing child on his knee. She was begging for a present and laughing merrily.

"Ah...a present ye want my dear, sweet, Hannah?"

"Yes dada, yes! What have you brought me?!"

Wrinkling his nose he thought for a minute. He usually brings her sugar cookies or a piece of Bess' homemade candy. But today he didn't have time to stop at the corner store. Although he remembered hearing sirens as he pulled away from the hardware store and made a mental note to stop by and check on Carl tomorrow.

"Well then, 'tis a present ye get," as he reached in his pocket and pulled me out and handed me over to the child. Hannah squealed as she reached for me and kissed her father on the cheek at the same time. Her strawberry blonde hair and big blue eyes danced as she giggled to herself. Dismounting from her father's lap she skipped down the hallway squealing with glee. Placing me on her soft pink bedspread she ran to her closet where she kept her box of treasures. Returning to the bed she placed the box on the floor then delicately picked me up only to sit on the floor beside the box and examine me. Flipping me over and over I was reminded of my flight down Front Street. Patiently awaiting her to satisfy her curiosity, I hoped it would be quickly.

Seemingly happy with my less than immaculate appearance, even the remnants of the greasy thumb print, still faintly visible, Hannah gently laid me on top of the contents of the box, which she then put back in its former resting place. I was comforted by the fact that I was among her favorite things. Some of which I caught a glimpse of before she placed me in the box. If memory serves, there was the remnant of a pink tattered ribbon, a shiny brass key, a Barbie doll head, a reddish pink rock and a keychain with the name of the amusement park her father had taken her to last year on it. Yes, without question I felt honored to be counted among her favorite things.

Bright and early the next day, however, I was called into action. Hannah opened the box and took me out. Folding me carefully, as if she were afraid to injure me, she placed me lovingly in her little pink purse. Not sure what she was so excited about, I just knew we were going somewhere that day. Hearing her father call her name and tell her we were going to be late she excitedly ran down the stairs and into his arms. The purse, bouncing around on her arm jumbled me about like popcorn in a bag. My anticipation was mounting.

Her father told her to put her coat on or they would be late for church. How wonderful I thought, this would be my first trip to church. As the little girl climbed in the car with me in tow, all I could think of was how I had only heard wonderful things about church. Arriving a few minutes later, the little girl was a bundle of joy as she jumped out of the car and ran towards the church. Forgetting her purse on the seat her father called out to her, "Hannah, Hannah! You forgot your purse."

Giggling, she came running back to the car sweeping her purse off the seat still giggling; then she turned swiftly around to run back towards the church. She certainly was a bundle of excitement. I heard her tell her daddy she wanted to find a good seat. Finding a seat quickly they sat down as she held me tightly on her lap; in her purse, of course.

Suddenly, we stood up and I heard music start to play as everyone started to sing. The little girl sang as loud as she could with a smile in her heart. Seated again, she shifted her purse to rest beside her as the pastor started to speak to the congregation. From where I was inside her purse it sounded like such a wonderful service.

Towards the end of the service I heard commotion in the aisles. Apparently, it was time for the offering. To my surprise the little girl reached in her purse and pulled me out. She was grinning from ear to ear as she readied to place me in the offering plate. Her eagerness was overflowing causing pride and joy to swell within me. Her father suddenly spoke asking, "Are you sure you want to offer your dollar, sweetheart?"

"Oh yes daddy, more than anything!" The little girl said in a voice beaming with delight. And as the silver plate was passed to her she gently laid me on top of the other offerings that had been made.

Such a sweet child, I wish I had spent more time getting to know her. But as the nature of what I do, sometimes I move very swiftly into the lives of others. Not even to be taken home by some.

Yet, as more and more offerings were piled on top of me I assumed they had a very large congregation that morning. At last, the collection was complete and I was stacked with some other offering trays and carried to a back room where I was very carefully counted out with the rest. Stacked neatly on another pile of bills, a rubber band was placed around us as we were then added to get another pile and placed inside a dark fabric bag. Suddenly I heard the zipper close and supposed I'd be waiting till the next morning to be taken to the bank for deposit. Therefore, I decided to retire for the rest of the day.

****

It was going to be a long day at the bank the next morning as I found myself holding up a large pile of my peers. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind being on the bottom of the stack. To me, it doesn't matter whether you are first or last. It's the fact that you are present and ready to do your duty when called upon. And I was ready.

Unable to discern voices throughout the day because of the muffling effect of my peers I entertained myself with the possibilities of where I might be needed next. Would I end up at a county fair? Or, a trip aboard a cruise ship to a tropical island? Or, traveling cross country with a band? The possibilities are endless.

Lost in my daydreams I suddenly realized the teller was tallying her drawer to reconcile it with the computer printout. The bank was closing and I was still awaiting my next adventure; possibly tomorrow then. I had no choice but to wait.

### CHAPTER 3

### The Circus

Tuesday morning proved to be much busier than Monday. Overhearing the tellers talking, they noted that it was the first of the month therefore, today would be a very busy day indeed. And they were right! I was out of the cash drawer and handed to an elegantly dressed elderly woman with a brisk attitude before noon.

As she departed the bank she made a call to her daughter and arranged lunch at a little bistro across town. Ending the call she hurriedly got in her car and pulled out of the bank parking lot. Sitting at a stop light her phone rang. Answering quickly, she soon became annoyed with the caller. I wasn't certain, but I assumed by her side of the conversation, it was her husband. Tossing the phone into her purse on the passenger seat she was muttering something to herself about always having to do everything. Understandably, I could sense her irritation.

As she pulled up to the bistro she seemed to relax. Grabbing her oversized pocket book, in which I was safely tucked inside her leather wallet, she dashed inside to find a good table. As I recalled her telling her daughter on the phone, "Get there as early as you can dear. You know how all the best tables at Angelo's go quickly." I gathered this was an upscale establishment where fine dining was to be enjoyed. Thus, entering the large wooden, double front door she looked around in search of the maître d'. Not immediately spotting him, she asked a waiter standing nearby if Carlos was available.

"No ma'am today is his day off."

"Well, fooee! I've come in from New York and this is the only restaurant within fifty miles where I'll eat," she stated flatly. "He shouldn't have the day off when I arrive," she retorted. Then she laughed gaily at the look of what must have been dismay on the waiter's face. "Oh, go on then, seat me at the best table you have available. My daughter will be joining me momentarily."

"Mother! Mother! I'm already here. Come sit down," a young lady's voice called from somewhere nearby.

"Julia, darling!" she exclaimed. "How ever did you beat me here Julia?" she said leaning over the table for a kiss on the cheek.

"I took the expressway. It's open all the way to exit 104 now," Julia explained as she kissed her mother on both cheeks.

Inside her Gucci handbag I could smell the wonderful aromas of French cuisine in the air. As they ate, I listened to the two women catch up on each other's lives, hearing the slight hesitation in the older woman's voice as she insisted everything was fine.

"Yes, I know you say you're fine. But what did the doctor say mom?" Julia asked. "And don't tell me nothing; I can see it in your eyes," pleaded her daughter.

"Oh, you know. The usual," her mother said sounding rather bored with the subject of her health. "They want to do more tests. But I'm sure everything will be just fine. Besides, I feel great today," the elder woman said trying to dismiss the discussion.

Not willing to push her mother, Julia didn't mention it again for the rest of their meal. When it came time to leave the older woman pulled out a stack of ones, of which I was included, and laid them on the table.

"Oh, I need those for the kids this weekend." Julia said quickly. "Rob and I are taking them to the circus. Use this instead," she said as she picked us up and put a ten down on the table. Stuffing me in a separate change purse with numerous other single bills, she zipped it shut and placed us back in her clutch.

Yes, my travels had taken a turn; this time to the circus. And I could hardly wait.

****

In Julia's purse waiting for the weekend I discovered that she had two girls and a boy. There were the eight year old twins, Alyssa and Anthony; and her youngest daughter Maria, who was only four. T'was an enlightening week, I might add, as I learned about their lives.

Saturday morning finally arrived, as if by magic, as the excited children were a bundle of eagerness that morning. Laughing and giggling at breakfast about all the things they were going to do, and see, at the circus. This, apparently, would be their first circus and they could hardly contain themselves. Yet, they had to practice patiencebecause the circus wouldn't start until later that afternoon, and so they had to wait; a difficult task for precocious youngsters to do, indeed.

Egads, I could hardly wait! Never brought to a circus either, my anticipation was bubbling over like Old Faithful. The hours seemed to tick by slowly as I tried to imagine all the exciting animals and circus acts that would be there. Oh, and the clowns. Perhaps, I'll have a chance to see the clowns.

Finally, everyone was preparing to leave as their mom was telling the children to make sure they used the bathroom and washed their hands. Good rule of thumb, surely to prevent unforeseen delays. After all the...um...necessities were attended to, we were off to the circus. As the twins loaded themselves in to the car, talking at the same time they asked their parents, "Will there be elephants?" Oh, I hope so, I thought.

"Will there be lions?" Oh, I do believe that should prove rather exciting.

"Can we play with the clowns?" little Maria piped in.

Laughing their mother said, "No, Maria, the clowns have to stay in the arena. They won't be able to play." Although, I knew she was right, I could hear the disappointment in her daughter's sigh. She must have heard it too, because she added that there might be clowns outside they could play with. This seemed to lift big sister Alyssa's spirits because she started asking even more questions.

Arriving at the arena we parked quite a distance from the entrance because we walked for several minutes before I heard the sounds of a crowd of people waiting to see the circus. I overheard several children asking their parents questions about the animals. And one young fellow asked if he could take a lion home, to which his father agreed at the sharp retort of his wife. All in fun, I quickly ascertained, as everyone laughed, even bystanders.

Once inside the gates, Rob gave orders for everyone to hold hands and stay close. Even I could tell it sounded extremely crowded. Barkers could be heard over the noise of the crowd, "Programs! Get your program!" Others were shouting, "Fresh hot peanuts! Get your peanuts!" Yet another was selling puppet monkeys, circus hats, toy lions and other items of interest to small children. Suddenly, Maria gasped, pointing her finger she giggled, "Monkey." Then the other children spotted the man dressed in striped pants and a bright yellow silk shirt with red suspenders carrying a monkey on his shoulder walking toward us.

Rob stopped so the children could get a better look at the monkey. The gentleman said to the children, "Hello, my name is Barry. Would you fine children happen to know where I can find my monkey Cirrus? He seems to be lost."

The twins burst out laughing and in unison, pointed and said, "He's on your shoulder!"

"My shoulder?!" Barry exclaimed in a loud voice as he looked toward his right just as the monkey went behind his neck and sat on his left shoulder. The children roared with laughter and said, "Your other shoulder!"

"My other shoulder?" Barry mused as he looked toward his left shoulder just as the monkey preformed his disappearing act again and moved to his right shoulder causing the children to laugh hysterically. Then Barry looked down at little Maria and asked gently, "Do you know where Cirrus is young lady?" As Maria pointed to the monkey, Barry reached up with his right hand. The monkey grabbed his first finger and shook his hand. Maria and the twins giggled as Barry said, "Oh, there you are Cirrus ol' fellow," Barry said sounding surprised. "Well, now that you helped me find my monkey, could you fine young children tell me where the circus is?"

Giggles exploded again as Anthony said, "You are here!" What fun the children were having and the circus hadn't even begun.

"Goodness, then I best be on my way," Barry said matter-of-factly. "Good day to you. Enjoy the circus," Barry said bidding farewell. I overheard Rob and Julia thank Barry for entertaining the children, and he was quite entertaining. Then the twins held their mom's hands as Rob carried Marie and they set out to find their seats. Apparently, we were walking down a large corridor when Rob suddenly shouted, "There's 301, over there!" as we may our way toward the section entrance. Following along, his wife held onto Anthony and Alyssa hands as we walked through the short alcove.

The atmosphere suddenly became charged with excitement as the sounds and smells of the circus intensified. Orders were being shouted out down at the arena level where the three rings of the circus held the performances. The children's growing anticipation was demonstrated by a constant flow of questioning.

"Where will the lions be?"

"Can I ride an elephant?"

"Do clowns always have a happy face?" And more and more questions. Rob and Julia tried answering as many as they could as I detected their excitement growing.

"I'm trust-ty," Maria muttered to her mother as she sat on her lap.

"Rob will you get the kids something to eat and drink while I stay here with them? Just take some money out of here," Julia said handing him the small zippered bag in which I was folded.

"Certainly! What does everyone want?" he asked.

A trio of voices excitedly responded, "Soda!"

"Popcorn!"

"Peanuts!"

"Okay, I'll be right back," Rob said disappearing down the aisle and into the alcove. He walked hurriedly, I assumed because he didn't want to miss anything going on in the arena. Neither did I!

Arriving at the concession stand he placed his order; then unzipped the change pouch pulling me out with several other bills.

"No! Wait! I don't want to be here, I'll miss the circus!" I pleaded to no avail as Rob handed me to the young man behind the counter. Deflated, I was certain I would spend the entire circus in a cash register as I heard Rob take his order and leave to return to his family. Almost immediately, and to my delight however, I was handed to a young woman and her son. She tucked me in her wallet, then gathered her soft drinks and turned to walk toward their seats.

Along the way, her son spotted the vendor selling toys and asked his mother if he could get the stuffed lion. "Well, let's see how much it is?" his mother suggested as they walked over to the vendor I could hear a small male child crying, as his dad tried to sooth him.

"That will be $11.50," the vendor told her when she asked about the lion.

Hearing her sigh heavily, she looked at her son and asked, "Would you really like this lion, or do you want to see if you see anything else?"

"The lion! The lion! Please, Mommy. Pleeease!" the little boy pleaded. Quickly, I found myself in the hands of the vendor in exchange for the lion. As I heard the little fellow laugh with delight I was grateful for the opportunity to assist yet again.

The circus, I realized, was becoming a host of opportunities to serve. And just as I expressed this thought to myself, I was handed to an older gentleman who was given change for a monkey puppet.

Grinning at the monkey, he murmured under his breath, "Matty, is going to love you." as he shoved me in his front pocket. Walking back to his seat I soon discovered Matty was his ten year old granddaughter.

Jumping out of her seat as we approached she shrieked, "Is he for me?! Thank you, Popo. Thank you!" and hugged her grandfather so tightly that I could almost feel her grinning from ear to ear.

"I'm going to call him Bojo," she announced as she started to play with him in the space between the two rows of seats. "Watch Popo, I can make him walk," she exclaimed excitedly.

"Yes you can!" said her grandfather...a note of sadness in his voice. "Oh, look Matty, the circus is getting ready to start. Here come the elephants!"

"Where?! Where!?" Matty shouted excitedly.

"Over there in the corner. See them walking out!" he said motioning with his right hand.

Gasping, she said, "I see them!" Then she paused for a moment and said, "I wish mommy and daddy could be here. Daddy likes elephants," she stated firmly as she leaned forward in her seat to get a better view.

"They are watching Matty-Lynn. You carry them with you everywhere in your heart. Remember?" he said, trying his best to sound positive for his granddaughter.

"I know Popo," she said bravely, seemingly pacified by his gentle reminder.

"May I have some popcorn, Popo?"

"Well, of course, you can Matty. We're at the circus!" he exclaimed happy that she had changed the subject of her parents. I couldn't help but wonder what had happened to them. However, by the tone of his voice I felt it hadn't been that long ago; yet, how wonderful of her grandfather to take her to the circus to cheer her up. Even for an afternoon.

****

Finding myself now in the hands of a young lady shouting, "Popcorn! Get your fresh, hot popcorn!" I could hear the music from the arena getting louder, and assumed she was walking down the steps toward the lower level of the stadium as the rhythm of the money pouch I was being carried in was jostling up and down.

Suddenly, I heard the ring master welcoming everyone to a resounding applause from the audience. Anticipation was escalating as the elephants continued to parade around the three rings with various performers riding their backs and doing tricks, to the excited cheers of the crowd.

Oh, how I wanted to be able to see what was going on as the ring master directed everyone's attention to the flying acrobats. What a complete feeling of freedom it must be to be able to fly through the air without the fear of falling; unlike when I was unexpectedly caught in that strong wind that blew me away from the robber. I was worried that I might be blown into a ditch and forgotten. Yet, I stretched myself out so as to feel the full impact of the air and it landed me on that old pickup truck and that amazing child who placed me in the offering plate. Funny, how we first assume something bad will happen, until we let go of our fear, which then allows something good to happen.

Just then I was handed to a teenage boy who immediately handed me to his father who was intently watching the acrobats perform. Distracted he held me in his hand while he watched the show, allowing me to see the graceful air dance of the male performers as they floated effortlessly through the air. Soon, a tall, blonde woman joined them as they tossed her back and forth between them while she flawlessly executed a series of flips in mid-air. It was incredibly breath-taking.

The gentleman didn't put me in his billfold until after the act finished. The acrobat show was enthralling, and I was grateful to have witnessed such a graceful performance. His son asked to go to the restroom just then and I was handed to him with several other bills as his dad asked him to bring back a soda. "Okay," said the boy as he walked slowly up the stairs backwards, so as to not miss any of the show. Held tightly in his hand, I witnessed dozens of clowns coming out of a very small vehicle to the delight of the audience.

There were big clowns and small clowns all dressed in the most brightly colored collection of patterns. They wore stripes and poke-a-dots. They wore stars and plaid. They wore big fuzzy hair in all colors and lengths. One even wore hair striped in an array of colors. I never realized clowns were so festive. One carried a horn, which he tooted at small children in the audience. Another one carried a rubber chicken, while the littlest clown carried a bucket and chased the biggest clown around the car several times.

Laughter from the audience reverberated off the walls as the little clown cornered the bigger clown and threw the contents of the bucket at him. As colored paper rained down on him, children shrieked with delight as the applause grew. Suddenly, we were at the top of the stairs and the young lad headed out the breezeway and into the large corridor, almost empty now as everyone had taken their seats to enjoy the show.

Finding his way to the concession stand he ordered two soft drinks and handed me over to the young girl behind the counter. As he went back to sit with his father I was placed in the cash register. The constant stream of customers had obviously slowed down since the circus started and things were relatively quiet. Overhearing the young cashier tell the older one about something her boyfriend said to her last night, I got the impression she was quite excited about something.

"I didn't know your birthday was next week Samantha. Happy Birthday! How old are you going to be?" the older cashier asked.

"Twenty-four, and I'm so excited Tommy asked me out to dinner. He said he wants to talk to me about something!" Samantha exclaimed.

"Ohhh girl, do you think he's going to propose?"

"I sure hope so!" Samantha answered in a dreamy, sing-song tone.

Just then a lady came up to the counter and asked for four hotdogs and four drinks. Gathering her order I could hear Samantha softly humming to herself. She sounded so much in love. I was so happy for her and silently wished her the best.

Making change I was taken out the drawer and handed to the woman. A little disappointed I wouldn't hear all about Samantha's boyfriend, however, I was elated to be returning to the circus.

****

Beginning the lion act, the ring master was introducing the lion tamer as the woman I was handed to found her seat. Placed inside her wallet, I could only hear what was going on as the crowd erupted in a roar of applause when the lion tamer entered the ring. Explaining a little about lions and what he was about to do, he asked the audience to be as quite as possible to not scare the lions.

A hush fell over the onlookers as the lion tamer entered the huge cage. Taking up his whip the only sound heard over the soft murmuring of the crowd was the crack of the whip as he made the lions execute their routine. After several leaps through hoops and walking on large balls I heard him bark commands to the lions to take their places as he turned to address the audience.

"I will now attempt to place my head in the mouth of a lion," he spoke to the simultaneous gasp of the crowd. "Please be as quiet as possible everyone. We don't want anyone to lose their head," he said as the crowd chuckled. Then handing his whip to his assistant he walked over to the biggest lion. The crowd stared in silence. As he readied himself to perform the trick the crowd was mesmerized. I so desperately wanted to see what was about to happen.

I heard him order the lion to lie down on its platform. He must have grabbed its jaws as the audience gasped in unison. "I will now pry the jaws of this beast open and place my head inside," he shouted with a dramatic flair.

As the crowd held its breath young children were climbing on their parents laps; part in fear, part in wanting a better view. As the lion tamer started to lean his face toward the lion's mouth you could have heard a pin drop. Suddenly, every man, woman and child exhaled as the lion tamer placed his head in the mouth of the ferocious beast. The momentary tension was almost unbearable.

Yet, almost as quickly as he placed his head in the lion's mouth, he pulled it back out, just as the lion snapped his jaws shut, causing half the crowd to jump in their seats. Gales of nervous laughter and excited cheers filled the arena as amazed onlookers felt a unanimous sigh of relief. Whew! I was relieved no one lost their head.

Apparently, the lion act signaled the end of the show as the woman, her husband and their two children started the slow walk back through the excited crowd who were still talking about the lion act. Stopping long enough to buy a circus program, I remained in the woman's wallet as she paid with a larger denomination. For how long, I did not know.

### CHAPTER 4

Southern Drawl

Several days after the circus as I quietly reminisced about the graceful movements of the acrobats I heard the woman, her name I learned was Barbara, explaining to her husband one night over dinner. "I'm flying to our European headquarters this Thursday for a board meeting at the Paris office. I'll call Nana to come help with the girls."

"When will you return," her husband inquired, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Nana's coming! Nana's coming!" one of her daughters chanted skipping down the hall to her sister's room.

"Tell your sister to get ready, we leave in five minutes!" her father called after her. I was still in Barbara's wallet, in her purse, lying on the counter in the kitchen where she tosses it every time she walks in the house.

"I'm not sure. Depends on how long the meeting takes. We have to hammer out the details on the take-over of the Tokyo office," Barbara answered.

"Will you have to go there too?" he asked sounding only half interested.

"Todd can handle that end, so I shouldn't have to go. But I'll let you know. If I do, it would be easier to fly on to Tokyo instead of coming back to the states first," she answered as she moved about clearing breakfast dishes. I wasn't paying attention anymore as I daydreamed of glimpses of Paris or Tokyo. How I've always wanted to travel the world and so hoped I'd stay in her wallet till then.

****

As Barbara rushed through the airport half running toward the gate, my anticipation grew as I jumbled around in her purse. In a few minutes I'd be on the plane flying to Paris and I couldn't wait to hear the sounds and smell the aromas of European flavor. To my dismay, however, as soon as she reached a news stand she purchased a newspaper and I was handed to a woman with jasmine hand lotion. Briefly, I inhaled the soft sent before she placed me in a register with my peers.

Waiting in the dark I could only imagine to whom I would be handed next, or where I would be going. Actually, the very next customer was an older gentleman with a strong southern drawl who had purchased some chewing gum and a USA Today newspaper. I was given to him with his change and felt his strong, callused hands, smelling slightly of aftershave, tuck me into a leather wallet. He slipped his wallet back into the breast pocket of his leather jacket and strode through the airport on his way to his next gate.

As he walked he made a cell phone call and I learned he was returning from a day trip to procure a new product for his business. I couldn't quite hear everything he was saying, but I imagined he was wearing a hat and boots because he seemed so authentically Texan as we boarded the plane for his trip home to Houston saying, "Howdy, ma'am" to the stewardess. Apparently, he wasn't carrying anything other than a briefcase, which he put in the overhead compartment then took his seat.

In the seats behind us a young couple were discussing their plans for the rest of the day once they arrived home, which included picking up the dog (Crackers) from their cousin's house and going to the grocery store. Crackers is such a fun name for a dog and I imagined it to be a scruffy, little thing with floppy ears and a coat the color of butter. Then again, it could be a huge sheep dog with a squeaky bark. Never knowing for sure, I took the position that it was an adorable, scruffy little ball of fur.

The stewardess began making preflight announcements as he settled in his seat for the final leg of his journey. Never having flown before I was anticipating the takeoff and landing with an enthusiasm I had not realized I possessed because I was flying to Texas.

Being in circulation has its benefits. No longer disappointed about eluding the chance to fly abroad, I decided to nap so as to feel refreshed when we arrived...I believe the pilot said in approximately five hours.

****

As our flight approached the airport I awoke to announcements about the weather in Houston and that we were arriving on time. "Walker, do you need anything before we land? It will be just a few more minutes," a soft feminine voice asked him as I made a mental note of his name...Walker. Nice, strong name I thought. However, I wasn't sure if it was his first, or last.

Landing smoothly, I heard the bustling of passengers readying to depart as the plane came to a stop at the gate. Ah, Texas. This was an experience I was looking forward to collecting fond memories of the places and people I was about to meet. One of the first things I noticed was the slower pace and speech patterns of folks working in the airport as Walker exited. The entire atmosphere seemed more relaxed as airport staff called out to him to 'have a good day.'

Hailing a cab outside the airport the driver asked "Where to partner?" in that slow, southern drawl I was intrigued with hearing.

"Walker Ranch," he answered as if everyone should know where it was. And apparently the cabbie did because he pulled away from the curb and sped off. The drive through the city was long, as it was peak rush hour traffic and the roads were congested. Traffic thinned out as we left the city limits on our way to the ranch.

Paying the cab driver, I ascertained he must have been on a day trip because there was a lack of luggage as Walker carried himself with huge strides toward his front door. Stepping on the wooden porch a woman burst through the screen door practically shouting, "Mista Walker, so glad you're home."

"Well now Millie, I've only been gone since sunrise," he replied warmly as he handed her his briefcase.

"I know, I know. It's just nice to have ya home," she said as she departed with his briefcase. "Vittles on the table at seven,"

"It's dinner Millie, not vittles," Walker chuckled after her.

"I know, I know," she sung over her shoulder laughing back at him.

Walker strode through the house, his boots heavy on the wooden floor, as he made his way to his favorite easy chair near the fireplace in the den. The longer he sat I could sense him relax as his breathing became heavier. Thinking he had dozed off I caught the aroma of pot roast coming from the kitchen and my mouth watered. This was what Millie called vittles. It smelled too delicious to be referred to in such a way, although it was home cooking. And if it tasted as good as it smelled she could call it anything she wanted.

Listening to the TV and daydreaming about what a day at the ranch would be like I was shaken out of my daze as Millie gently shook Walker by his shoulder to tell him dinner was ready.

"Vittles are on the table, sir."

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Be right there Millie. Jus' gonna freshen up a bit," he replied through a sleepy haze. He shook off the nap and rose out of his easy chair. Walking down the hall I noticed he had taken off his boots but his footfalls were still heavy. The effects of a long day I imagined. Washing his hands he then splashed water on his face as he looked in the mirror. "Look at you old man. Still think you're a young buck," he said wistfully to himself. "If Jamie were around, she'd tell you to slow down."

Jamie? Was that Walker's wife? What had happened to her? I suddenly realized I was full of questions. But as expected in my position, I would only learn about the lives of people I encountered if they actually talked about themselves.

****

At the dinner table I discovered his son Dillon, and daughter Dannie, which I learned later was short for Danielle, were both in their twenties and busy helping out at the ranch till the next semester of college started. "Did you get to Ferguson's today and pick up that load of feed?" Walker asked Dillon.

"Yeah, put it up in the barn this afternoon. Said there'd be another load of that special chicken feed coming in two weeks. Do you want some?" Dillon said through a mouth full of mashed potatoes.

Ignoring the question Walker spoke as if to himself, "Thinking about taking your momma's things down to the church Sunday morning and having those ladies put 'em to good use at the homeless shelter."

It was Dannie that protested first, "Daddy! No! Those are momma's things!"

"Baby girl, it's been three years. Not gettin' any use out of 'em here. And besides, I heard there was a young couple burned out of their home two days ago; lost everything. I'm sure that little gal could find something of your momma's to wear," his voice softened as he spoke.

"But daddy, what's wrong with keeping everything the way it is? It reminds me of mom this way," Danielle said as she set her glass down on the table.

"You know your mother as well as I do, and if she were still alive she'd be going through her things right now...mine and yours too...to give to that young couple. Now, that's enough about the subject. Millie will pack up your mother's clothes tomorrow," Walker said dismissing any more objections. "Pass the rolls Dillon." The subject wasn't brought up again through the rest of the meal.

After the table was cleared and everyone said their good-nights before retiring to their bedrooms, I caught myself daydreaming about life on the ranch. As Walker retired to his room I heard the muffled sounds of music playing as he readied to turn in for the night. I thought it to be only nine o'clock and wondered why the early evening. But mornings start early on a ranch, I found out.

****

Cock-a-doodle-doo! Cock-a-doodle-doo!

The Walker Ranch rooster's crowing woke me before daybreak. My sense of time, not usually too far off, told me it was only 5am. As I tried to brush the dream I was having about the circus from my mind the wallet I resided in was picked up off the night stand and shoved into the pocket of a pair of Wrangler jeans. Not surprisingly, I smelled the delicious aroma of coffee wafting up stairs from the kitchen. Millie was cooking her vittles again I presumed.

Walker bounded down the stairs and into the kitchen where a steaming cup of black coffee must have been waiting for him. He took a sip and thanked Millie on the way out the back door. "Mista Walker, what about these here eggs 'n bacon I fried?" Millie called after him.

"The kids will eat 'em, I've got to get out to the pasture and check a fence this morning," he shouted over his shoulder.

"Sun ain't even up. How ya gonna see?" Millie asked not expecting a response. She knew Walker only too well, and wild horses couldn't hold him back from something he set his mind to doing.

****

"Hey Tom, saddle up Jake for me I'm heading out to check on that fence in the north pasture," Walker spoke to someone as he entered the barn.

"Sure thing, Walker. Want me to ride with you?" Tom said as he went to get a saddle from the tack room. "I need to make sure Sammy closed the south gate."

"Well, if the gate didn't get closed last night there won't be any cattle to worry about this morning," Walker responded.

"Dillon had us move the cattle to the east slope yesterday. Said the grass was sweeter there. Don't know how he knows that; he must be chewing on some of it himself," Tom said as he chuckled. "Said he'd tell you last night at supper; didn't he mention it?"

Reflecting on the dinner conversation last night I realized Dillon hadn't said much after Walker mentioned donating his wife's clothes. The same thought must have occurred to Walker. "It must have slipped his mind," he replied. "That's fine, the east slope is better this time of year anyway. Let's go."

Riding a horse wasn't what I expected. I found it to be rather bumpy, yet as we rode toward the north pasture I heard the sounds of the ranch animals welcoming the dawn. The rooster's morning ritual faded into the background as Walker and Tom carried on a conversation about getting the sheep ready to take to market that week. "Make sure Dillon takes a head count and writes it in the log before they're loaded up," Walker was saying as Tom grunted his acknowledgement.

Apparently Walker Ranch covered a large piece of land because we rode for almost half an hour before coming to a stop where both men dismounted and walked toward the fence. "Let's walk from here," Walker said. "I want to see if the barbed wire is holding up since we fixed it last month. Don't need our bulls getting into Smitty's pastures again."

"Yeah, he's still sore you bought that stallion out from under him at the auction last year. Ain't he?" Tom chuckled.

"Not sure he'll ever get over that. He had his heart set on that horse," Walker said sounding satisfied in his decision to buy the horse. "Heck, he can barely feed the ones he's got now."

"Thinking, he thought, it would change his luck with the foals it'd bring."

"If that man had any luck to change," Walker said dismissing the subject. I was getting the impression he always had the final say. But it was his ranch, after all.

Apparently, there wasn't anything about the fence that raised concern because after an hour of walking the pair mounted their horses and headed back to the barn. "I'm heading into town when we get back. Need to pick up a part for the tractor Garrison said would be in today," Walker spoke in his smooth, southern drawl. "Take the mare out for a bit in the corral and herd them sheep in. We'll take them in the morning if it doesn't rain tonight," Walker instructed.

"Sure thing," was all Tom had to say. They rode the rest of the way in silence. Seemed to me, in the south folks just said all they needed to and nothing more.

After we returned Walker left Tom to tend to the horses as he got in his pickup truck and headed into town. The ride was long and I could tell the day was warming up. Turning on the radio I heard a commercial about the county fair starting that evening and wondered if Walker and his family were going. He didn't strike me as a man that would go to a fair, but I was hoping I was wrong.

Finally arriving he got out of the truck and strode into a hardware store saying hello to several people on his way. "Howdy, Garrison did that part come in yet?" he asked the man behind the counter.

"Yes sir, Mr. Walker; came in yesterday. I called the ranch and Dillon said you were on a buying trip again. Let me get it for you," Garrison said turning away from the counter and entering a back room. Another, thing Dillon hadn't mentioned I realized, and Walker knew it too. "Here it is. Hard to believe such a small part can stop an entire tractor, huh?" Garrison was saying as Walker reached for his wallet to pay.

"Yeah, these new tractors just don't run like the old ones," Walker replied. "What's the damage?" he asked.

"That'll be $16.47, would you like that on your tab?" Garrison asked the rancher.

"No need for that, I'll just pay for it." Walker said as he pulled me and some of my peers out of his wallet. Sadly, I knew I wasn't going to be heading back to the ranch in his pickup truck.

"Calling for rain tonight, you going to the fair?" Garrison asked. As he held us in his hand I could see the store was a small but well-kept hardware store that seemed to have everything. Shelves were neatly stacked with a little of everything. It occurred to me that this must be a small town and one of the few stores to shop for anything from toothpaste to tractor parts. How appealing.

"Nah, not since...um...no, we won't be going," Walker stammered as he picked up the part and started to turn toward the door.

"I'm sorry Walker; I forgot Sandy fell off that horse at the fair. I'm really sorry. Forget I asked, okay?" Garrison said sounding embarrassed.

"Forgotten," Walker said as he strode out the door, his face not giving away the emotion he must have been feeling.

"Well, it's gonna rain anyway!" Garrison called after him, but Walker was already getting in his truck. Placing us in the cash register I ascertained that's how Walker's wife had passed away. It must have been a riding accident.

****

As if to wash away the awkward moment the bell chimed as the door opened and I heard a woman's voice. Not able to hear what was being said I realized she must have purchased something when Garrison rang up the total. I was removed and placed in the hand of a woman in her mid-thirties. Her hands were calloused, not like the hands of a woman unfamiliar with hard work. Hard work was written in the lines on her brow. She folded me with some other bills and put us in the back pocket of her jeans.

"Are you taking the kids to the fair tonight Mary?" Garrison asked her.

"Got to get some chores done first, if the good Lord will hold off the rain, that is," Mary answered as we left the hardware store. Outside I could hear the sounds of traffic and knew folks were starting to go about the business of their lives. Mary walked down the street and turned a corner where I realized she had parked her car. We drove out of town as she listened to country music on the radio. It was the first time I had heard country music and I found it profoundly true to life.

We pulled up the drive to her small home she shared with her two boys who went by Tommy and Jimmy I learned as she got out of the car and called for them to come help bring in the groceries she had bought. Bags were rustled as the three of them made several trips from the car to the kitchen of the house. "Did you get your rooms cleaned?" Mary asked the boys.

"Aww, mom, my room doesn't need it," one of the boys protested. I only learned it was Jimmy when Mary spoke back to him.

"It always needs it. Go now, or no fair tonight," Mary retorted.

"Yeah, go clean it now," Tommy said in a teasing tone.

"Shut up, turd!" Jimmy yelled back.

"You shuddup!"

"Stop! Both of you and go clean your rooms now! And don't come out till they're clean," Mary scolded them. "I've got to clean Ms. Simpson's house this afternoon; then take some mending over to Claire. And I don't want to hear you two carrying on all day," Mary said sounding exasperated.

"Go!" she shouted.

The sound of the boys shuffling out of the kitchen was interrupted by the sound of a screen door slamming.

"Daddy! Daddy!" the boys shouted in unison as I heard Mary sigh.

"I just sent them to clean their rooms," Mary spoke to her husband as if to have him reinforce her request.

"You heard your mother boys," he said followed by the moans of his boys as they left the room. Turning to his wife he spoke more softly, "You're doing too much Mary, let me do this and you go sit down."

"I'm fine Hank, really," Mary tried to reassure him. "Besides, I have to clean Mae's house today, her son's coming with his family to go to the fair."

"Then go now and I'll take the boys to gramps so they can see the new foal," Frank said still speaking softly.

"I can't, I have chores to do here first," Mary spoke sounding frustrated.

"Make me a list. The boys and I will take care of things around here," he offered.

Mary burst out in laughter, "You and the boys are going to wash clothes, vacuum, mop the floor and mend Claire's sundress?" she asked still laughing.

"Well, maybe not the sundress. But we'll manage the rest. So off with you; we'll be fine."

"I love you," Mary said speaking softly now too, as she stood on her toes to give him a kiss on the cheek before turning to tend to her sewing. I heard Hank calling the boys to come help him as Mary walked away. Humming softly as she worked on the sundress I wondered if she would remember I was in her back pocket. However, she didn't seem to be intent on anything but her mending as I tried to determine the tune she was humming. It wasn't quite familiar to me, and I wondered if it was one of those country songs.

Some time had passed before Mary finished her sewing. After which she gathered the items she needed to clean and still humming she placed everything in her car. Not changing her clothes, as I anticipated she would, I found myself on my way to Mae's home. Arriving she went to unlock the door first before returning to the car for her cleaning supplies. The house must have been large because there was a slight echo as Mary walked across the marble floor in the foyer. Still humming Mary busied herself with dusting, so I decided to take a nap in case we went to the county fair that evening.

### CHAPTER 5

County Fair

I awoke to the voices of Jimmy and Tommy talking about what they wanted to ride at the fair. "I'm going in the 'Tower of Terror,'" Jimmy was saying.

"Who cares! I'm driving a go-cart and I'm gonna beat everyone on the track!" Tommy claimed excitedly.

"Boys, there will be plenty of time to do everything," Frank was saying and I realized I had somehow been put in his wallet. "Now get in the car so we can get going."

"Where are your jackets?" Mary asked them.

"Aww mom, it ain't cold," Tommy answered.

"Isn't. And it is supposed to be cold later tonight. Now go get your jackets and then get in the car or we'll leave without you," she said teasing. That was all the prompting the boys needed to quickly get their coats and climb in the backseat still talking excitedly about everything they wanted to do at the fair.

"Look out the window boys; can you see the Ferris wheel?" Hank said loudly over the noise of his son's conversation.

"Wow!" they said in unison.

"Okay, let's park and start having some fun!" their dad said to them over his right shoulder. "But first we'll need to buy some tickets."

"Can we park close, honey?" Mary asked.

"Feeling okay, sweetheart?" Hank's voice was soft.

"Oh yes. I was just thinking about after the fair, the walk will be shorter."

"True."

"Okay kids, help your dad find a parking place close," Hank said as he turned into the parking lot at the fairgrounds.

"Hey dad, there's one in the front row!" Jimmy was shouting from the backseat.

"Well, how did we get so lucky?" Hank said to himself as he pulled into the parking space. Everyone exited the car and started the short walk to the ticket booth. Although, I wasn't used to purchase tickets I knew I wouldn't last long in his wallet at the fair. I could already hear sounds of excitement from young children as they tried to take in all the sights, sounds and smells at once. There were gasps from little boys, squeals from little girls and laughter from their parents. Oh, I so hoped Mary and her family would have a grand time.

"I wanna ride go-carts first!" Tommy said.

"No, I wanna play games!" Jimmy interjected.

"There will be plenty of time for everything, boys. Let's see what your mom wants to do," Hank was saying as he looked around for Mary.

"Mary...Mary...?" Hank sounded puzzled and it occurred to me that I hadn't heard her say anything for about ten minutes.

"Over there dad!" one of the boys shouted, but I couldn't tell who spoke. "Mom's sitting on that bench." Hearing hurried footsteps I realized Hank was rushing to Mary's side.

"Mary, are you alright?" Hank's voice was soft again and full of love. "Do I need to take you home, darling?"

"Yes...I mean, no. I'm fine, really," Mary said to her husband. "I just had a long day doing extra cleaning for Mae. I'll be fine. Go on and take the boys to play games. I just need to sit for a minute."

"Are you sure? Cause we can comeback another night," Hank offered. "The fair will be here for a week."

"No, no, don't disappoint the boys. I'll be fine, go," Mary was insisting. I could feel Hank hesitate. When he spoke it was almost a whisper so the boys wouldn't hear his concern.

"Is it your heart again, Mary?" love accenting his every syllable.

"Long day, I just need to rest for a bit. Take the boys; they have been waiting for this all month. Now shoo." Mary was insisting harder this time.

Reluctantly, Hank turned toward the boys and explained, "Mom's going to wait here for bit. Let's go play some games first; then we'll come back and pick her up before we ride rides."

"Mom?" Jimmy spoke as softly as his father.

"I'm fine Jim-bo. Go with your dad," Mary said trying to reassure the boy by using his nickname. The boys hesitated at first; then left their mom sitting on the bench.

"Come on buck-a-roos, your ol' man is about to smear you like grease," Hank said loudly as he laughed. "I see a game right now I'm gonna beat you both at!" Apparently, the threat of competition was all the brothers needed to spur them into action. In a burst of activity the boys were running ahead of their father in the direction he was looking.

"No way, I'm gonna win!" Tommy hollered.

"I'm first!" Jimmy called out.

"No! I'm first! I'm five minutes older than you," Tommy protested. Ah, they are twins...explains the closeness in their voices as I've struggled to decipher which one was speaking at times.

"Jimmy called it first Tommy; you'll have to wait your turn. Which won't be long once I butter his toast," Hank said laughing as he teased the boys. Reaching for his wallet to pay the three-dollars-for-five-throws price I was handed to a young boy calling out the game rules.

"Knock all the milk bottles over and win a prizzzze!" I hoped the boys had a chance at winning this game. I'd overheard someone in the crowd stating these types of games required a certain level of skill, which I was hoped the twins possessed. As the caller held me briefly in his hand I could see huge stuffed animals lining the brightly colored booth. People were walking by the booth, yet some paused to watch the friendly competition between Hank and his sons.

"MOM!" Tommy suddenly shrieked as he took off running. I was still in the caller's hand and saw a crowding gathering around where Mary must have been sitting. Trying to strain to see, but I couldn't. There were too many people between where we were standing in front of the booth and where Mary had been sitting. Hank and Jimmy ran after Tommy, but I still couldn't see what was going on. I sure wish she was all right.

Suddenly I was thrust into the boy's money apron as he kept calling the game rules, "Right up, come right up! Knock three milk bottles over and win a prizzzze!" he hollered seemingly oblivious to the commotion happening a few yards away. Sadly, I would never know the outcome of events; such was the way it is in my position. I am here to serve only, I just can't help wanting to know about the people's lives whose path I cross. I find people to be so interesting.

Just as I was reminiscing about some of the lives I had touched, I realized the young man had reached in his pouch to make change and I was handed to a teenage boy with curly red hair and freckles. He was standing with a group of friends and they were sizing up the game and urging him on to knock down the milk bottles. Before he stuffed me in his front pocket I caught sight of a rather shy looking golden haired girl standing in the back of the group. She was smiling sweetly and eagerly looking over the red head's shoulder.

"Willie, you ain't gonna knock 'em down," one of his friends teased.

"Sure he can!" replied a girl's voice. "He's the best pitcher the Coyotes ever seen!" she went on to say in a deep southern drawl.

"He ain't neither. Joe's brother was the best," the male teenager responded and it sounded like scuffling between the boys over that comment. Then laughter as the horse play quieted down while Willie got in position to throw the first ball. Wham! I heard it hit the back drop and knew he had missed. His friends were really egging him on now, saying he threw like a girl. Wham! Another miss, I just knew his face was probably as red as his hair by now.

"Come on, Willie. You can do it," a soft spoken voice said, barely audible over the teasing of his friends. She must be special to Willie because I could feel his confidence rise as he straighten his back, arched his shoulder back, and then followed through with the pitch. "BAM!" The milk bottles exploded as the ball found its target to the simultaneously cheers from his friends. Willie was jostled around as his friends hugged him and patted him on the back.

"WE HAVE A WINNER!" the caller shouted, then to Willie "Pick your prize sir. Anything on that wall is yours." Willie turned and I could only imagine he spoke to the girl with golden curls.

"What would you like Sarah? Pick anything," he said to her. His friends teasing sounds stopped and I heard the shuffling of feet as they made way for Sarah to get a closer look at the stuffed animals in the booth.

"I really don't need anything Willie," her soft voice trembled as she spoke.

"Maybe you could give it to your little sister then," Willie responded. "Pick one out for her. I'm sure it would make her happy now that she's on crutches," Little sister? On crutches? Goodness, people's lives are complicated. Now I wanted to know what happened to her sister, but I'd probably be spent on a soda or another game first.

"That's a good idea. Hmm...I'll...take...that one!" she said as she found the perfect stuffed animal for her sister.

"Here you are little lady," the boy tending the booth said as he handed her the prize. Just then one of the teenagers suggested they try throwing darts next and we were off in that direction. Along the way, however, Willie asked Sarah if she'd like a snow cone to which she coyly answered "Yes." Ah, young love...puppy love I believe it's called. Temporarily lost in thought I hadn't realized Willie pulled a wad of bills out of his pocket, of which I was one. Being handed to a young woman in the concession stand I saw that Sarah had chosen a pink stuffed teddy bear holding a flower between his fluffy arms. A gift truly fitting for a young child on crutches, I bemused as I was placed in a cash drawer waiting to be passed along to the next patron.

Somehow I managed to stay in the drawer through several customers as I heard them order funnel cakes, which sounded utterly delicious. Then someone ordered deep fried Oreos and I wondered why someone would even think to fry such a delicacy as a simple cookie. Apparently, this concession stand sold a variety of tasty treats because the number of fair-goers seeking refreshments seemed endless. Eventually, I was handed to an elderly gentleman. I'd venture to say he was in his late seventies. But then again, I wasn't even a year old, yet looked like I was ten. Age really is an elusive number. I've overheard the saying once, "You're as young as you feel." Nice way to put it, I thought.

"Grampa, I wanna ride a pony!" came the squeal of a young boy. "Lez find da ponies, Grampa," he insisted with extreme exuberance. I guessed him to be only three or four as his pronunciation of each syllable wasn't perfected yet. And, of course, I caught a glimpse of him and his small stature, straight black hair and huge blue eyes shining with so much excitement, it struck me as one of the many joys of watching a child grow up.

"Sure Marshall, sure...you can ride a pony. Let me just figure out... Now where did your Nana go?" his grandfather was saying as he scanned the crowd. Still holding me in his hand, I realized the crowd had increased with the setting of the sun. One could hardly see the pavement anymore because so many people were walking in slow procession; moving as if they were all the same body, except for the ones who had stopped to try their luck at a game. Every booth was brightly lit as was the concession booth where he was still standing. And every booth had a small gathering of people in front of it.

"Excuse me," someone spoke to him so she could get to the window.

"Oh, I'm sorry little gal. I was looking for someone," he said as he moved from in front of the concession stand window. "Come on, Marshall, hold my hand...Nana couldn't have gotten too far away from us handsome gents," he said as the little boy giggled. The older gentlemen neatly folded my peers and me and placed us in his shirt pocket.

"There she is!" exclaimed Marshall.

"Well, butter my biscuits. You're right as rain," he responded.

"Lucy, where have you been buttercup? I took the little tyke to get a snow cone and thought you'd run away with the lion tamer," he said in a teasing tone as I heard him kiss her on the cheek.

"Oh Ted, you ol' tease you. There isn't a lion tamer at the county fair," Lucy said laughing. What a great pair they are, I thought.

"And it's a good thing too, otherwise, the Marshall and I would have to round up a posse of ponies and come after ya," he joked as she laughed and patted him lovingly right on the pocket I was in. Sigh...a lifetime of love...I was really beginning to see the benefits of being human.

"I wanna ride a pony," Marshall sung out as soon as he heard his grandfather mention it.

"Lucy, my love, have you seen any ponies around these here parts," Ted cooed at her.

"Why yes, brave cowboy. I do believe I saw a magnificent heard of ponies in yonder direction," she replied in the same expressive manner.

"Where? Where?" Marshall asked eagerly as he jumped up and down. Still holding his grandfather's hand, I was being jostled around in his breast pocket. Walking toward the ponies I heard a loud 'whack' followed by the ring of a bell, which was quickly followed by cheers and clapping. Another game enjoyed by everyone.

As we walked I could sense the crowd's excitement. Cheers and laughter reverberated off the rides and game booths only to be amplified by the density of the crowd. "Ponies!" Marshall demanded as he started to tug on his grampa's arm.

"Now just hold on a minute, whipper snapper. Those ponies will be there when we get there," Ted replied as he stooped to pick up his grandson and carry him the rest of the way. I could smell we had arrived at the ponies rides by the hint of hay in the air. Well, yes, of course, there were other smells too. But I definitely caught a whiff of hay.

"You have to wait your turn Marshall. Come over here and stand in line," Lucy spoke as Ted set him down.

"But I want to see the ponies!" he whined.

"You can see then just fine while waiting in line. Besides, if you're not in line you won't be able to ride one. Now listen to your Nana," his grandfather's voice was just stern enough the boy didn't protest this time. "That's a good cowboy," Ted said, then to his wife, "Best get the camera out so's we can get some pictures for Matt."

"Already thought of that, dear," Lucy replied. Oh, how I wish I could see the look on Marshall's when he rode the pony. I wondered what color the ponies were. This was so exciting I could hardly contain myself while we waited. Finally, it was Marshall's turn to ride one of the ponies around the small makeshift corral and he was squealing with enthusiasm.

"Let that man put you on a pony, Marshall," Ted was instructing the boy.

I could feel pride swelling up in him as Marshall hollered, "Yee haw!" I assumed he was on the pony now and eagerly waiting to be taken on a ride around the small corral.

"Dear, will you bring me a soda?" Lucy was asking Ted as Marshall continued to express his excitement with a continuous stream of 'yee-haws.' Goodness, he was having a great time for a young fellow.

"Of course, love of my life," he said with a kiss on the cheek before he turned to find a vendor selling drinks. He didn't have to walk far before I heard him ordering a Dr. Pepper for Lucy.

"That will be three dollars," an older woman was saying. Three dollars! Imagine just how much money would be spent at this county fair. Just buying a few soft drinks could add up. Suddenly, as I was calculating math equations in my head, I realized Ted had taken me out of his breast pocket and handed me to the cashier when I felt the cool night air. Frantically, I looked around while I had a chance hoping to spot Marshall on a pony. And there he was! There are no words to express the look of pure joy on the child's face as Lucy captured the moment with her camera. This would be a memory I would file away for a long time. Just as quickly as I witnessed Marshall having fun I was placed in the vendor's apron pocket to yet again be handed to someone else; t'was a great county fair indeed.

The next person I was handed to spoke with a foreign accent. However, I soon learned she and her family were leaving the fair to eat dinner at a restaurant. Considering the price of a soda, I didn't blame them. Sad, that I would be leaving the fair so soon, I realized it was later than I thought and certainly past dinner time for most folks. Therefore, I simply wondered where we were going to dine.

It took a while to walk out of the fairgrounds to their car. But once we were on the way it seemed a short drive to arrive at the restaurant. They had unanimously decided on Chinese, even though I learned they were from Italy and visiting cousins in the United States. As everyone exited the car I caught a whiff of enticing aromas. Upon entering the restaurant my nostrils were filled with several mouth-watering smells at once. It was then I discovered we were at a buffet and all the food was available for patrons to serve themselves. What a wonderful concept. A person could confront a serving dish and take however much, of whatever, they wanted for a set price. Extraordinary!

Upon entering the establishment everyone was seated in a booth and their drink orders were taken. "I'll be right back with your drinks, please help yourself," the waitress said as they got up to visit the buffet and select their dinner items of choice. There seemed to be a lot of choices by the mixture of aromas. I was tucked inside a small change purse hanging on the jeans of the girl I was handed to at the fair; making me close enough to the serving stations to detect garlic and teriyaki sauce, which were unmistakably delicious smelling. Actually, there were so many aromas mixed together, it was a dizzying quantity of appealing edibles.

Reseating themselves the conversation covered many topics. But with several of them talking at once, I found it hard to stay on the course of a particular topic. So instead I focused on the young girl who carried me in her purse. She was talking to a teenage boy about the fair and how much fun the "Tower of Terror" had been. That was what Jimmy had wanted to see, which reminded me of Mary. Sigh...I hoped she was all right. But there didn't seem to be any further commotion after they ran off to see about her, so I took a positive stance and decided she was just fine.

The young girl's name was Sophia. She would be starting college soon in Texas and came to visit with her family. They wanted see where she would be living on campus. Her father's cousin lived in town and they had stopped by to visit before they had to return home to Italy. Sophia would obviously be staying behind. She had never been so far away from home before and sounded anxious about her family leaving in a few days.

"So-so, you no hafta stay. You come back wit us," a man with a heavy accent was saying. I assumed it was her father and was right when Sophia responded with nervous laughter.

"Ah papa, you know I can't do that," she said sounding brave. "I want to be a veterinarian. I have to stay and go to school, so I can tend to sick animals," Sophia said.

"I haf sick cat at home, you come care for it," her father said trying to sound demanding.

"Oh papa, Felice isn't sick. He's just old...like you!" she said, which created an outburst of laughter.

"Then you come take care me!" he said to even more laughter. That's when I realized I hadn't heard an older woman's voice and wondered where Sophia's mother was.

"Mama does that, papa," she responded.

"Your mama make me fat. She feed me too well," her father said to an uproar of laughter again. After that the dialogue returned to Sophia's studies and what classes she would be taking. How much she liked her dorm room and if she needed to buy anything else before they left.

She assured everyone she had everything she needed. As they finished and readied to leave her father was asking whether to leave a tip since it was a buffet.

"We should leave something," their American companion was saying. Sophia piped up and said she had some American dollars and pulled me out of her purse before anyone could protest. As she set me and two of my peers on the table I glimpsed the soft features of her face framed by her long black hair. She was very petite, slender and wore a simple pale rose sundress with a blue sweater. She would make a very dainty veterinarian, I thought.

Her father admonished her for spending her money, to which she shushed him promptly as they both laughed. He was a robust man with a gentle demeanor and adored his daughter immensely. Yet, his eyes held the sadness he felt leaving her in a few days. The teenage boy was the spitting image of his father and a likable young fellow. A little on the quite side, but the evening had centered on Sophia's upcoming college activities. The American was dressed in a blue western shirt and younger than I thought. Perhaps, he was the son of the cousin. I couldn't be certain, not having spent more time with them. But it was a privilege to serve them and share part of their lives, if only for dinner.

### CHAPTER 6

### Flea Market

The waitress who picked me up shoved me in her apron pocket where I stayed until her shift ended. She then emptied her tips onto a table to tally the day's gratuitous earnings. After which she wrote her total on a sheet and put my peers and I in a white envelope for the head waitress to divvy out between all the wait staff working that day. I wasn't convinced the system seemed fair at first. However, it occurred to me that it was a buffet, after all, and the wait staff really just served the drinks. Therefore, I supposed it sounded reasonable for everyone to share the daily tip earnings.

By the end of the night I wasn't returned to the waitress who had served our drinks. Instead, I was given to a pimpled face young lad who seemed eager to earn his daily gratuity. Overhearing him talk to a co-worker I learned he was off the next day, a Saturday, and was very excited because he had been working every Saturday for the past five weeks. Apparently, he had very big plans for the next day...he was going to a huge flea market somewhere near Pasadena. Well, butter my biscuits as Ted would say, I was going to a flea market. And I couldn't wait. As was my duty to serve, it occurred to me that I may have the opportunity to serve numerous people. Ah, the excitement was almost too much. But first this young lad had to return home.

As he exited the restaurant I realized he was hanging around outside the front door. Egads, he was too young to drive, or at least own his own car. As I wondered who would pick him up an old, pale yellow Cutlass pulled up beside him. "Hi mom, where's dad?" the young man inquired.

"Frankie, you know your dad plays cards on Friday nights. Get in, the traffic is horrible because of the fair," his mother responded sounding tired. Apparently, his father usually came to pick him up.

"You just get off work?" Frankie asked.

"Yes, and after twelve hours I'm exhausted. Let's just get home so I can go to bed," his mother said softer as she concentrated on pulling out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

"Man, traffic is backed up. I ain't ev'r seen it like this," Frankie said rather concerned.

"Yeah, well you've never been out at night till you got this job," his mother pointed out. "I just worry about you driving at night in all this traffic when you get your license. So much traffic..."

"Next June, and I can't wait!"

"Uh-huh," his mother said as the car suddenly sped forward and I knew we had entered the flow of traffic. Frankie talked endlessly about his customers at the restaurant that day. He told story after story about how some of them were rude, while others were really nice and left big tips. He talked about the food and how he was asked more than once to carry out an item for the buffet. The more he shared about his day the more I realized his mother didn't usually pick him up. As a matter of fact, he mentioned his friend Earl would be coming back from vacation and would be able to give him rides again; until he got his license, in June, of course. Frankie seemed to have an endless supply of conversation in him as I noticed the volume on the car radio increased a few notches, however, Frankie never noticed as he continued to chatter about his day. I tried to listen but found the radio tugging at my attention. Thankfully, it wasn't a long drive home.

Arriving, Frankie jumped out of the car and ran into the house. I could hear his mother call but he had already taken the stairs two at a time to reach the second floor where he strode down the hallway to his room. He entered and shut the door. I assumed he was going to ready for bed. Instead, he grabbed the phone on his night stand and made a call. I could barely hear a female voice answer as Frankie quickly explained that he had the next day off work and did she want to come to the Crossroads Flea Market with him. She giggled at his invitation, but indeed, accepted. The young lad was beside himself and they made plans to meet at the mall in the morning and leave from there. After he hung up he put on his headphones and dozed off. I followed suit and fell fast asleep. It had been an eventful day.

****

Bright and early I heard the house waking up as the aroma of coffee filled the air. Frankie's mother knocked softly on his door and asked him if he wanted eggs and bacon for breakfast. Moaning an undeterminable response, his mother also reminded him that he was supposed to go to the flea market with Savannah. That got his motor running as he sat straight up in bed shaking the sleep from behind his eyes. Realizing he'd slept in his clothes he got off the bed and threw his clothes, including the jeans I was in, on the floor. I could hear him searching his dresser and closet for something to wear. Sounding frustrated, he called out to him mother to ask about the whereabouts of his favorite pair of Lees. It wasn't possible to discern what she said but he seemed to be thrilled to discover them. Then he walked into the bathroom for a shower.

After which, he picked up the jeans I was in and pulled out his wallet and a wad of bills from the front pocket. I was in the wad of bills. He counted out about half and shoved them in his wallet, leaving me and a small stack of my peers on his dresser. "Oh, no! I want to go to the flea market!" I shouted. Of course, he couldn't have known that as I watched him exit through his bedroom door. Only to return a few minutes later and grab the rest of us off the dresser. Whew! I must say I appreciated his change of heart; I was going to the flea market after all.

Frankie lived close to the mall where he had agreed to meet Savannah, and planned on walking that morning. His father asked him if he wanted a ride, but he declined saying he'd walk. It was a brisk morning, evidently it had rained the night before and even I could feel the dampness in the air. The neighborhood he lived in was quiet; therefore, as the morning traffic increased I ascertained we were approaching our destination. He must have reached a major intersection because I felt him stop, then sprint across the road. On the other side a horn honked and he was off in that direction. Either the flea market was a distance to drive, or these two teenagers wanted to get an early start. "Hey, have you been waiting long?" he asked as he climbed in the passenger side.

"I just got here and saw you running across Elm Street," she spoke with a giggle. "Josh and Tami are going to be at Mickey D's at eight. Not sure if Terry and Dallas are coming. Did you ask Mike if he was coming?" Savannah said in one breath filling him in on the details of who was coming. Wasn't sure why a group of teenagers wanted to hang out at a flea market, but I was about to find out.

"Nah, had to close. Didn't get a chance to talk to anyone...except you," Frankie replied as Savannah giggled. "Could sure use a huge cup of wake-me-up juice though; I know that!" he said rather comically as she giggled even more at his antics. The rest of the drive was filled with banter about their activities of yesterday, their plans for the rest of today, and when they had to be home. Savannah had her mom's car and had to be home by two o'clock.

"Can't you call her and tell her you'll be late," Frankie was protesting.

"I can't, I promised. I'm sorry; I know it screws up plans. But maybe she can bring me back and I can catch a ride home with Josh and Tami," Savannah explained.

"Yeah, maybe..." Frankie said his voice trailing off. We must have arrived that the McDonald's, Mickey D, as the teenagers called it because Frankie was putting down the window to yell at someone.

"Hey ugly, they gonna let you in here!"

"Only after the retarded enter. After you dragon breath," his friend retorted as Frankie climbed out of Savannah's mother's car. Dragon breath...really? Did teenagers speak to each other this way? This would certainly be an interesting bit of servitude as I am bound by my existence.

Everyone was talking at once as Josh and Tami led the way into the restaurant. After ordering enough for six, everyone sat in a booth to devour their morning staples before the start of what would prove to be, I was confident, a stimulating day. As I inhaled deeply the aroma of an egg and bacon McMuffin and Hash Browns, my mouth watered for a taste of Cinnamon Melts, I could only imagine, dripping with sugary icing.

Catching only bits and pieces of conversation, because all four teenagers talked at once, I believe, Savannah asked Frankie for a packet of ketchup, while Josh tried to sneak a bite of Tami's Cinnamon Melt to which she dramatized a major protest. I have to admit, even with all the talking over each other the excitement about the day was building. Clearly, I was feeling quite exhilarated myself and it was only breakfast.

After leaving McDonalds on the way to the flea market I learned about the arcade where they were going to meet another group of friends. Evidently, they were expecting to be meeting a larger group. Explains their excitement, since teenagers seem to come and go in packs. There is the occasional loner, but for the most part, teens are very social beings. Egads! How would I discern the conversations of over a dozen of them talking at once? There was enough difficulty with only four.

****

Upon arriving at the flea market, Josh, who was driving spent some time maneuvering through the gravel parking lot before finding a spot a short walking distance to the arcade. Everyone seemed to get out of the car at once as soon as it stopped. The endless talking all at once showed no sign of ending until Josh hollered, "There's Billy. Hey, Billy!"

"Come on you turtles, let's catch up to them," he called out to the others as it appeared he had taken off in the direction of their friends.

"Wait for meeee...," Tami called after him as I heard her footfalls running in his direction.

"In a hurry?" Frankie asked Savannah.

"Not really," she replied.

"Then come on," he said laughing and grabbing her hand to tug her in the direction of the arcade.

"Hey," she said giggling as she came up beside him matching his gait.

"Where is everyone else?" a boy spoke that I couldn't yet identify. It must have been Billy.

"Probably inside already," Frankie answered. "We grabbed breakfast; they were just gonna meet us. They're probably at the pin balls."

As everyone walked through the arcade door suddenly, the atmosphere was charged with electricity. Bells were ringing on machines; laughter filled the air, as some teenagers shouted greetings across the room to friends. Electronic voices were coming from machines demanding a showdown. My head was spinning from computerized noise overload. Quite honestly, I didn't know how teenagers could handle the bombardment of stimuli. Feeling queasy myself, I hoped Frankie would have a change of heart and want to walk around the flea market. But he seemed intent on making his way to the pin ball machines to beat his last high score. "Come on Savannah, let's see how much damage I can do to Metallica," Frankie said excitedly as we walked off and left the others discussing which games they were going to play first. Surprisingly, once inside the arcade the teenagers scattered.

"Do you want anything to drink?" he asked Savannah.

"I'll take a water," she replied. "Do you want anything?"

"Nah, not right now. Come on," Frankie said as he took her hand and led her seemingly out of the arcade area to the concession stand where he ordered her a bottled water. I ascertained we left the amusement area because the noise level decreased dramatically.

"Three dollars," the older gentleman behind the counter said as Frankie reached in his pocket and took me out with two others and paid. I found myself grateful I wasn't returning to the room with all the confusion of electronic bells, because I was hoping to be able to be of service at the flea market. And that opportunity came immediately as I was handed back as change to the very next customer and got a strong whiff of cigarette smoke on her fingers.

Evidently, the flea market had a service area which contained the arcade, food court and restrooms. I only surmised this when the older woman who put me in her fanny pack, which reeked of stale cigarettes, walked from the concession stand into the ladies room to relieve herself. "Are you in line?" she asked someone already in the restroom.

"No, I'm waiting on my daughter," came the reply.

Once she finished and washed her hands she joined her husband who had been waiting outside for her. "Here's your tea," he spoke as she walked up. Taking her tea, they proceeded to walk out of the building and into the warming day.

"It's already getting hot Donald," she grumbled. "Don't make me stay out in this heat all day."

"I just want to look for some tools Ethel," he responded. "Didn't ya want some of d'em mater plants?"

"Lord no, it's too late in the season," she answered. "But I wanna see if anyone's got trumpets." Assuming she meant angel trumpet flowering plants, I could feel my anticipation rising as they walked outside and into the first row of the vendor area. Trying to capture conversations as we went I overheard two men discussing the price of a screen door. One was making a point of all the work they'd have to do before he could hang it. While the seller was emphasizing the fact that it was over fifty years old and the defects just added to its character. Yes, this was already proving to be a stimulating day.

As the elderly couple kept walking I heard a mother telling her young son he couldn't have the toy gun he was playing with, as he wailed he protest. Then I heard someone shouting the name "Jarrett" as we walked past them, but apparently he couldn't hear his name over the low rumble of steady conversations going on all around us. One vendor was boldly shouting into the crowd, "The original Ginsu knives. You won't find a better deal anywhere! Get a whole set for only fifty dollars."

Obviously, Donald and Ethel weren't interested and walked on. "Look Don...plants over there!" Ethel said sounding excited for the first time since I came into contact with her. Donald mumbled a response but then I heard Ethel ask if they had any angle trumpets. My knowledge, limited to my exposure to conversation and fleeting sightings, I had been right in determining which species of flower she was seeking.

"White, pink; ten dollar each," a female voice answered her in a strange accent.

"You don't have purple?" Ethel inquired thoughtfully.

"White, pink," the strange accent said. I couldn't even tell if they were male or female.

"No, I want purple," she said disappointed. "Alright Don, let's find your tools and then get me out of this heat."

"Don?" Ethel said as she spun around. Apparently, something had caught her husband's eye and he had wandered across the aisle to look at it.

"Over here," he called out from her left. Ethel walked in his direction, but didn't seem to pleased he'd left her to look at plants by herself.

"Why'd you wander off? I was deciding on plants." Ethel scolded him.

"You didn't want d'em cullers anyhow," he said dismissing her. "How much you want for d'is here nail hammer?" he asked the vendor.

"Gotta have thirty-five for it, partner," a young man answered.

"Hmm, it's not in the best shape," Donald said seeming to examine the hammer.

"That's my bottom price, can't go no lower."

"Hmm...alright, let me see what I got," Donald said. "Ethel you got two ones in dat fanny purse of yours?"

"Like you need another hammer Donald," she said clearly frustrated. I just hoped she offered me to the vendor. The tension between these two was getting thick. Luckily, I was extracted from the foul smelling pouch and handed to Donald; whose hands smelt of smoke worse than Ethel's; in that instant, however, I saw his weather worn face prickly with a white beard. His small eyes were almost closed because his heavy lids were a cascade of wrinkles. And when he spoke I didn't see but a few teeth. I was relieved to have been of service and passed on.

"Thank ya," the man said and folded me into a large wad of bills and put me in his pocket. At least I could breathe again.

His next customer was trying to talk him down on a piece of glassware. "Ma'am that's a Hull piece...twenty-five is the best I can do." She must have decided to buy it because I was given to her with four of my peers. Her hands were dry, but soft as she put me in her wallet. But not before I glimpsed the halo of soft red curls around her face. She wore dark sunglasses and pink lipstick; which matched her bright pink flowered shirt. Her pants were a shade of lime green, which actually was flattering on her slim figure. She was colorful, I must say.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said as I glanced his way his booth held all types of oddities. Signs so rusted you could barely read them. Strange looking machines, which must have been used around the turn of the twentieth century, were placed about his space. There were two animal skulls sitting on top of an old cupboard. And, of course, a table with various glassware from which the woman must have chosen the vase she purchased.

"Thank you. Momma is going to love it. It's for her birthday," she said smiling a bright pink smile. Then turning to speak to her little boy she said, "Don't you think Mimi will love it, Matt?

"I guess so," her son said disinterested in the item his mother just bought. "Can we look for a fire truck now?" he asked hopefully.

"Okay, just don't walk away," she told him. "It's really getting crowded." He mumbled something about a hoping the fire truck would have a ladder on it. We didn't walk very far when I heard the little boy squeal.

"Fire truck, mama. Look! Fire truck!" he said as he ran ahead.

She ran after him shouting, "Matthew, I told you to stay with me."

"Momma, it's just like what I wanted. Look!" he said. "Can I have it, pleasssse?" he pleaded.

"Well, that sure is a nice looking truck. Let me see it?" she asked him as he handed it to her to examine. "Doesn't seem to be broken," she said carefully checking it over.

"It isn't," said a young girl's voice.

"Oh, okay," she said surprised the child had spoken. "How much are you asking?"

"Seven dollars."

"Will you take six for it, sweetie?" Matthew's mother asked her.

"Daaad! Can I sell Jack's truck for six dollars?" the girl called out to her father.

"Well now, he seems like a nice enough fireman," a deep voice with a pronounced southern drawl answered. "Are you going to take good care of it, son?" he asked Matt.

"Yes sir!" Matt answered enthusiastically.

"Well then, I suppose you can have this Fast Lane Fire Truck for six dollars."

"Oh, boy!" Matt hollered. He seemed only about five years old but his excitement was contagious.

"Thank you. I only had six dollars left and he was hoping to find a fire truck today," his mother explained. "His father was in an accident recently and he's a fireman. Matt's been wanting his own fire truck ever since."

"I'm real sorry to hear that, miss," the male voice softened as he spoke. "Will he be alright?"

"He'll be coming home from the hospital Monday," she said handing the fire truck back to her son who squealed with joy again. Then she got out her wallet and handed me to the man with the deep voice. He was tall, with white hair and a friendly smile. Dressed in jeans, a button up shirt, cowboy boots and cowboy hat I imagined he had lived in Texas his entire life. "Thank you very much. You've made a little boy very happy."

"Not a problem ma'am, got five of my own," he responded. "And thank you. Have a good day," he told her. And to Matthew he said, "Remember, you promised to take good care of it."

"Oh, I will!"

Before he put me in his pocket I caught a glimpse of Matt and his shiny red fire truck and it did have a long white ladder on top that looked like it folded out. His face was lit up with delight. I was filled with pleasure to bring such happiness to a young boy's heart as they walked away.

Glancing around, I saw the booth was filled with toys for boys and girls. He must be selling his children's old toys to bring enjoyment to new boys and girls.

"How much is this dollhouse?" a little girl asked.

"For you china doll, only twenty dollars."

"Daddy, can I have it please?" the little girl was asking as she tugged on her daddy's shirt. Children are such a joy, so unencumbered by the circumstances that plague so many adults.

The cowboy vendor hadn't put me in his pocket yet so I could see the little girl's purple sundress and a head full of bouncy chestnut colored curls. "Now Sam, don't you think this dollhouse is too big for your bedroom?" her father asked her. Sam, I assumed was short for Samantha, scrunched her nose and looked quizzically at the object of her desire.

"No daddy, it's perfect!" Sam squealed with the satisfaction that she had sized it up correctly. Then she moved closed to peer in all the windows. Seeing the happiness the dollhouse would bring his daughter, her father handed the father of five a twenty dollar bill. He placed it on the back of the wad of bills he still had in his hand and then folded it and put us in his pocket. They exchanged thank yous as the father and young daughter walked away.

The flea market was getting busier. I scanned the aisle while being held in the cowboy's hand. Getting the impression this was a very large flea market, indeed. As I was trying to determine the actual layout based on what I was able to gather by my glimpses thus far, I'd venture a guess and say the flea market was...

"I need three dollars," his daughter spoke interrupting my calculations. "I just sold Sarah's sequined purse for seven and she gave me this ten."

Pulling us back out of his pocket, he handed me and two of my peers to her. Smelling the aroma of chocolate on her small, delicate hands I looked up to see a serious, yet freckled face girl of about thirteen. Handing me over to a young woman in her early twenties with a very professional 'thank you' I surmised she must help her father at the flea market quite a bit. She was a pro at customer service.

The extremely tan young woman had a rose tattooed on her right shoulder and a diamond nose piercing. She wore what appeared to be three different colored tank tops at once, cut off shorts, a turquoise cowboy hat and flip flops with a bright yellow flower on top of her tanned toes. A very bold, yet creative look, indeed. I'm happy to serve, but I also enjoy people watching when the chance presents itself. However, my people watching was cut short when she tossed us in the sequined purse, snapped it shut and flung it onto her shoulder.

As she walked the sequins clicked together making a soft tinkling sound. It was rather soothing and rhythmic as the small metal sequins swished back and forth with her stride. It was almost hypnotic when the soft tinkling suddenly stopped. Obviously, something had caught her eye. "Do you have toe rings?" she asked.

Toe rings! I know it's my job to serve, but toe rings! Really? I was secretly hoping they would say no. But apparently they had some, or at least one, and she was either looking or trying it on because she put the purse I was in on a table and I inhaled the faint smell of ammonia. Must be a jewelry vendor, I thought. If memory serves, ammonia is supposed to be great for cleaning jewelry. Suddenly, I heard music and realized rose tattoo's cell phone was ringing, but what was that song? I know I've heard it before...but what was it...it was on the tip of my tongue, but I just couldn't reme...

"Yeah," she said abruptly.

"Hey, babe."

"No, I'm not at Rita's yet. I stopped by the flea market."

"Right now I'm looking a toe rings," she said into the phone, then apparently to the vendor, "How much?"

"One dollar," a muffled voice answered.

"Yeah, we're supposed to go to the lake today. Unless Todd didn't get his dad's boat," her voice trailed off as she listened. "Well, have you heard from Mel then? She was bringing Cindy and the..." She started talking rapidly about the day's events that were supposed to be happening later that afternoon. Suddenly, she said, "Crap, where did I put those ones?"

"Man, that's right," she said as she opened the purse and blindly stuck her hand in searching for one of us. "Not me, not me, I don't want to purchase a toe ring!" I said clinging to the inside lining of the purse. Sigh. Pulling me out I was handed over a jewelry case containing dozens of rings, watches and I even caught sight of small, decorative, silver spoons. A gentleman reached out his short, stubby hand and I could see he had on a white t-shirt and red suspenders. Yes, I had just purchased a toe ring. I will never speak of this again.

****

During a quite spell in the jewelers banking pouch, I reminisced about the events of the morning as another customer came up and purchased a charm bracelet. However, I remained in the pouch, which smelled of butterscotch candy. Finally, I was handed to a young man who had bought a novelty lighter with a bullet hole design. Just then a petite young girl in jeans and yellow t-shirt with a butterfly on it walked up.

"Wha'd ya git?" she said smiling.

"A lighter for Ben?" the young man answered as he put me and the lighter in his pocket. It wasn't long till I learned they had just returned from their honeymoon at the beach and were looking for items to decorate their new apartment. I hadn't been to the beach yet, but I was sure it was probably in my future to be of service to someone who would be spending some time there...perhaps on vacation. I would love to see the ocean and smell the salty air. I could only imagine the foliage of palms and oleander, vastly different from the pines and oak trees I had been catching glimpses of in my travels; and now cactus in Texas. My daydreaming was interrupted when I heard the young woman exclaim, "Oh look, Johnny! Wouldn't this look good in the living room?" and I realized they had left the jeweler and walked further down the aisle.

"Where?"

"Right beside the couch, on the side by the hallway," she answered. "You know that big empty spot where we were going to put an end table? Well...if we got a coffee table instead and put this ficus tree there....what do you think?"

"Is that what that is?" he asked.

"Yes, it's a silk ficus. And it's in really good shape. Look how full it is. I could string some flowers through it. Or, maybe those little white lights. It will be beautiful!" she was saying, sounding thrilled with the fake tree already.

"Well, I don't know about flowers," Johnny was saying pretending to be stern, but I could hear the humor in his voice.

She giggled and said, "Just leave the decorating to me, buttercup."

"Okay, but no frilly, fake flowers Jenny," he said and they both laughed.

"I'll try," she answered through her giggles.

"How much for this fake, and to remain flowerless tree," he asked the seller only to spur more giggles from Jenny.

"I'll take seven dollar for it, sonny." an older woman croaked. "It's one of the good kind. Never needs watering."

Jenny said, "We'll take it. It will be perfect for our new living room."

"Jes buy a house, did ya?" the old woman crooned.

"Nope. But we just got married and we're decorating our new apartment; 'til we can buy a house, of course."

"Newlyweds, that's wonderful dear."

"Here you go, and thank you," Johnny said handing me to the elderly woman whose hand smelled of the orange she was eating that I noticed beside the chair she had been sitting in under the canopy.

"Take some advice from and old woman who's loved the same man for 45 years?" the old woman asked. I wasn't sure if it was a rhetorical question, or she expected an answer. But it was Jenny who spoke first.

"Uh...alright, sure," Jenny said with a slight bit of apprehension mixed with curiosity.

"Stay best of friends...works for me and that ol' salty dog over there," she said still holding me in her hand and pointing to a jolly looking fellow in a blue checker shirt and straw hat showing a young man a rusty garden tool. Jenny's husband laughed and assured her they were the best of friends already and leaned over to kiss his bride on the cheek. A soft blush rose behind Jenny's freckles as she put her hand on his arm and lovingly leaned in next to him.

"We will," she agreed and then to her husband she said, "I love you, Johnny."

With that he picked up the tree and they turned to leave just as the old woman said, "Harold, will you put this in your pouch dear. I don't want to spend it. It's good luck taking money from newlyweds."

"Everything is good luck to you Mabel," Harold said smiling.

"I married you didn't I? It's been good luck for you ever since you handsome devil," Mabel said teasingly.

"Maybe it was good luck for you, sweetheart."

Before he tucked me away in an envelope inside their money pouch I saw Harold pat his wife's hand after he helped her back to her chair. That's when I noticed she had braces on both her legs and I wondered if she'd had polio as a child.

From inside the money pouch I could only hear muffled noises and laughter the rest of the afternoon. But both Harold and Mabel seemed in great spirits as they talked and laughed with their customers; treating them all as if they were friends. Obviously, they were regular vendors because a lot of people stopped by just to say hello to the couple. I was conflicted about being retired to the money pouch, and also grateful for the temporary retreat. It had been an extremely busy day already for me as I had help purchase so many items. As I began to recap the day's events I dozed off.

Awakened to the sound of something heavy being dropped into the back of Harold's pickup truck I realized the money pouch I was contained in must be on the front seat in the truck cab, because all the sounds were coming from behind me. Taking their time to load everything the elderly couple was still chatting with flea market patrons. What a happy couple they were, and so much in love after all these years. Grateful my life had crossed their path I couldn't help but wonder what great adventure was in store for me.

****

Arriving at their home the money pouch was put in a safe in the closet. Temporarily disappointed, I was hoping it wouldn't be a long stay as I was ready to be of service again. Being in the safe, however, I couldn't hear anything going on in the house so I let my mind wander to Mary and hoped she was alright. I could only assume she was because I never heard any sirens that night at the county fair. Then I wondered if the waitress was enjoying her 'new' used car. That was definitely one of my most treasured memories...saving up for her car. And the little girl who gave me as an offering in church, what a wonderful set of values she was being taught. Just as I was recalling the young man who tossed me in the wash, I was jolted out of my daydreams when the safe was opened. A strong hand grabbed the pouch and I assumed it was Harold. I wondered what day of the week it was. Seemed I had spent a few days in the safe.

"Come on, dear. We don't want to be late for Colt's grand opening," Mabel said in earnest.

"I am sweet-kins, just don't see why I have to wear a tie," Harold said from somewhere behind me.

"Because it'll make you handsome."

"I'm already handsome."

Mabel laughed, "And that's why I married you, sugar."

"Is that the only reason?" Harold asking teasing her.

"Yes, now get scooting!" Mabel said still laughing as I realized we were all going somewhere and it had to do with a grand opening. Of what, I wondered? And who was Colt? I supposed I'd find out soon enough, and sooner than I thought on the drive Mabel and her husband talked about Colt's big day.

"Do you think Colt got everything ready?" Mabel asked her husband.

"If he didn't, he's as ready as he's going to be. He opens for business in twenty minutes."

What opens? Oh, my curiosity was getting the best of me and they weren't talking about any details. It had to be a store of some sort. I just couldn't wait till we arrived, which seemed to be happening because the car slowed down and came to a stop.

"Did you get the money pouch, Harold?"

"Right here, love."

Just then daylight peeked in as Mabel unzipped the pouch and pulled me and some of my peers out. Whatever was happening I realized I was participating as she clasped me in a firm grip. Things were getting exciting as I paid close attention to everything I overheard. Unfortunately, I heard several voices at once as Harold and Mabel were greeted by a tall, handsome man in his mid-thirties. He had jet black, wavy hair which he wore combed to the left and just past the collar of his pressed white shirt in the back. The collar of his shirt was opened to expose a white gold chain.

"Colt didn't wear a tie!" Harold said as soon as he hugged the younger man.

"You don't need a tie gramps. Did Gigi make you wear it?" Colt was pretending to whisper to his grandfather. At least I knew now that they were related. I gathered they were, but, of course, I wasn't sure until I heard the conversation.

"Well, I might as well leave it. It'd take me an hour to figure out how to take it off anyway," Harold responded to the laughter of everyone.

"Come on, you handsome devil. Let's go inside, I want to make the first purchase," Mabel instructed her husband.

There was quite a crowd gathered and I could see from the front of the building it looked like a novelty store and diner all-in-one. What a creative idea! A shiny silver bus had been cut in half length wise and widened to make room for a store to be placed between the halves. How attention-grabbing. The entrance was in the bus part of the front and opened to a narrow foyer with shiny red and black décor. Harold, Mabel, Colt and several others were all walking in at once. There were two small children who I presumed belonged to Colt, and a beautiful, thirty-something redhead with an ivory complexion who carried one and held the hand of the other.

Mabel walked right up to the cash register and announced she wanted to make the first purchase.

"Gigi, you don't have to do that," Colt said to her, not very convincingly.

"Of course I do, I happen to have in my hot little hand money paid to us by newlyweds. And everyone knows that's good luck, and better luck when you pass it on," she said proudly.

"Well, alright. What's your pleasure ma'am?"

"I'll take one of those."

I was trying to see what she asked for but she was holding me against the counter and I couldn't get a clear view. This was exciting, the first purchase of the day in her great-grandson's business.

"That's two dollars and fifty-seven cents," Colt said as the cash register rang up the total.

"Alright," Mabel said as she handed me over the counter.

"Thanks Gigi, I appreciate it."

"Well, we wanted to be your first customers. Now frame one of those George Washington's for more good luck."

Taking me out of his hand, he handed me to his daughter and said, "Do you think we should frame this Washington, Cheyenne?"

"Uh-huh," said a small voice.

"Framed! Egads, would it hurt!"

THE END

Book two of this trilogy... "The Big Frame Up!" as Washington presides over Colt's business is coming to you next! Find out what fascinating tidbits Washington learns about Colt's customers just by hanging around.
