22. Encounters

Bonnie no sooner found her mother than she was directed to help her Aunt Annalise at the mobbed raffle table. As in previous years, the B & B Foundation had commissioned a quilt from a local fiber artist, and this year, the woman had outdone herself. Knowing that all proceeds from the raffle were earmarked for supporting the Children's Hospital's Life Flight service, the designer had chosen, appropriately enough, the traditional flying geese pattern, but she had, in addition, very cleverly pieced the straight lines of tiny triangles so that they arrowed from a central circle like spokes from a hub, creating, through the use of varying line lengths and colors, the illusion of swiftly spinning blades, as of a helicopter in motion. Seeing the quilt hanging in all its finely-worked glory on the wall behind the raffle table, Bonnie had never been sorrier that family members were prohibited from participating in the lottery.

The demand was such that Bonnie and Annalise had no more than the odd moment for sharing their news. They had all they could do to field questions, fill in ticket stubs and make change. At one point, Bonnie feared they would run out of ticket books, but the rush slowed considerably after a time, and that danger passed. Annalise took advantage of the decreased traffic to take an early lunch, so Bonnie was quite alone when Gabby Franklin, accompanied by twin preteen girls, bustled up to the table. "Bonnie! Hello! I was hoping I'd see you! These are my nieces," she said, waving the girls forward. "Hailey and Hadley. Girls, this is Miss Booth-Hodgins. Do you have something you'd like to say to her?"

"Thank you for the tickets, Miss Booth-Hodgins," the girls caroled in astounding synchrony.

Bonnie could not contain a smile at such charming behavior. "Thank you for coming. Are you having a fun time?"

The small, smoothly-coiffed heads bobbed earnestly.

"They've been on a number of rides already," Gabby confided, "so I thought we'd take a break and have a look around here. Beautiful stuff, such talent. I wish I had a bottomless purse."

"It'll only cost you $2.50 for a chance to win this year's quilt. Isn't it a beauty?"

"Stunning," Gabby agreed, leaning in to admire the rich fabrics and tiny stitches. "And it's for a very worthy cause, I see. I have the worst luck with raffles, but still, you never know. It's five tickets for a ten spot? I'll do that."

Gabby might have lingered a while longer but for the trio of young women who ambled up behind her, and stood waiting their turn. They were, all three of them, attractive blonds in their twenties dressed in the latest fashion of cigarette jeans with bolero-style jackets worn over long, gauzy blouses. When Gabby had moved off, herding her nieces before her, the tallest of the three stepped forward and gave Bonnie the full benefit of her thousand-watt smile. "Bonnie!" She extended a hand in a crisp, practiced motion. "What luck running into you!"

There was something in her firm grip and quasi-professional cheeriness that jogged Bonnie's memory. "Miss Greeley! Vanna," she corrected herself, shaking the woman's hand. "It's a pleasure to see you again."

"I'm flattered you remember me. Honestly, I didn't expect you to. It's been weeks since that fundraiser!" She half-turned, and gestured to her companions, both of whom were busy consulting their vid-screens. "Those gorgeous gals are my sisters, Charlotte and Augusta."

Bonnie couldn't help but grin. "You don't happen to have another sister at home named Atlanta or a brother named Raleigh?"

Vanna took the ribbing in good part. "Fortunately, no. And if there'd been a fourth daughter, heaven help her, she'd have been called Tallahassee! No lie!" They shared a chuckle at the Greeley parents' idiosyncrasy, and then Vanna shifted her eyes away from Bonnie, and up to the quilt. "That really is the most exquisite needlework. I would truly love to have that in my hope chest."

"Hope chest?" Bonnie echoed. "What's that?"

Vanna regarded her quizzically, as though suspecting Bonnie was joking again. "You know, a wooden chest — mine's made of cedar — where you store sheets and blankets, towels and tablecloths for when you get married and set up your own household. Do you mean to say you really don't have one? I thought, what with you and Trev being practically engaged…"

Bonnie shook her head. "It's not a custom I'm familiar with."

"Well, fancy that! Mine's full fair to bursting, but I'd make room for that quilt, believe you me! Let's see… I'll take five tickets for myself, and five for each of my sisters. That way, if one of them wins, they can give me the quilt as a wedding present!"

Bonnie had to smile at Vanna's enthusiasm and vivacity; she'd liked her the first time they'd met, and now Bonnie remembered why. "Sounds like all you need is the groom," she said lightly, taking the bills Vanna held out to her. "Any candidates?"

"You know," Vanna drawled playfully, "I think I might've found one. I just met him a short while back, and I'm not sure he even knows I exist yet, but …" Her eyes danced with mischief and she waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "He's got definite possibilities."

Bonnie spared the hapless fellow in question just a moment's pity; if Vanna decided she wanted him, the poor guy wasn't going to have much choice in the matter. Not that he'd likely mind…

By the time Bonnie had written the necessary information onto the stubs and handed Vanna her tickets, Charlotte and Augusta had wandered some feet away to check out the handcrafted jewelry. Vanna cast a look about her, and seeing no one in the immediate vicinity, smiled at Bonnie with a little less than her customary confidence. "I was wondering, as you seem to have a free minute, if you wouldn't mind giving me a bit of advice."

The request caught Bonnie by surprise, but, curiosity aroused, she replied easily enough, "Okay. What's up?"

"Well, you know Senator Wyndham-Pryce so much better than I do, so I thought you would know what he might like for his birthday. I know Freya — Mrs. Wyndham-Pryce — said bringing a gift wasn't necessary, but I don't feel right going to a party empty-handed."

Bonnie felt sure she must have misheard. The Senator's birthday was always celebrated in the bosom of his family with, at most, a few close friends mixed in. "You've been invited to the party up at the lake house?"

Vanna nodded. "A few of us staffers. You know, as a kind of thank you for all our work on the campaign. So…" She looked at Bonnie trustingly. "Any ideas?"

Bonnie did not answer immediately, torn between the desire to help and the urge to be selfish. She had the perfect gift in mind, a gift she knew from past experience would please the Senator greatly, but if she tipped Vanna off, she'd be leaving herself in the lurch. She gazed into Vanna's hopeful face, and stifled a sigh. "The Senator collects duck-hunting memorabilia, like wooden duck calls and hand-carved decoys. He doesn't hunt anymore, but I guess he used to go out with his dad once upon a time. Anyway, you may have noticed a woodcarver's display just as you entered the pavilion: McTeague Woodworking. The Senator has a number of McTeague decoys already, and he really likes their craftsmanship. Tell McTeague who you're buying for, and let him recommend a model. He probably has a good idea what the Senator already owns."

A wide smile spread over Vanna's pretty face. "That sounds perfect! I'll head right on over. Thanks so much, Bonnie! I owe you one!"

Bonnie was careful not to release her sigh until Vanna was well out of ear shot.

Her aunt's return after, it had to be said, a protracted lunch break provided Bonnie a welcome diversion from her thoughts, while the basket of french fries and bottled water Annalise had brought back for her went some way to appeasing Bonnie's hunger. It was just as well her aunt had thought to feed her, because it was nearly mid-afternoon before Christine returned to assume charge of the table. She took a quick tally of the neat bundles of bills in the till, and nodded in satisfaction. "I think this is more money than we raised last year, and that was a record amount. Thanks for your help, Anna," she said, kissing her sister-in-law in parting. "Are you off home, or staying around for a while?"

Annalise grimaced in apprehension. "I promised Reese I'd ride the Zipper with him."

"The Zipper!" Christine exclaimed, horrified. "You'll make yourself sick! Why can't Hank do it?"

"You know how it is." Annalise shrugged helplessly. "Sometimes a boy just wants his mother."

Bonnie did not expect her mother to have any patience with this sentiment, and so was not surprised when Christine merely shook her head at her sister-in-law's receding back. "And how about you?" she said, turning to Bonnie. "What're your plans?"

This was not, Bonnie suspected, as casual a question as it sounded. "Lunch, first and foremost. And then I'll have a couple of hours to kill before I meet Trev. I thought I'd have a walk around, take in the atmosphere, maybe check in with some of the game operators I know. Why? Is there something I can do for you?"

"Well, as you'll be wandering around anyway, you could shoot some video for the website. Max and Junior are already on it, but knowing them, their video will feature nothing but pretty girls in tight sweaters and short skirts. It would be nice to have some footage of families and little children enjoying the day."

As additional tasks went, this one suited Bonnie to a tee. "No problem. I'll make a point of swinging through the kiddie area."

After hours cooped up indoors, it was a pure pleasure to be out in the sunshine again. The carnival was now in full, frenetic swing, the concourses thronged with people, adults moving sedately and stopping often to dawdle while teenagers pinballed excitedly from one activity to another, only just avoiding strollers and the slower visitors along their path. Over the constant babble of voices and the rhythmic creaks, clanks and clatter of heavy machinery, whoops, shouts, and high-pitched screams rose into the air, piercing the ear and gladdening the heart. Bonnie ate her guilty pleasure of a meal — funnel cake and candied apple — on the hoof, passing from one snatch of pop music into another, and resisting, with general success, the hollered exhortations of the game concessionaires. Hands finally free, she did succumb to the temptation to play one game of "Break a Plate," and came away with a respectable, if small, plush toy prize which she gave away at the first opportunity.

Taking her vid-screen out of her pocket, she turned her steps to the kiddie area, keeping an eye out for appealing family groups along the way. Whenever she stopped, she was careful to introduce herself and her objective, and was met invariably with open smiles and happy acquiescence. She shot video after video: here, an adorable toddler waved cheerfully from behind the steering wheel of a miniature boat, there, wide-eyed preschoolers grinned in mixed exhilaration and fear as they sped past on the dipping, tilting roller-coaster. Older children screeched deliriously as they were flung about in spinning cups and cages, while still others raced through the Fun House's obstacle course, running up its towers and over its swaying suspension bridges to the top of the large, see-through tunnel. Hoping for a last, great action shot, Bonnie positioned herself at the foot of the long slide, and set the recorder going, only to nearly drop the vid-screen in surprise at the sight of the little body that rocketed out at her.

"Danny!" she called out, rushing toward the air mattress that had cushioned his fall. "Danny Baer!"