He leans across the console and pecks my cheek. “You worry too much, missy.”
I smile and tell myself he is right. I tell myself he won’t stay glued to his phone all night. That it’s not a big deal. Even though it is a big deal. This day has been a real shitshow, and I don’t want it getting any worse.
“We could just go home,” he suggests with a hopeful tone. “Walk around the neighborhood and put up signs.”
I glance at the back seat. The girls’ faces register that they, too, are eagerly awaiting my response. This is the third time Greg has suggested turning around and driving home. He claims it’s on account that Rocky might turn up but conveniently leaves out the part about not wanting to miss college football, but I digress. Not coming wasn’t an option. I am partly here for work. Hard as I tried, I couldn’t get my shift at the booth covered. Not to mention it would devastate the girls to miss it.
“No,” I tell him. “The gates are opening. And this day could use a little fun.” The fall festival is always one of my favorite events of the year. It reminds me why we moved to Sunset Canyon, why we stay, and why everyone else wants to move here too.
“Fun it is, then,” Greg says sarcastically. He kills the ignition. “How long until your shift?”
“Not long enough…about an hour and a half.”
“Come on girls, let’s go get your mother some pictures for social media.”
“Not for social. For your grandparents.”
“My mistake.” He flings the door open. “For your grandparents.”
“Don’t be a poor sport,” I say, helping Blair hop out of the back.
Jack Mooney flashes across my mind. It wasn’t rape. She was just a poor sport. That was his response to the sexual assault charge. The girl was just fifteen. Only a handful of years older than Naomi.
Greg takes Blair from my arms and places her on the ground. “I’m sorry.”
I take Naomi’s hand in mine.
“Amy? Did you hear me?”
I look over at him, but my mind is elsewhere…a decade or so in the past.
“Are you feeling okay?” He hoists Blair onto his shoulders as she giggles wildly. As we walk, his eyes are on me. “You’re as white as a ghost.”
“I’m fine,” I say, shoving my phone in my back pocket. “Just tired.”
Naomi yanks on my arm. “We have to hurry!” She pulls me past the gate, toward the carnival rides. “And no pictures.”
“I have to get tickets. And I don’t want you getting dirty first—so yes, pictures.”
Greg stands in the enormous line to purchase tickets while I snap photos of the girls in front of the pumpkin patch. Eventually, when it’s clear they’ve had enough, that there won’t be a single pose more, I take them to stand in line for a ride.
By the time Greg returns with tickets, we’ve nearly reached the front.
The two of us stand there watching them in little cars, going around and around, waving each time they pass, wearing enormous smiles. Emotion sweeps over me. I want to freeze this moment, to milk it, to make it last just a little bit longer, even though I know it’s impossible.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Greg asks, peering down at me.
“Actually…no.”
I can see that he is expecting this response and also that he is preparing his defense. “Anything from Dana yet? It would be helpful to know what the guy looks like.”
“She said the seller says the cameras were off. I don’t buy it though.”
“Why would she lie?”
“Dana said she probably doesn’t want anything getting out that would prevent the house from selling.”
“Makes sense.”
“Tell me again what happened. What did he say…word for word?”
As I recant the story, he listens with careful concern. He doesn’t blow me off or say anything that makes me feel any better, which I suppose is what I was hoping for, so the conversation only leaves me feeling worse.
The girls exit the ride, ask if they can go again, and Greg waves them through. Then he turns to me. “What do you want to do?” he asks logically, in a way that infuriates me. Therefore, I lie.
“I’m going to talk to Dana about having two agents at open houses from now on. I feel like this is something that should have happened a long time ago.”
“This is a pretty safe town,” Greg says, playing devil’s advocate.
“You’re right,” I sigh. “It’s probably not a big deal. It just freaked me out.”
“But you said he didn’t threaten you?”
I consider him for a moment and decide to leave out the part about Mooney mentioning him and the girls. I’m not really in the mood to argue semantics. “Not exactly, no.”
“I wouldn’t worry then. He’s probably all bark and no bite.”
He’s right, I’m here. I’m safe. Might as well suck it up and be present. I plaster a smile on my face. “Like you said, he’s probably just trying to scare me.”
Greg nods. “I think it’s working.”
Dana works the booth with me after Sarah gets sick from carnival food. If only I’d thought of that one. It’s relatively slow, mostly former clients and neighbors stopping by to say hello. I’m deep into conversation with Mr. Crowley about Rocky when I feel a tap on my shoulder.
When I pivot, I see a familiar face staring back at me. “Alex.”
“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” he says. He glances at Mr. Crowley with a hopeful smile, as though to say, is it okay if I interrupt this dance? “Good thing though—I’m looking for a new place.”
Dana comes over. “Alex? Long time—”
“You two know each other?” I ask, looking from Dana to Alex.
“She helped me sell my house.”
“Oh—”
“It’s okay,” Dana coughs, sensing that I don’t want to step on any toes. She looks down at the phone in her hand. “I’ll let you two catch up. Actually, I have a call to make.”
Mr. Crowley clears his throat. “Guess I’ll be going then.”
“I’ll have Naomi stop in tomorrow morning,” I call after him as he hobbles away.
Then I turn back to Alex, as though I’m shocked to see him standing there, and I am. I haven’t seen him in years. “It’s good seeing you,” he tells me, shoving his hands in his pockets. He teeters on the balls of his feet. “It’s been a long time. You look well.”
“Yes,” I say. “It has.” I glance over my shoulder at the booth and then back at him. “You look well, too.”
“I’m not, really,” he half-laughs. “But it’s good to know I can fake it.”
“What brings you by? You’re thinking of selling?”
“No.” He presses his lips into a thin line. “Already did that. I’m ready to buy something. At least I think—”
A family walks up to the booth. Both Alex and I look over at them and then to each other. “I’ll be right with you,” I say.
“Come on!” A little boy squeals. “This is no fun!” His father quiets him, but his little brother starts in, pulling at his mother’s hands.