Feeling shaky, she was careful walking down the few stairs that led back to the ground. When the grass was solidly beneath her feet again, Aimee sighed with relief. She glanced at her watch and was shocked to find that she’d been inside the funhouse almost twenty minutes.
Sandra was nowhere in sight. “She probably got tired of waiting.” A couple passing by gave her a strange look, probably because she was talking to herself again. That was a habit she’d picked up by living and working alone. Just something else to make the townspeople think she was a sandwich short of a picnic.
It was more likely Sandra hadn’t waited at all. Patience was not one of her friend’s virtues. Sandra was a bit self-centered, expecting the people around her to adjust to her schedule. Aimee figured because Sandra was so beautiful and outgoing she usually got exactly what she wanted. For the most part, Aimee didn’t mind. It was a small price to pay for friendship. Besides, it wasn’t like she didn’t have some quirks of her own that Sandra had to put up with.
Knowing she’d have to search for Sandra, she left the funhouse behind and headed toward the food and games. Maybe her friend had decided to get something to eat. More likely, some guy had offered to buy her some food or take her on a ride. She attracted men everywhere she went—young men, old men, middle-aged men and even married men. Sandra wouldn’t be alone for more than a minute unless she chose to be.
Aimee decided she’d get herself that promised hotdog and look around. They’d run into each other eventually. Hopefully, Sandra would be ready to go home by then.
Aimee wished she hadn’t let her friend talk her into sharing a ride here. If she had her own car, she could just go home. As it was, she’d have to find Sandra or go back to the parking area and wait by the car. It was just her luck that, in her hurry to leave for the carnival, she’d left her phone at home sitting in the charger.
It’s only for one night, she reminded herself. “Suck it up and have a hotdog.”
Determined to enjoy the food, she shoved all thoughts of the funhouse from her head and headed toward the food concession stands.
Chapter Three
Aimee licked a dab of ketchup off her fingers and continued to chew. The funhouse might not have been very much fun but the hotdog was delicious. There was something about eating a hotdog outside, one that had been grilled, which made it extra tasty. She swallowed and washed it down with a sip of lemonade, which had just the right balance of tartness and sweetness. Perfect.
The mood of the crowd was exuberant and infectious. Everyone seemed to be having fun. The knots in Aimee’s shoulders began to relax as she stood in the shadow of a concession stand and observed all the people milling about.
A people-watcher by nature, she was more comfortable remaining in the background. She enjoyed studying faces and watching folks as they interacted with one another. The artist in her was always searching for interesting possibilities to be filed away for use in her work sometime in the future. Her gaze landed on a couple in front of a booth that held one of the target games.
A young man stood about thirty feet away from several small paper targets, holding the air rifle in his hands. Beside him, his date watched and waited. Anticipation filled the air as the young man fired once. The shot went awry. The dark-haired girl frowned but the young man hefted the air rifle and looked straight down the barrel. He raised the rifle again and fired twice more in rapid succession. This time he hit both targets. The girl squealed and the young man smiled. They left the stall with an adorable white teddy bear, the girl holding her prize tightly in her arms.
Aimee chuckled as the young man swooped down and stole a kiss from his date. The girl laughed and snuggled closer as the two of them walked toward the next game of chance. Aimee predicted another bear would soon join the first one.
The carnival would probably lose their shirt on that particular game. The sight on the air rifle might be off, but this was mountain country. There wasn’t a man or boy within one hundred miles who couldn’t adjust for that and hit the target. Heck, for that matter, most of the women and girls could too.
The roar of the generators was almost drowned out by the sound of pop music pumping out from the speakers situated strategically around the grounds. People had to shout at one another to be heard over the din. The rides continued almost nonstop, pausing only long enough to let off passengers and load up again.
Aimee finished the last bite of her hotdog as one particularly scary ride off to her left flew the dozens of screaming passengers high in the air before swooping them down low again. She had to look away. Just watching the ride was making her stomach queasy and her head spin.