The Seam Sorceress

Old Superstition, part 2.

Par for the course, Ma Hubbard was out of notions and fabric, so Tilly made another stop at the Coleville Mercantile to pick up the things she'd need for Ella's dress. A truck was idling outside when she had finished. Her breath caught. ʀᴏʏᴀʟ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ, ʟᴛᴅ. was stamped on the driver's side door, complete with a painted-on tiara. The window cranked down. She couldn't bring herself to move.

"Fancy meeting you here," GP said, leaning an elbow out the window. "Don't suppose you need a ride home, do you?"

Tilly's terror thawed into a smile. "How'd you know?"

"I asked the fair's fortune teller," he said with a shrug. "She told me a pretty girl would need a ride home right here about this time. And here you are, so hop in."

Though she didn't believe his story for a minute, Tilly couldn't stop the warmth flooding her face. She toed the ground shyly. "I would, but won't you get in trouble? From what the tin man told me, the fair thinks I caused the incident last night."

"Oh, that." He waved the idea away. "Well, nobody else knows I'm here."

She grinned. "Except the fortune teller."

"And who believes everything a dotty old fortune teller says, anyway?" he joked. "Now c'mon."

"Much obliged."

The interior of the cabin smelled dusty with a bitter undercurrent that was too unpleasant to be old leather, and the bucket seats stuck to Tilly's bare legs. Booger's front paws were planted on the dash and her head poked out the window, jowls flapping joyfully in the breeze.

"Take this street here. It'll get you to the turnpike. We're about eight miles up yonder." Tilly watched as the skyline of Coleville was swallowed up by the swell of the rolling hillside. "Why were you really outside the mercantile? Didya run out of wooden eggs, have to pick up some of the real thing?"

"I was at the sheriff's office. They needed a statement from me." GP kept his eyes on the road. "I saw you headed into the store on my way out."

She stared down at her hands. "It must be pretty serious, then."

"I won't lie to you—the boss is pretty steamed." A mile passed by in total silence. "Sorry about what I said last night, by the way. For what it's worth, I think what you did was terrific. I was just scared."

"Aw, you know I wouldn't let nothing happen to you," she said.

"I wasn't scared for myself." He leaned forward and adjusted the rearview mirror, squinting. "You're special, Tilly. You and Booger both are. You outclass every flimflammer and smoke and mirror trick we have at the fair. You're the real deal. I didn't want anything to happen to you."

"That's real sweet of you to say." Tilly itched Booger's flank just to watch the dog's leg kick in appreciation. "I just wish your boss saw it the same way."

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Now there's a thought. Maybe he could."

"What do you mean?"

"Well—" He shook his head. "Forget it. You've got your mother to care for."

"Can't take care of her if I'm in jail, GP," she reminded him. "Go on and say it."

He honked the horn as they overtook a pair of women out for a joy ride in their shuddering jalopy, long scarves fluttering behind them like kite tails. "Maybe you could come back out to the fair tonight. Show him what you can do."

Tilly waved to the women as they passed, though she didn't recognize them. "Like an audition?"

"Something like that," he said. "I'm sure my boss would drop the whole investigation if you joined up with us."