Page 1 of Deep Fried Devotion
Chapter One
Birdie Summers had been awake since four in the morning, humming along to Taylor Swift's greatest hits while loading her food truck with enough supplies to feed half of Connecticut. The September air held a crisp edge that promised autumn was coming, but today still felt like summer. It was her favorite kind of weather for the biggest weekend of the year.
"Okay, Grandma Rose," she whispered to the faded photo taped to her dashboard, showing a silver-haired woman with laughing eyes and flour-dusted apron. "This is it. The Guilford Fair. Just like you always dreamed."
The Impossible Treats truck rumbled through the early morning streets of Guilford, past colonial houses with their neat white fences and manicured lawns. Birdie had painted her truck herself in swirls of cotton candy pink and sky blue, complete with rainbow bunting. Her grandmother would have loved the whimsy of it all. Rose Summers had believed life was too short for beige anything.
The Guilford Fairgrounds sprawled ahead, already bustling with vendors setting up for Connecticut's second-oldest agricultural fair. Birdie's stomach fluttered with excitement as she navigated between pickup trucks hauling carnival rides and trailers loaded with prize-winning sheep. This was her moment. After six months of farmers markets and birthday parties, the Guilford Fair represented everything she'd been working toward.
She spotted her assigned location and nearly squealed with delight. Corner spot, prime real estate right next to the main thoroughfare where families would stream past all weekend long. The sign read "Impossible Treats" in cheerful yellow lettering, and Birdie sent up a silent thank-you to whatever fair scheduling angel had blessed her with this perfect placement.
"Morning, sunshine!" called Jennie Patel, a round woman with graying curls who'd been organizing fair vendors since before Birdie was born. "Ready for the weekend of your life?"
"More than ready," Birdie laughed, already envisioning the crowds that would gather to try her deep-fried bubble gum bites and cola spheres. "I've been dreaming about this since I sent in my application."
"This corner always does the best business." Jennie consulted her clipboard. "Just remember to keep your electrical cords covered and taped down. You don't want anyone tripping over them or kicking them out of the sockets if they cut around the back of the truck."
“You got it.” Birdie spent the next hour transforming her truck into a sugar-spun wonderland. She strung up lights shaped like tiny donuts, arranged her menu boards with hand-painted descriptions of her impossible treats, and set up sample plates on the small shelf beside her service window with treats that looked more like art projects than food. Deep-fried Oreos nestled next to golden spheres that would explode into cola flavor when bitten. Bubble gum bites sparkled with edible glitter. Cotton candy battered and fried until it became something entirely new.
The morning sun climbed higher, painting everything in that golden glow that made even ordinary moments feel magical. Birdie was adjusting her awning when she heard the rumble of another truck approaching.
She looked up, expecting to see the kettle corn vendor or maybe the ice cream truck that usually set up nearby. Instead, a sleek black food truck rolled toward her corner, as different from her rainbow explosion as night from day. Bold white lettering spelled out "Fry or Die" across the side, and where Birdie's truck announced its presence with color and chaos, this one commanded attention through stark sophistication.
The truck stopped directly in front of the "Impossible Treats" sign.
Birdie's smile faltered. There had to be some mistake. She glanced at her paperwork, double-checking the spot number, but everything matched. This was definitely her assigned location.
The driver's door of the black truck opened, and out stepped a man who looked like he'd been carved from the same uncompromising material as his vehicle. Tall and lean, with dark hair that had clearly been styled with severe intention, he moved like someone who planned every step. His chef's coat was pristine white, not a wrinkle or stain in sight, and his dark eyes swept the area with the intensity of a chef in a Michelin starred restaurant.
His gaze swept to Birdie's truck, and she watched his mouth tighten into a hard line. "Excuse me," he called out, his voice carrying the crisp authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed. "I think there's been a mistake."
Birdie hopped down from her truck, her sneakers hitting the gravel with more confidence than she felt. "Hi there! I'm Birdie Summers. Are you setting up nearby? This is such a great location, isn't it?"
He didn't return her smile. "I’m Soren Walsh. And I'm not setting up nearby. I'm setting up here." He gestured to her truck. "That's my spot."
She blinked at him in confusion. "I'm sorry, what?"
"My contract clearly states this location." Soren's voice remained level, but there was an edge underneath that suggested his control was already being tested. He showed her the contract that was already pulled up on his phone. It looked official all right.
It took her a lot longer to find her copy of the contract on her phone. "But I have the same assignment. Look, right here. I confirmed this three times."
They stared at each other, her in dismay, him in annoyance.
"There's obviously been an error," Soren said, his tone suggesting that errors were personal affronts to his worldview. "I'll need to speak with the coordinator immediately."
"Jennie!" Birdie called out, relief flooding through her. If anyone could sort this out, it would be her. She knew every vendor and every detail of fair operations.
Jennie hurried over, her face creased with concern. Behind her trailed a small crowd of curious vendors and early-arriving fairgoers who sensed drama in the morning air.
"What's going on here?" Jennie asked, though her expression suggested she already suspected the answer.
"There's been a double booking," Soren stated flatly. "We both have contracts for this location."
Jennie's face went through several shades of pink before settling on a deep rose that matched her embarrassment. "Oh no. Oh no, no, no." She flipped through papers on her clipboard with increasing desperation. "This is... this shouldn't have happened."
"But it did happen," Birdie pointed out, trying to keep her voice light despite the growing knot in her stomach. "So what do we do about it?"
More vendors had gathered now, forming a loose circle around the unfolding drama. Birdie recognized Mrs. Plum from the knitting booth, her silver hair pinned back severely but hereyes were bright with interest. There was Joe Kramer from the hardware booth, still holding a socket wrench, and the teenage twins who ran the ring toss game.
