Page 92 of Sweet Caroline
“Caroline!” A woman with turquoise hair in a bright orange dinosaur onesie and Converse high-tops jogs over to us from one of the game booths. “Hey!”
“Ada!” Caroline sweeps her into a hug. When they draw back, Caroline touches my arm. “Ada, this is my boyfriend, Miles.”
Her words crackle in my stomach like I’ve just swallowed a handful of popping candy. I don’t know why I’m surprised—this fake dating thing is the whole reason we’re here tonight—but still, as I go through the motions of shaking Ada’s hand, I’m distracted by how right it felt to hear Caroline call me that.
“So, how do you two know each other?” I ask, forcing myself to stay present.
“Ada’s an artist,” Caroline explains. “I’d been following her online for ages and then we bumped into each other last year at the gallery.”
“Found Family also funds my volunteer gig,” Ada adds. “Speaking of which… Hang on.” Ada turns back to the game booth to shout, “Roly! You got everything under control?” When a dark-haired teenage boy dressed as a mummy gives her a thumbs-up, she spins back to us. “Sorry. Vaguely supervising the teens tonight.”
“Weirdly enough,” Caroline says to me, “Ada and Adrian also go way back, so, I was like, well, you’re my friend now.”
Typical Lennox Valley—it’s always six degrees of Kevin Bacon around here.
“So, do you make a habit of adopting people into your life without asking, or what? Hey! Ow!” I wince when she elbows me in the ribs, but I can’t wipe the smirk off my face. “Ada,” I say, lifting my chin her way, “blink twice if you’re here under your ownfree will.” Ada barks a laugh as I dodge the next elbow from Caroline, snagging her arm instead, a teasing seriousness in my voice when I chastise, “Violence is never the answer.”
“I like this guy,” Ada says.
Rolling her eyes, Caroline lets me tug her into my side, then yanks my beanie down over my face in retaliation. “It’s a good thing he’s cute.”
I grin as I fix my hair and settle my hat back into place.
“Quick photo for the Lennox Valley Chronicle?” A photographer interrupts us, lifting his camera in question.
“Uh, sure,” I say.
“You all look great,” the guy says as we pose for the photo. “Don’t remember the dinosaur from Little Red Riding Hood, though.”
“Oh, that’s ’cause I ate the wolf,” Ada deadpans. “And the grandma.”
Flash.
Ada and I take turns spelling our names for the guy and swiping out wobbly signatures on a simple release form he’s got on his phone.
Caroline starts to spell hers out when the photographer cuts her off, shaking his head. “Oh, you need no introduction, Ms. Brennan.”
And she says she’s not famous.
He passes her his phone with the waiver ready to go. “Just sign here and I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Hey, any headway with that curator of yours?” Ada asks when the photographer leaves.
“I wish,” Caroline replies, her shoulders drooping slightly. “I’ll keep trying, though. The gallery needs a shake-up so bad.”
“Well, if he doesn’t listen, it’s probably ’cause his head is stuck too far up his ass to hear you.”
I tilt my head. Having crossed paths with Julian at the gallery, I’d say she’s not wrong.
Ada gets called back to her game booth duties and promises to meet up with us later.
When I notice the train line has died down, we duck under the ropes to wait under the marquee tent for the next ride.
“So, you got some kind of mutiny planned at work, or what?” I ask as the train chugs slowly to a halt.
She laughs. “Kinda? I’m hoping to get Ada’s pieces in for a local artist exhibition, along with some others… if I can swing it.”
“What’s stopping you?”
