Page 102 of Starrily
“They need to figure it out. Give them a few days.”
Her stomach churned. Days more of waiting—and this was much worse than waiting to see if a research or a grant proposal would be accepted.
How was she ever going to do it?
“Hey.” Raleigh gently held her shoulders. “We’ve come this far.”
“I know. It just makes me nervous.” She wagged her finger at him. “And don’t call itmywitchy ways. I’m not like them.”
“All right.” He rubbed her shoulders. “You’re not a witch. Although your cat is anything but ordinary.”
“Wait, whereisTheia?” Callie leaned past the door frame, half-expecting to see Theia chasing some innocent passerby.
“She demanded to stay with your family for now.”
“Theia?”
He raised his pointer finger. “I had no choice in the matter. Your family told me she wishes to examine their ways. She’ll be back with you tomorrow.”
That sounded like her family, all right.
“Anyway,” Raleigh continued, “I saw a fair being set up on the main square. Stalls, tents, and I swear I could smell chicken wings …”
Callie frowned. It couldn’t be, but the time was right. After all these years, it was still going? “Venus Fest?”
Raleigh lifted an eyebrow. “You guys have an erotic festival?”
She punched his shoulder. “It’s a normal summer festival. Games, music, food, the like.”
“Perfect! I was wondering what we could do for the afternoon.”
“You want us to go?”
Raleigh’s expression turned somber, and he looked past her into the room. “If you have work or don’t want to go, you don’t have to. But I heard the wordsgamesandfoodin a sentence together, and therefore am legally required to make an appearance.”
“Actually …” She glanced at her tablet. It wasn’t the work—she was still on vacation. She’d been scared of going into town, of seeing old places and old acquaintances.
But she’d have to walk through the hurt at some point. She grabbed Raleigh’s hand. “Let’s go.”
Not only was Venus Fest still in existence, but it looked almost as Callie remembered. There was the old merry-go-round for the little kids, balloon popping and a high striker and other games, stalls with colorful banners announcing food and drinks, and the small stage where a new local garage band would perform each year. Kids were running about, their parents were doing very little parenting, and workers were still setting up the equipment on the stage. It was all frighteningly familiar, but it didn’t fall into place until the smell of popcorn and cotton candy wafted past Callie’s nose. The combination sent her back into the days when she and Mila were those kids, and theirs would be the parents who did very little parenting, and by the end of the festival, their tummies would hurt from all the cotton candy they’d eaten.
But even stranger than a simple scent evoking such strong memories was that thinking of it caused Callie no pain. It was bittersweet and nostalgic, but it was just a memory.
“Has it changed much?” Raleigh asked.
“Not at all. It’s the same as when Mila and I visited as kids.”
“There is something to be said about letting children attend an erotic festival—”
“It’s clearly not that!”
“Okay.” He grinned. “But they need to rethink their marketing.”
“Maybe. A little bit.” Venus had nothing to do with the festival.
“So, what do we do? What didyouuse to do?”
She glanced around, and the long-forgotten child’s joy inside of her bubbled to the surface. “Cotton candy,” she said, unable to fight off a smile. “And then the high striker.”
