Conflict of Interest (The McClouds of Mississippi 2)

“Today isn’t officially St. Patrick’s Day,” Adrienne informed her. “I suppose the town is having the festival today because people have to go to work and to school on Monday.”

“It’s just an excuse for the chamber of commerce to make some money from vendors and business exhibitors,” Gideon said. “For some reason, people will pay three-fifty for a hot dog and two bucks for a watered-down soda as long as you call the event a festival.”

Isabelle eyed him questioningly. “You don’t want to go?”

Adrienne watched him force a smile for his sister’s benefit. “Sure. Can’t wait.”

Taking pity on him, she smiled. “I can take Isabelle to the festival, Gideon. That would give you a chance to work in peace today. My ankle’s so much better, I’m sure I could drive your truck—”

“I said I would take you to the festival and I will.” The look he gave her just dared her to argue. She didn’t have the nerve.

Instead she glanced at Isabelle’s empty cereal bowl. “I’ll help you get dressed,

sweetie. I bet we can find something green for you to wear, if you like.”

“Gideon isn’t wearing green.”

Adrienne couldn’t look at him, knowing she would laugh if she did. “It isn’t required. It’s only for fun.”

“Okay. I’ve got a green shirt. I’ll wear that.”

Following the child out of the room, Adrienne found herself almost as excited about attending the festival as Isabelle.

She doubted that Gideon would have said the same.

It was a beautiful day in Honesty, the sky a brilliant blue, the temperature climbing to a comfortable sixty-eight degrees after the chilly night. Whether it was because of the nice weather or the popularity of the event itself, a sizable crowd mingled on the streets of old downtown Honesty.

The center square had been closed to traffic, so Gideon parked in a nearby church lot and they walked the final block. Gideon had insisted that Adrienne use the crutches, though she really hadn’t wanted to bother with them. Once again she wore her black loafer on her left foot and a black sock beneath the brace on her right.

Gideon stayed close to her side as they joined the crowds on the sidewalks. As if she might tumble onto her face if he wasn’t there to catch her, she thought in exasperation. He instructed Isabelle to hold his hand to make sure she didn’t get separated from them. Though he was gamely going along with this outing, he didn’t look like a man who was prepared to have a good time, Adrienne couldn’t help noticing.

The festival was a casual event, with jeans and T-shirts being the uniform of the day. A great deal of the green being worn for the occasion came in the form of camouflage print, she observed with a smile.

Vendors’ booths and open-sided tents lined the streets. She and Isabelle paused to study each one, while Gideon waited patiently behind them. Ceramics, woodwork, needlework, handmade toys, dolls and musical instruments. Sunglasses and T-shirts, hunting and fishing gear, costume jewelry, candles and potpourri. Adrienne and Isabelle were intrigued by it all. What they didn’t see were products that had anything to do with Ireland.

“Um, this is a St. Patrick’s Day festival?” she asked Gideon, studying a display of wild game seasonings and camo caps and T-shirts.

“So they claim. Surprisingly enough, it’s very much like the Fourth of July festival. And the Labor Day festival.”

She laughed and they moved on to the next block. She was aware that people watched them, and that—thanks to the local gossip—most of them probably knew who she was. She supposed it was natural that there would be some curiosity about Gideon’s New York agent, who had been sleeping in his house for the past week.

Several people greeted Gideon, and she could tell by his tone whether they were people he liked. He introduced her to a few of them, and she was warmly greeted. It seemed like a pleasant town, despite the usual drawbacks of small-town gossip, which Isabelle had already had to face.

Though it was a little early for lunch, the tantalizing scents from the numerous food vendors piqued their appetites. The offerings included hamburgers and corn dogs, pizza, barbecue, fried chicken, Cajun dishes, turkey legs, cotton candy, funnel cakes, kettle corn and taffy. A stand in the center of the square had been festooned with big, cut-out shamrocks, and dispensed disposable bowls of corned beef and cabbage.

Amused by that token homage to Ireland, Adrienne decided to sample foods from the local area, instead. At Gideon’s recommendation, they fell in line at the popular Cajun food stand. Gideon ordered crawfish gumbo, Isabelle requested fried catfish nuggets with French fries and Adrienne selected a shrimp PoBoy sandwich with a small side order of red beans and rice. The “gator-on-a-stick” was intriguing, but she wasn’t quite brave enough to try it.

Numerous picnic tables had been set up in the food area, and Gideon efficiently commandeered one that had just been vacated, ignoring the disgruntled scowls from a group of teenagers who had spotted it at roughly the same time. He carried Adrienne’s food for her, set it on the table, then returned for the drinks they had ordered—iced tea for the adults and lemonade for Isabelle.

Their casual meal was accompanied by a cheerful cacophony of festival sounds: laughter and conversation, babies fussing and toddlers whining, tinny music from the rides that had been set up in the next street. Several yards behind her was a stage for local entertainment—a magician, a couple of garage bands and a procession of karaoke singers, some pretty good, others a bit painful to hear, but all eager to perform.

Isabelle was almost too busy watching the activities around them to eat. Adrienne had no trouble concentrating on her food. It was delicious.

“There’s a kids’ area, Gideon,” Isabelle said, pointing. “They’re doing face painting and giving away balloons. And there’s a game where I can win prizes by picking a rubber duckie out of a wading pool. Can we go there next?”

“Yeah, I guess we—”

“And can I ride the merry-go-round? I want a black horse, because they’re the prettiest. And maybe later we can have some cotton candy?”