Pumpkin Patch Princess

CHAPTER TWO: Visiting Valentine

"I told you two to stay away from your father's bubbling solution!" their mother shrieked.

Next door, an elderly lady smiled at me and called out, "Would you like your fortune told, dearie?"

"No, thank you," I said, knowing that Indigo was full of tradespeople who would say anything to make a dime. Dad had always warned me about these so-called fortune-tellers. "If they could tell the future, they'd know they wouldn't get money from you," he always pointed out.

Across the street, a small girl was learning how to boil water without using fire, the way all children in Finale were taught. She had a pot handle in a firm grip, her little face pinched with concentration. "That's it, keep going!" her mother encouraged her.

I didn't stick around to see whether she succeeded, because I got distracted by the sight of a man struggling to control a large gray horse nearby.

"You looking for something, miss?" he panted, glancing at me.

"I'm trying to find Bluebell Lane . . ." I trailed off, staring at the horse. Its mouth had been smeared with some sort of red waxy substance. "Excuse me, sir, but did you know that your horse is wearing . . ."

"Lip rouge? Heavens, yes." He sighed. "This is my wife."

The horse gave a loud snort and rolled its eyes.

" . . . I see," I said.

"Well, this was my wife, anyway. We had a bit of an accident at the Tented Market," he explained. "I bought Susan this potion that was supposed to make her beautiful and whatnot. I'm not saying she didn't need it, because she did." The horse gave a murderous whinny. "Anyway, the silly woman uncorks this bottle and drinks the entire thing."

"And she turned into a horse?" I said incredulously. "You'd better get her to Mount Seasprite. Maybe they have an antidote or something."

"I'm not sure that will change much. She was always a nag," he said, neatly sidestepping her attempt to stomp on his foot. "Sorry, miss, you were looking for . . .?"

"111 Bluebell Lane."

"That's Miss Valentine's place, just through those trees there." He gestured to a path that curved away from the main road.

"Thank you." I watched him wrangle with the animal for a moment. "What's the Tented Market like? I've always wanted to see a traveling bazaar."

"It's on its way to Irisia at the moment. You've just missed it by about an hour," he said, wiping his forehead. "It's really something. You get strange folks from all over, peddling their wares. Gnomes, fairies, and reformed witches hawking potions and charms. They even have linwood balm, made from the famous trees of Heliotropia. It'll cure any transformation."

"Maybe it'll help your wife."

"Probably. Although I sort of like the fact that she can't talk."

The ferocious horse-wife began pawing the ground and I backed away. "Nice talking to you," I said, hurrying off before his spouse could break free on a crazy killing rampage.

Valentine Jenkins lived in a pink-and-white cottage with scalloped trimming and frilly shutters, set amidst a sea of rosebushes. A jug of cold lemonade and a plate of chewy chocolate chip cookies sat on the porch table.

When I rang the bell, the door was opened by a plump, pastel cupcake of a woman.

"What can I do for you, young lady?" Valentine asked, then beamed when I explained about my interest in the C.A.F.E. internship. "I'll have the paperwork for you in a jiffy. Have a seat and help yourself to refreshments!"