Free Revenge of the Wrought-Iron Flamingos by Donna Andrews Page A

help you?" I asked.
    "Oh, no," one watchman said, starting to back away.
    "It's not really important," the other said. He tripped over an andiron in his haste to leave, sending the dish of the bird-bath sailing. The potter leaped up and caught it as if it were an oversized ceramic Frisbee, then followed them out of my booth. I could hear the three of them bickering as they scurried down the lane. Apparently I'd just blown the Miss Congeniality award. I closed my eyes again and massaged my temples.
    "Long day," Amanda said, coming up and leaning against my table.
    "The longest," I agreed. "And not over yet. We still have the party."
    "You make that sound like as much fun as a firing squad," Amanda said. "What's wrong with the party?"
    "I just want to put on my jeans and relax, not keep wearing these damned skirts," I said, shaking the hem of my dress and raising a small cloud of dust. "And Michael's mother will be having conniption fits at every real or imaginary thing that goes wrong."
    "Well, tell her not to get her panniers in a twist," Amanda said, smiling. "The tall, dark, and handsome Michael will be there, of course."
    And Michael, of course, which would make up for everything – normally. But if Michael showed up at the party hellbent on having a serious discussion on the progress of our relationship…
    "What's wrong?" Amanda asked. "Have an argument?"
    "More like a continuation of an ongoing discussion," I said. "Which isn't much better, actually."
    "So I gathered. What's the problem anyway? I mean, the mother's an ogre, of course, but you of all people should be used to dealing with impossible relatives."
    "He wants me to move in with him," I said. "Or at least move closer, so we can see more of each other."
    "And your problem is?"
    "I don't know," I said. "Makes me nervous, though."
    "Honey, every unmarried woman I know complains all the time about how she can't find a guy who isn't scared of commitment. Sounds like you found one who's interested in commitment."
    "And I'm the one who's scared."
    "If that mother of his comes as part of the package, maybe you should be scared."
    "And maybe I should just be committed. Michael's great, and like you say, I'm used to dealing with crazy relatives. What's one more? It's not him or his mother. It's me."
    "Well, stick to your guns," she said, patting me on the shoulder. "You'll know when the time is right."
    She scurried back to her booth to accost a customer, and I sighed. Would I know when the time was right? Maybe the time was as right now as it ever would be, and I was blowing it, big time.
    "Well, Faulk finally showed up," Michael said, strolling in. "Just in time, too. I have no idea how to shut up his booth."
    "Thanks for filling in for him," I said. "Hope you didn't have to miss any regimental events."
    "I thought you resented me going to regimental events," he said.
    "No, I don't," I began, and then changed my mind. "Look, let's not get into that again now, when we only have maybe fifteen or twenty minutes before we're late for your mother's party."
    His face relaxed into a smile.
    "Good point," he said. "Only we actually have about thirty seconds before we're late," he added, glancing at a pocket watch that he'd pulled out of his waistcoat.
    "Damn!" I said. "Hang on a minute while I shut things up."
    "Don't worry. She's not calling the roll and taking off points for attendance."
    "That's what you think," I muttered.
    I hastily grabbed my cash box and my laptop and ducked behind the curtain into the storage area, where I nestled them safely in one of my metal storage cases, and padlocked the case.
    "Oops," Michael said. Apparently he'd tripped over my haversack and was now shoveling the contents back in.
    "Thanks," I said as he handed it over. "Although I don't think I had quite that much hay and straw in it to begin with."
    "Well, you never know when they might come in handy," he said, with a grin. "Come on. The party awaits."
    We left the craft-fair grounds,