Free Missionary Daddy by Linda Goodnight Page B

in town.
    As Rachel and Andrew had both intended, Samantha Harcourt would draw a crowd.
    “Speaking of the connivers, here come Gina and Jeremy,” she said.
    Eric balanced a sleeve of paper cups onto the counter near the soft-drink machine and yelled, “Hi, guys. Where’s the rest of the gang?”
    “They’ll be here,” Jeremy said, ducking below the wooden frame to enter the booth. “Billy doesn’t ever get out of bed before noon.”
    “That’s why we put him on the second shift at the dunk tank.” Gina followed her boyfriend inside. For once the girl wasn’t wearing a sweater. In jeans and T-shirt, she was stick-thin, thinner even than Samantha.
    Ever since Sam had shared her concern that Gina had an eating disorder, Eric had been watching. He hadn’t admitted as much to Sam yet, but he, too, had begun to wonder if something was wrong. Gina was the perfect kid, a straight-A student, never any trouble to her parents and quiet as a mouse most of the time, but something didn’t feel right.
    Gina’s gaze flicked to Sam and then away. Had Sam said something else to the girl? Later, when he and Sam were alone, he’d ask.
    The thought brought him up short. Being alone with Sam sounded better than it should. Last night at the diner, they’d been having a great time until the couple had asked for her autograph. That reminder of the gulf between them had brought him down to earth. Samantha Harcourt, nearing supermodel status, was not in his league at all.
    Now to convince the youth group of that.
    “May I have a Coke, please?”
    Eric turned his attention to their first customer. “One Coke coming up. Would you like some cotton candy, too? Fresh made by two of the sweetest teenagers in town.”
    Gina and Jeremy groaned at his silly pun but quickly joined the fun of tempting customers to buy more than they’d come for. After all, this was a fund-raiser.
    As the temperature climbed, the concession hopped with thirsty customers. People swarmed the grounds of the plantation. The wholesome, relaxed atmosphere brought out families and children to enjoy the myriad activities for a good cause. Hamburgers and barbecue scented the air. Laughter drifted through the enormous trees. Rachel’s concerns about the heat proved unwarranted.
    Eric was squirting mustard on a hot dog when he heard a customer say, “Miss Harcourt, would you mind taking a picture with me?”
    Sam, busy scooping ice into cups, stiffened. If he hadn’t been standing next to her, her sweet perfume mesmerizing him, Eric would never have been aware of her reaction. Her million-dollar smile beamed at the admirer.
    “I’d love to have a picture with you.” She dried her hands. “But this is a fund-raising event, you know. Everything has a price.”
    Eric bit back a bark of surprised laughter. Now, that was one smart lady.
    For a second, the fan was taken aback but then she handed her camera to her husband. “What a great idea.”
    “In fact, why don’t we get both of you in this? Eric can snap the photo.” Sam ducked outside the booth and stood between the couple while Eric pressed the shutter and collected the money. Sam promised to autograph the developed photo.
    When the couple left, someone else appeared. “Are you taking pictures with your fans?”
    “For a price.” Mischief danced in Sam’s eyes.
    Within moments, the grounds were buzzing with word that Samantha Harcourt was taking photos with anyone willing to pay the fee. A line formed outside the concession.
    “You’ve created a monster,” Eric said as he fielded cameras while Sam posed and the kids hawked sodas and hot dogs.
    Ben and Leah Cavanaugh strolled by, pushing baby Joseph in a stroller. When their daughter, Olivia, saw what was happening, she insisted on a photo, too. Sam knelt beside the little girl and hugged her. Olivia, lively and bright, was thrilled.
    “Wait till I tell Daniel,” she squealed, mentioning Andrew and Miranda Jones’s young son. “He’ll be so