Free 1 Lost Under a Ladder by Linda O. Johnston Page A

officially show me around town one of these days.” What I didn’t say was that he could do his own job while I did mine, but I hoped he understood the underlying message.
    “All over town. See ya.” And he was gone.
    More customers walked in as he left. Before Millie and Jeri went to help the newcomers they both joined me.
    “Then you really are staying, Rory?” Jeri asked.
    “For now.”
    Jeri gave me a hug. Millie looked a little less thrilled but shot me a quick smile, then bent to give Pluckie the hug she hadn’t given me.
    _____
    Pluckie and I remained at the shop till seven o’clock, when it closed. Jeri stayed to show me how to lock up.
    Martha had called earlier and said she was being released from the hospital later this afternoon, in time to go to the Destiny Welcome event that night. I wasn’t sure what that was, but Jeri explained it was a weekly gala held for visitors and locals in the Break-a-Leg Theater next to City Hall. I was curious, but I was also tired after this long day. Even so, when Pluckie and I returned to the Rainbow B&B, Serina kicked me out again with the promise she’d watch Pluckie for me.
    “You really need to go to the Destiny Welcome tonight,” she told me. “It’s good luck for visitors to go there for the first performance while they’re here.” She said she’d given the same orders to all the B&B’s newly arrived guests.
    How could I tempt fate by not seeking that good luck with a show she’d said no one should miss?
    Besides, I thought I should go to see how Martha was doing.
    I dressed up a bit, putting on the nicest blouse I’d brought over the only skirt I had along, both silvery gray, plus open-toed shoes with heels.
    Like almost everything in town, Break-a-Leg Theater was within walking distance of the B&B. I was charmed by its golden art deco facade with rounded arches and a large glass doorway. I realized how popular the welcome show must be even before I reached the block housing the theater, since the sidewalks were even more crowded than I’d seen before. At least the line, though long, kept moving.
    There was a modest charge for entry. Most of the chattering people came in parties of two or more, including some I recognized as other guests at the B&B. Then there was me.
    When I finally got inside, I figured the theater must have been remodeled recently, since the seats didn’t look as old as the exterior and there were even places for the handicapped. Songs like “Superstition” and “Knock on Wood” played in the background.
    I saw a wheelchair near the front with a woman seated in it with familiar gray hair. But the show was about to start so I took the nearest seat—in the middle of a row near the back, after excusing my way there. If that was Martha, I’d say hi later.
    The lights were dimmed and the silky red and gold stage curtain opened. Unsurprisingly, Mayor Bevin Dermot walked out. What was surprising to me was that he actually wore a green sport jacket over his plaid pants. Did he know how much he resembled the leprechaun pin I’d seen him wearing and exploit it? Probably.
    “Hello, everyone,” he said into the microphone he held as he strutted along the stage in front of a platform raised behind him. “Welcome to the very special town of Destiny, California. As you all know, Destiny is the capital of all superstitions.”
    He proceeded to tell the history. Then he said, “I’d like to introduce you to the world’s foremost expert on superstitions, Mr. Kenneth Tarzal. He even wrote the best book ever published on the subject that is so near and dear to our hearts. Tarzal?”
    Tarzal entered from stage left. He wore a black suit with a white shirt. From here he looked serious and carried nothing until the mayor handed him the microphone. “It’s all yours,” he said. “And may all your luck be good.”
    Tarzal smiled, then made a gesture as if knocking on his own head—knocking on wood? “Hello, everyone.” He gestured grandly