“They stop next to the park entrance. We can inquire if anyone saw Ginger,” she said.
It was a split second before he grasped what she’d said. “Good plan.” He might have to start reminding himself who her father was, just to keep his thoughts in order.
“Right there.” She pointed toward an opening left by a car backing out. “Park right there.”
After parking the truck, Ty walked around to hold open her door as she climbed out. Once again he let her do most of the talking, commenting only when the ticket man also gave him a lengthy stare. The man had already said he hadn’t seen any of the Nightingale sisters, so Ty thanked him and took Norma Rose’s arm, leading her toward the amusement park.
That, too, held the ticket man’s attention. He almost flipped right out of his little red booth, craning to stare as they walked away.
The Plantation nightclub, a tall white building with huge pillars at the front, was barely a block away. “Ever been there?” Ty asked.
“Years ago,” she said, “but I’ll never step foot through the door again.”
“Pretty set in your ways, aren’t you?”
“Very,” she said.
Out of curiosity, wondering how she’d respond, he curled his fingers around her gloved ones to guide her past a puddle in the sandy walkway. There was definitely caution in her eyes, but she didn’t pull away, not even after they’d entered the amusement park.
“Where’s the cotton candy?” he asked. They needed to talk to Twyla’s friend and head home. His instincts were saying he was getting too curious about Norma Rose. That he was wondering about too many things that didn’t have a place in his life, and had absolutely nothing to do with the whereabouts of her sister.
Once again, onlookers stared. His back teeth clenched. Norma Rose didn’t have two heads, or a beard, or anything else that should have people gawking at her like she was a circus sideshow.
“The cotton candy is over by the Ferris wheel.”
Her whisper made Ty glance down. She had her head bowed and her shoulders hunched, as if trying to make herself as small as possible, and red blotches covered her cheeks. Ire rippled his spine. He could shoot nasty glares at all those staring at them, but that wouldn’t make her feel any better.
Rather than acknowledging her obvious discomfort, he gestured toward a row of carnival games. “I haven’t seen one of those in ages.”
“One of what?” she asked, barely lifting her head.
“The bell-ringing machine.” Tugging on her hand, he said, “Come on, I’ll win you a prize.”
Chapter Eight
“We aren’t here to win prizes,” she whispered. “We’re here to look for Ginger.”
“And to act like we aren’t looking for her.” They weren’t going to find Ginger here, he was sure. She’d run away on her own, and didn’t want to be found. If she’d wanted to be found and had run away just for attention, she’d have left clues about where to look for her. She hadn’t. Therefore, unless someone contacted the resort, saying they knew where she was, Ty doubted they’d find her. Instinct again.
His other instincts said Norma Rose’s distress wasn’t because she was out in public with him. It had something to do with the Plantation or Forrest Reynolds. That might be another mystery he’d need to solve. When the time was right—which wasn’t today, or even this week. Running around looking for Ginger meant taking time out from setting up a snare to catch Bodine.
Ty led Norma Rose to the bell game and handed over the requested coin before he hoisted the rubber mallet. Hitting the base was an art he’d mastered at the amusement park in New York as a kid. It wasn’t to do with strength as much as it was hitting the balanced plate in the right spot. Unless someone had added weights to rig the game, or put a lock on the lever the puck traveled on, this one had the same sweet spot as every other one made.
After assuring Norma Rose was safely at the side, Ty raised the hammer over his head and let it fall on the spot he knew so well. The red puck shot up the lever and hit the bell with a resounding clang.
The little squeal Norma Rose let out as she clapped her gloved hands together excited Ty more than the echoing bell.
“You won,” she said, grinning brightly. “You won!”
Dressed like a sailor, complete with hat, the carny said, “He sure enough did.” Reaching into a box near his feet, he held up a doll that looked a lot like him. “Won a sailor Kewpie doll.”
Ty glanced at the miniature doll. Some might call it cute, but in reality, it looked cheaper than a wooden nickel. He pointed toward the shelf of snow globes inside the man’s little wooden shack. “How many times do I have to hit it to win one of those?” He’d brought home a snow globe of the Eiffel Tower to his mother when he’d returned from the war. She’d treasured it.
“Five times in a row,” the man answered. “A clam will give you five chances.”
Ty handed over a dollar bill and when the man stepped to move behind the machine, arm out, Ty shook his head. The man hunched his shoulders and stayed where he stood. The machine was rigged all right, and Ty had just stopped the carny from flipping the switch.
He hoisted the hammer over his shoulder. Five solid hits later, Ty took the snow globe the man reluctantly handed over and gave it to Norma Rose as they walked away.
“It’s beautiful,” she said.
“That’s Niagara Falls,” he told her, pointing out the waterfall scene inside the glass.
“How do you know?”
“I’ve seen it,” he said. “Many times.”
“Is it this beautiful?”
Holding the globe with both hands, she gazed into it with a rather awestruck expression. He was momentarily thunderstruck by how young and innocent she looked. And beautiful.
She lifted those amazing blue eyes to him. “Is it?”
His mouth had gone dry, and he tried to gather enough moisture to speak. “It’s far more beautiful in person,” he said, suddenly realizing he wasn’t just talking about Niagara Falls.
The rapture in those blue eyes once again turned to the globe, but not before the back of Ty’s neck grew hot. Pulling at his collar, he said, “Let’s find that cotton candy booth.”
It was only a few yards away. The booth had the longest line in the park and was made up primarily of young men dressed in stylish, colorful shirts and flat, tweed driving hats. The closer he and Norma Rose got to the booth, the more he understood why those boys were lined up. The girl selling cotton candy was more dolled up than those girls visiting speakeasies on Saturday nights.
“Is that your sister’s friend?” he asked.
“Yes, that’s Mitsy,” Norma Rose answered. “Her father owns the local drugstore.”
“That explains a lot.”
She glanced up at him, frowning.
He’d been thinking aloud, confirming his inner belief that Roger Nightingale would not encourage or allow his daughters to be friends with a girl who dressed like that. The low-cut neckline of her pink dress exposed as much skin as in the painting of the mermaid on the building behind her booth. The glitter in her eyes also hinted that Mitsy enjoyed male companionship. Searching for an answer to explain his statement to Norma Rose, he whispered, “She has on enough makeup for three women.”
“They sell cosmetics at the drugstore,” she answered.
The drugstores also needed alcohol to fill prescriptions. Ty didn’t say that aloud but it made sense. Mitsy’s father and Roger were business associates. That was why Roger allowed his daughters to associate with the man’s daughter, but Ty doubted Nightingale liked it.
“Norma Rose?” a screechy voice all but yelled. “Glory be!”
The long line of men dispersed, staring at them. Ty felt Norma Rose’s distress and placed a hand in the small of her back, ushering her past the young men.
“Imagine seeing you here,” Mitsy continued, “with a man, no less.”
Ty had to forcefully pull his back teeth apart.
“Hello
, Mitsy,” Norma Rose said.
Though she sounded causal and more in control than he felt, he sensed how hard Norma Rose fought to maintain her composure.
“Oh, look, you have a snow globe,” Mitsy squealed. “No one ever wins one of those.”
Misty’s hair was dyed the same shade of red as Twyla’s. Some might think it made her look cute. To Ty, it made her look like trouble. “I won the snow globe for Norma Rose,” he said, laying a coin on the ledge. “And now I want to buy her some cotton candy. You do sell that, don’t you?”
“Of course,” she answered, all giggly. “I was just so surprised to see Norma Rose.” Mitsy plunked a stick wrapped with spun sugar off the holder and handed it through the waist-high opening of her booth. “Did you give Twyla a ride to town?” Frowning, she added, “She called and said there was something wrong with her car.”
“No, Twyla’s not with us,” Norma Rose said. “She can’t make it to town today.”
Groans echoed from the men around them, and one by one, they started walking away.
“What?” Mitsy asked. “Can’t make it?”
Ty’s nerves twitched at the men’s mumbling, which had nothing to do with cotton candy.
“Because Ginger’s still mad at me, you won’t let Twyla come to town?” Mitsy continued snootily. “Is that what this is all about?”
“Why is Ginger mad at you?” Norma Rose asked.
“I don’t know,” Misty sniffed. “She acts like I stole her boyfriend or something. Like she’s ever had one. Everyone knows the Nightingale girls don’t date, ever since—”
“What are you and Twyla up to this time?” Norma Rose interrupted.
Ty wanted to hear the answer, but more than that he wanted to know what Misty had been about to refer to. That had put a pinch in Norma Rose’s lips.
“Nothing,” Mitsy said, obviously lying.
Looking for Ginger here was a waste of time, and this young girl—several years younger than Twyla—was trouble with a capital T. Ty took Norma Rose’s arm. “Let’s go.”
Norma Rose agreed with a nod, after shooting Mitsy one final glower.
Ty guided her around the booth, in the direction that several of the young men had gone. “Wait right here for a minute,” he said, handing her the cotton candy. This had nothing to do with Ginger, but his curiosity was too great.
She took the candy in her free hand. “Why?”
“I’ll tell you in a minute.” Ty hurried to catch up with two of the men. A moment later he had the information he needed and as he walked back to Norma Rose, he contained a chuckle. She had her hands full with her sisters, that was for sure.
“What are you shaking your head about?” she asked.
He took her elbow and gestured toward the parking lot with his chin.
“What did they say?”
“Aren’t you going to eat that?” he asked, instead of answering, pointing at the cotton candy. There were too many people still watching, and he wasn’t sure what her reaction might be. “Or don’t you like it?”
She tore her eyes away from the men he’d spoken to and sighed. “I like cotton candy, but...” She held up both hands, showing they were both occupied.
He took the snow globe. She just sighed again.
“What?”
“I can’t eat cotton candy with gloves on. They’ll get all sticky.”
“Take them off.”
“I can’t. My hands are blue, remember?”
He laughed. “That’s right. The ink pen.”
“The ink pen,” she repeated.
He tore a chunk of sugar fluff off the paper tube and plopped it in her mouth before she could protest. Before he thought about the repercussions.
Her eyes were round as coins, and rather bedazzled-looking.
To cover up the way his fingers tingled from having touched her lips, he plucked up another chunk of fluff and popped it into his mouth. “It’s good,” he said. “Fresh.”
She nodded. “Cotton candy doesn’t last long. It gets watery and tough.”
“Yes, it does,” he agreed. “Want some more?”
“No, thank you.”
He wondered if him feeding her that candy had affected her as much as it had him. He’d felt something deep down, where things normally didn’t go, places he kept locked up for good reasons...and always would.
They walked in silence past the various booths, with people still watching their every step. He’d worked hard last week to gain the information he had about the resort, Roger and all four of his daughters, and the curious stares confirmed exactly what he’d assumed. Lips were tight, very tight, when it came to the resort and the Nightingale family.
As they once again maneuvered around the mud puddle in the center of the trail near the entrance, she asked, “What did those men tell you?”
She’d learn about it sooner or later, so he said, “It seems your sister Twyla and Mitsy have a little side business going on.”
“A side business? What are you talking about?”
“They run a booth here on Saturday afternoons.”
“Twyla sells cotton candy with Mitsy?”
“No,” he answered.
“Then what?”
They’d arrived at his truck and he opened her door. Once she was seated, he handed her the snow globe. She was still waiting for him to answer, but he just shut the door and walked around to the driver’s side. There was hope on her face, hope that cotton candy was all those two girls were selling.
After he’d climbed in and started the engine, she asked, “What are they up to now?”
“Now? Have they done things in the past?”
“Too many things to even talk about,” she said. “I’m sure you noticed their red hair.” When he nodded, she added, “That was last month.”
“How old is Twyla?”
“Twenty-three,” Norma Rose answered with a heavy sigh. “But she says as long as father treats her like a child, she’s going to act like one.”
“She has a point,” Ty said.
Norma Rose’s gaze turned thoughtful for a moment. Then, leaning her head against the back window, she tilted it his way. “What are they doing now?”
Withholding the desire to take her hand, just to give her a touch of comfort, he started the truck. “They’re running a kissing booth.”
“A what?”
“A kissing booth. You know—”
“I know,” she snapped.
“Only charging a dime.”
He could have sworn she cursed beneath her breath, while he was ready to laugh out loud. For as hard as Roger Nightingale tried, he was creating delinquents rather than daughters. Other than Norma Rose, of course. The man should recognize that she was so responsible because he allowed her to be, and that her sisters weren’t because he didn’t give them any responsibility.
It really was none of his business. Not the way Nightingale raised his daughters, or how unfair he felt it was for Norma Rose to be responsible for those girls. Having backed out of the parking spot, Ty shifted gears and headed toward the main road.
Norma Rose leaned her head against the window again. “Good heavens.”
Taking one hand off the wheel, he took the cotton candy from her hand. “Take your gloves off. I’ve already seen your blue hands, and you’re going to need this sugar to keep up with your sisters.”
“What do you mean by that?”
He laughed. “I wasn’t implying you aren’t sweet enough. Sugar gives you energy.”
She set the snow globe between them and pulled off both gloves before taking the cotton candy. After eating a few mouthfuls, she reached over and fed him one. “You’re going to need the energy, too. We still haven’t found Ginger.”
By the time they’d arrived at the resort there was nothing left of the cotton candy. He’d eaten several more mouthfuls, pulling them off himself, half-afraid she’d feed him more if he didn’t. There was something too intimate about the gesture. He didn’t do intimacy.
Didn’t have time for anything that might put warmth in his heart. It had been cold too long, and needed to stay that way.
He wouldn’t know who he was without the bitter chill inside him.
“Do me a favor,” Norma Rose said as he pulled into the parking lot.
Having laid the empty paper cone on the floorboard, she was pulling on her gloves, covering up her blue hands. Once again, Ty fought a smile. “What’s that?”
“Don’t tell my father about the kissing booth. He has enough on his mind.”
Shutting off the engine, he asked, “You do that a lot?”
“What?”
“Cover up for your sisters? For your father?”
A hint of sadness clouded the bright blue of her eyes. “Yes,” she said. “That’s what I’m here for.”
Ty no longer wanted to smile, nor could he deny the pang he felt in the center of his chest.
* * *
Norma Rose turned her gaze to the resort building sitting before the truck as her answer repeated itself in her head. That’s what she was here for. To cover everything up, the things she couldn’t make go away. It had never seemed that way, yet today, right now, she knew that was her real purpose. The heaviness that admission created was almost painful.
She pushed out a sigh, but it didn’t help. She grabbed the door handle. “Let’s go and see if they discovered anything in our absence.”
Ty was at her door before she opened it, and held it wide as she picked up the snow globe with one hand and reached down for the now empty cotton candy tube with the other. It had been years since she’d eaten cotton candy, and she’d forgotten how it melted as soon as it touched her tongue.
“Leave that,” he said. “I’ll throw it away later.”
Considering people were already going to question her whereabouts, she left the paper on the floor and then returned the snow globe to the seat before climbing out.
“Not this,” Ty said, retrieving the globe.
“That’s yours,” she said.
“I won it for you,” he said.
The Bootlegger's Daughter (Daughters Of The Roaring Twenties Book 1) Page 11
