“About halfway through, we left and bought the squirt guns.” Tyler wiped his glasses down the front of his shirt. “You know, making a convincing puppet of a horse is just really hard.”

Claire whirled to the boys. “Okay, fellas, who’s up for the bumper cars?”

Caitlin reclaimed her spot at the table and took up her book.

The boys hooted their enthusiasm and squirted the runaway balloon still trapped on the ceiling.

Tyler rounded up the pint-sized combatants and waved off Richard’s offer to accompany him.

“Go eat cotton candy.” Claire gathered empty drink boxes and crushed them in one hand. “Richard, have you really never been here before?”

Glowering, Richard crammed the phone into his pocket. “Guilty as charged.”

“So, scram. Play mini golf. Ride the Cosmotron. Enjoy!”

With a grateful smile, Tessa snatched Richard’s hand and dragged him from the pavilion.

He scuffed beside her, launching clumps of gravel from the path. “I hate mini golf.”

She pecked his cheek. “Of course you do.”

Perpetually waterlogged and leaf-strewn, the mini golf course lay between the Wild Mouse Coaster and the shady stream bisecting the park. Skirting the course, the path ambled along the creek bank and led directly to the famous Benton’s Grove Rainbow Trout Bridge—a huge, colorful covered bridge in the shape of a trout.

Maybe a goofy pic would cheer him up. “Selfie in front of the fish?” His derisive snort rankled, setting her teeth on edge.

“Are you serious?”

She was absolutely serious. The Trout Bridge was legendary, and a pic with the fish was a summer rite of passage. Why was he so determined to trample her childhood memories? On the verge of snapping, she pictured that little boy, cowed by an overbearing father. She dropped back her head and stared into the leafy canopy studded with sky. Time to conjure some Benton’s Grove magic. Squeezing his fingers, she brought her lips to his ear. “For me?”

With a chuckle, he shied away.

Richard Bruce was definitely ticklish. Good to know.

He extracted his phone. “For you. But if you post this anywhere, we’re officially through.”

“Make sure you get the psychedelic lips,” she said through a wide smile.

He held his phone high and snapped.

“Text me the pic.”

He tapped the screen. “Done.”

“That’s going on my Christmas card,” she hissed and dashed into the belly of the beast. Clutching the graying railing, she leaned over and gazed at real-life rainbow trout hovering above mossy rocks below. A splinter of wood dug into one finger, and she jerked it away. Myriads of hand-carved, love messages traversed the railings and ran up the posts that comprised the fish’s ribs. She never had a steady high school beau and thus hadn’t watched as someone gouged her initials next to his. Honestly, she wouldn’t mind if Richard whipped out a penknife right then and there.