Half an hour passed. An hour. Then two. The mechanic didn’t arrive.

The setting sun scorched her face, and the skin on the bridge of her nose tightened and burned. His devotion to chivalry notwithstanding, Richard didn’t fork over his hat. Why hadn’t she brought her own?

In the next car below, a woman huddled with an arm around a skinny boy.

His face was mostly buried in the woman’s shoulder, but Tessa made out the hollow curve of one pale cheek.

The woman snuggled him and glanced upward.

Concern hardened her angular features. Smiling, Tessa offered an encouraging wave.

The woman gave a half-hearted wave in return.

She sighed. “Guess I should have had that third piece of cake. Maybe they could throw nuts from the roof of the Peanut Shack.”

“What the bloody hell are they doing down there?” Richard ripped off his cap and punched the crown. “Where are the fire truck and the ambulance?”

A tight nugget of anger rose in her throat like a ball in one of those vacuum-powered lottery machines on TV. Her lips were cracked, her thighs were stuck to the seat, she desperately had to use the bathroom, and, worst of all, her new boyfriend concealed a secret fiancée for weeks. The whole situation was too much to bear. “You know, your attitude really isn’t helping.”

With a snort, he jammed on his hat. “My deepest apologies.”

“What is your problem? I don’t like being trapped here either, but at least I’m not being a jerk.”

Staring straight ahead, he bounced his right knee, shimmying the entire gondola. “If you hadn’t insisted on riding this piece of junk—”

“Oh, sure. The Ferris wheel breaking is clearly my fault—”

“—we wouldn’t be stuck up here.”

Yup, he blamed her. She knew it. “So, sue me for wanting to have fun.” Ignoring the altitude, she whirled. “Look, I get it—for whatever reason, you hate Benton’s Grove. You made that perfectly clear from the second we arrived. Well, not that you care, but I love it here, and I was excited to share it with you. This place has charm, which maybe you think is entirely your department, Dr. Bruce, but trust me, you’re not showing much today.”

He sat up with such force, the gondola lurched again.

A queasy wave washed over her.

“I don’t see charm. I see dirt.” He pointed a rigid finger at the Peanut Shack. “The trash on that roof down there and the trailer park next to the pool.”

She widened her eyes. Was he always so judgmental? “It’s not a trailer park; it’s a campground. Maybe Benton’s is tacky, but that’s how it’s always been. That’s what makes it my place.”

“Well, it sure as hell isn’t mine.”