By the end of the two hours, the twins were tired and whiny, my back hurt from lugging three oddly shaped soda bottles around, and Phoenix was missing. When he didn’t turn up at the ticket booth as instructed, Pa led us on a hunt that took us to all of Phoenix’s favorite places. When those were a bust, we followed Pa around to the edge of the fairgrounds, where the haunted house, the mirror maze, and other oddities were set up. It was darker in that area too, except for one attraction.

A sparkly purple tent strung with a million twinkling lights drew us to it like moths to a flame. Two flaps were rolled back to reveal a round table dressed in black velvet with a crystal ball perched in the center. The glow of it caught my eye first, but then I noticed the two people occupying the table. Plain ordinary Peg sat in a chair across from a dazzling fortune-teller.

“Look, Pa.” I pointed. “Peg’s at the fortune-teller’s tent.”

“That boy,” Pa muttered while leading the group over to the table where Peg seemed to be in deep conversation with the woman. “Peg, what in tarnation are you doing?” Pa tipped his head at the fortune-teller, who was draped in glittery robes and wearing a fantastic beaded head wrap I couldn’t wait to tell Mama about. “Sorry for any trouble my son has caused you, ma’am. How much do I owe you?” He began to pull out his wallet.

“A lot,” Peg spoke up. “I want Foxy to be my souvenir. I ain’t even gonna be mad no more ’bout not winnin’ a fish so long as I get to have her.”

All eyes turned to the stunning woman. Her dark face glowed from the twinkling lights and her iridescent makeup, but her expression remained neutral. The air shifted, taking the scent of popcorn and earth with it, revealing a heady spice that swirled around us. It was exotic and new compared to the plainness of country living we were familiar with, so I knew it was a part of this woman as much as the silk material wrapping her head.

Pa apologized to her again before giving Peg a stern look. “Son, a souvenir is like those bottles Ox has or a stuffed animal or something. Not a human. And it’s rude to even suggest that. You owe —” Pa read the sign leaning against the table —“Mrs. Deveraux an apology.”

The fortune-teller waved a hand dismissively. “Phoenix has been perfectly fine. And please call me Foxy.” Her voice was hypnotic with a different drawl than our Carolina twang. It was deep with a confident authority yet feminine enough to be alluring, and it made me wonder if it was part of her act. The twins seemed to be just as entranced as the rest of us and took several steps to get closer to her.