Summer Magic

Chapter One

"Mr. Figaro, where are you?" Lisa Prentice muttered anxiously under her breath.
 
Her gaze flicked from face to face in the busy airport terminal.
 
No one looked familiar.

She checked her watch.
 
Her plane had arrived right on time--actually, several minutes late.
 
So why wasn't he here? Indecision swamped her.
 
Should she hurry to the luggage claim area, pick up her bags, and call a cab?
 
Or stay put? She remembered what Ed Figaro had written:

She peered out the floor-to-ceiling window through a slanting sheet of rain.
 
The run-way glistened in the downpour.
 
Slate against gray.
 
The endless span of wet concrete seemed to meld into the equally gray horizon.

"Nauseating situation, eh?" a man with an English accent said as he followed her gaze.

"Hopefully nothing more than a brief summer squall," Lisa answered politely.
 
"I understand
rain's
rare in southern California."

He nodded in agreement.
 
"I'm here to meet my great-niece.
 
Traffic was beastly on the interstate--
"
 
He
broke off suddenly.
 
"Ah, there she is now!"

"Uncle Ralph!" A pretty young woman wearing a tailored white blouse and a navy blue mini-skirt let out a squeal, elbowed her way through the crowd and enveloped him in a hug.

"Have a good visit," Lisa said wistfully as they hurried away, arm in arm.

Their happy reunion only underscored her impatience. Surely Ed Figaro would appear any minute now, she told herself as she sank into the nearest available seat. Undoubtedly he'd gotten stalled in the “beastly” traffic the man with the English accent had just described.

She felt weary.
 
Bone weary.
 
And her head had begun to pound.
 
Her flight from LaGuardia Airport had seemed to take forever.
 
Electrical storms.
 
Crying babies.
 
And now, no Mr. Figaro.

"Today is the first day of the rest of your life." The familiar refrain echoed inside her head.
 
A new beginning.
Ever since she'd been a little girl, she'd dreamed of running away with the circus.
 
And now she had a
real
reason for running.
 
She swallowed hard.
The big question is
,
will it all work out?

The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted from the cappuccino cart on the opposite side of the wide corridor. Though it was tempting to indulge herself, she quickly dismissed the notion.
 
Her nerves were already stretched to the limit and caffeine might only worsen her headache.

She continued to eye the steady stream of people. Edward Figaro.
 
A picture of the head animal trainer at Jessell and Stern took form in her mind.
 
Despite what he'd said in the letter, she knew she'd have no difficulty recognizing him.
 
Mid-fiftyish.
 
Snowy white hair and a smile nearly as large as the big top itself.

Today's journey had all started when Dr. Joseph Woodstock, the veterinarian who traveled with the circus, had written to her.
 
He was seeking a competent veterinary assistant, his letter explained.
 
Though the job would pay well, it involved many long, hard hours and sometimes unpleasant circumstances.
 
Would Lisa be interested?

Over a year earlier Lisa had helped save a critically ill Arabian horse named Ebony while the circus was on a five-week lay-over in Madison Square Garden.
 
After watching a show, Lisa had unexpectedly come across the circus vet in the back lot.
 
He was attempting to medicate the uncooperative mare suffering from an abscessed wound.

Lisa had quickly introduced herself, given him her business card,
then
offered her assistance.
 
Ed Figaro's only son, an aerialist by the name of Michael, had been helping out too. After the crisis was over, he'd lingered a while to show her around.
 
It hadn't taken Lisa long to determine that Michael was an incorrigible flirt.

Given to impulse--a trait that in the past had been both Lisa’s salvation and her bane--she'd responded to the vet's offer of employment with an unequivocal yes.

Only later had her misgivings seeped in.
 
When the veterinarian spoke of hard work and long hours, she knew he wasn't mincing words.
 
Granted, at first glimpse, traveling with the circus sounded romantic and glamorous, but she realized the work could be demanding.
 
There would be times, she was
certain,
they would be hard pressed to attend to all the animals that needed their care.
 
What was more, Lisa's quick assessment of the circus vet that day told her he might not always be easy to please.
 
She couldn't help wondering whether she'd be his first assistant or merely one of many others who'd come before her--others who hadn't managed to stay in his good graces.

But where else could she bring in the kind of money the circus veterinarian was willing to pay?
 
Though Doc Largent, the small-town vet on Long Island whom Lisa worked for, was like a father to her, he could never afford to match the wages Jessell and Stern had promised.
 
And goodness only knew
,
her debts were mounting with each passing month.

She looked up.
 
Michael!

His grin widened as he drew closer.
 
He ruffled her short-cropped, chestnut-colored hair.
 
"Good to see you again, Lisa."

"I...I was expecting your father, not you."

"Disappointed?"
 
He sent her a crooked smile.

"Oh, no..."
 
Why was he flustering her so?
 
"You just caught me off guard.
 
That's all."
 
Her pulse raced.
 
Too much stress, she thought.
 
The past two weeks had been filled with frenetic preparations--giving notice to her landlord, packing, selling her car, making arrangements to store her furniture and other belongings.

He winked.
 
"Looking good, Lisa."

She bit her lip, uncertain how to respond.
 
She wasn't ready for the likes of him--nor any other man, for that matter.

Yet to her astonishment, she realized she'd been sizing him up too.
 
His hair, the color of winter wheat, was perhaps a little lighter than she remembered.
 
It hung thickly, almost touching his collar.
 
His muscular forearms were tanned, showing off his corded tendons.
 
The fabric of his black T-shirt strained over taut chest muscles.

She heaved a sigh.
 
"I need to find a place where I can buy more aspirin."
 
Hopefully it wouldn't be long till they arrived at the circus grounds, and she wouldn't have to deal with him anymore.

"Yes."
 
She offered the first explanation that came to mind.
 
"I never seemed to get them before the snowboarding accident."

 
He nodded.
 
"If I remember right, you'd just finished your physical therapy a few weeks before we met at Madison Square Garden.
 
How're you doing now?"

"I'm fine."
 
She smiled.
 
"In some ways, that seems so long ago.
 
Back then, I'd just been working for Doc Largent about a week."
 
During the short time between graduation from community college and her first day on the job, she'd gambled unwisely and tried to get along without health insurance.

Then came the afternoon she'd crashed on the ski slopes and suffered a fractured femur and internal injuries.
 
Though she'd recovered, the medical bills had been staggering.
 
Too proud to accept financial assistance from her older brother in Wyoming--her only living blood relative--she doggedly determined to pay off the debt as quickly as possible.

"I hope you haven't been waiting too long," he said as he hefted her carry-on bag over his shoulder and started walking.
 
"Traffic was outrageous.
 
I guess I underestimated my time."
 
His gait was loose and carefree, with the easy agility of a trained athlete.

"I've been here a little while...but no harm.
 
Just figured the nasty weather slowed things up."
 
She hurried to match his stride as they continued down the long corridor, weaving their way through a crush of travelers.

He slowed some, waiting for her to catch up.
 
"Pop sends his apologies he couldn't come for you himself.
 
One of the leopards has a respiratory infection and Pop promised Doc Woodstock he'd give him a hand."
 
He pointed straight ahead. "Let's check out that magazine stand.
 
They probably sell aspirin there.
 
Better yet, sit down and relax while I do it."