Peggy Dulle - Liza Wilcox 02 - Apple Pots and Funeral Plots by Peggy Dulle

death, too.”
    “I think you’re stretching for an answer. As far as I know, Sally and James’s deaths were accidental. Just bad luck.”
    “To both husband and wife?”
    “Sometimes tragedies happen like that. I know quite a few people who’ve lost their parents within months of each other. And there isn’t any good reason why.”
    “I know.” I tilted my head and pleaded, “But would you check the files anyway?”
    “Sure,” he said, sighing. “I’ll see what I can find out.”
    “Thanks.” I put my hand on his arm. “I really appreciate it.”
    “So, where are you headed now?”
    “Back to the fairgrounds to check out some of the booths.”
    “I better go and get a sign to warn others about the unstable ground around this hole.”
    “Great idea. Some poor unsuspecting person might accidentally fall in.”
    We both laughed, and Shelby and I walked back to Kate’s car. Jimmy took off and I drove into the massive parking lot next to the fairgrounds. There was quite a collection of cars, from old junk heaps to several stretch black limousines. Who takes a limousine to a festival?
    I walked the two blocks over to the fairgrounds. Booths surrounded the area on three sides, with the carnival in the middle. The fourth side was reserved for the eating contest tables and food stands. Behind them was a huge tent. This festival was at least five or six times bigger than the Gainsville Spring Festival I’d attended a few months earlier. Luckily the clowns and mimes were nowhere to be found. Apparently, they were only for the parade, thank God!
    I’d never seen so many booths selling one particular product before. Apple pots were everywhere. They came in a multitude of colors and designs, but all were basically the same form. A few had more elaborate handles on them, but for the most part they were exactly the same size and shape. All contained a three-by-five-inch card with the recipe for apple cobbler.
    The first booth had homemade jams and jellies and - surprise-surprise - apple pots. I walked up and picked up a jar of apricot jelly.
    A lady wearing a blue apron headed over. “Is that your favorite kind of jelly?”
    “Yes.”
    She smiled broadly and nodded. “Usually people pick up their favorite one first. Are you here all week for the contests or just for the day?”
    “Oh, I’ll probably be here all week.”
    “Great.” She reached into the pocket of her apron and took out a biscuit. “Can your dog have a treat?”
    “Of course, she’d love one. Just toss it in the air, she’ll get it.”
    The lady tossed the treat and Shelby snatched it right out of the air.
    “I see what you mean,” she said.
    “It’s the only way to feed her treats without losing a finger or two.” I laughed.
    The lady laughed too. “Would you like me to wrap up your jelly?”
    “Yes, please.” I handed her the jar and pointed around the fairground. “This is a huge festival.”
    As she wrapped the jar in newspaper, she said, “Yes, and it gets bigger each year.”
    “This is my first time. How long have you lived in Clainsworth?”
    “About ten years.”
    “What brought you here?”
    “I was tired of the rat race of the San Francisco Bay Area and wanted to go to a nice quiet town. I ended up here. It’s a great place to live.”
    “It sure looks nice and is kept so clean.”
    “That’s because of the apple pot money.” She pointed to the ones on her table. “Everyone in town has a booth and we all sell them because that’s what keeps the town alive.”
    “I’ve got a few already.”
    “Good.” She held up a purple apple pot. “Can’t have too many.”
    I waved her off. “No thanks, just the jam.”
    “Okay.”
    I glanced over and saw that three booths down was a booth for the library. “Even the library is here?”
    The lady frowned. “She doesn’t sell any apple pots.”
    “I guess they don’t really go with the books.”
    “Yeah, but she should be selling them, too.”
    “There’s