Summer Magic by Sydell Voeller

temperatures hovering at nearly one hundred.   Her T-shirt clung to her, moist and clammy.

    Most of the time, in hot, humid climates, she wore cut-off jeans or shorts, cotton T-shirts, and sandals--just as she had today.   Now she could hardly wait for a refreshing shower and the chance to change.

    "Hi there, Lisa!"   Michael's mother waved as she stepped outside the motor home.   "Got a minute?"   One of her show poodles, Rag's sister, was tucked into the crook of her arm.

    "Hello, Mrs. Figaro!"   Lisa waved back.

    Off to one side, three young children rode tricycles, causing swirls of dust to rise up about them.

    Mrs. Figaro was dark-haired, pretty, and petite, much like Estelle.   She smiled warmly.   "What's with this Mrs. Figaro business?   I've already given you permission to call me Olivia."

    "All right.   Olivia it is."

    "I'm fixing fried chicken tonight," Olivia went on, shading her eyes against the sun.   "Would you like to stop by later tonight to join the girls and myself?"   She hesitated, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.   "Or are you and Michael going to fix something to eat at his place again?"

    "I...I'm not sure yet.   But fried chicken sounds wonderful.   I'll try to make it."   She smiled her appreciation.

    Actually, she and Michael had only shared a meal at his trailer a few times.   Though Lisa was eager to get to know Michael's mother better, she didn't relish the possibility of having to face Claudette again--especially not after their confrontation back in Galveston.

    Lisa unlocked Estelle's trailer and stepped inside. Rags greeted her, wagging his tail and nipping at her ankles.

    "Hello, you poor thing," Lisa said as she ducked down to scratch the poodle under his chin.   "How can you stand this heat on a day like today?"

    The dog gave an excited bark as Lisa started rummaging through the small closet she and Estelle shared in search of her most cool tank top.

    Unexpectedly she spotted Claudette's oversized green blouse on a heap at the bottom.   It was finally time to take action.   Either she'd have to throw it away or deliver it back to Claudette.

    Remembering a large Dumpster behind the north wall of the auditorium, she decided to discard it there.   She showered and dressed quickly, then placed the blouse in a brown shopping bag and crossed the lot towards the Dumpster.

    The evening show was in full swing.   She paused to linger by the open back door of the auditorium.   Music drifted from inside.   Hot dog vendors worked the side aisles, while men, women, and children stared in awe at the kaleidoscope of activity inside the three rings.

    It'd been nearly two weeks since she'd attended a performance, she realized.   She adored watching the Flying Figaros, especially Michael.   And the opportunities had been far too seldom. She took a front-row seat in the section reserved for the press and circus personnel, then settled back.   In the center ring, Claudette was perched on top of a trapeze, balancing with both feet.

    "Claudette's been working hard on her solo act," she remembered Michael telling her.   Hopefully Lisa wasn't too late to see him too.

    “Have the Flying Figaro's already performed?" she asked a man with a red beard who was holding an iPad and sitting next to her.

    "Yes," he answered.   "They finished about five minutes ago."

    "Just my luck," Lisa muttered.

    "What did you say?"   He peered at her through Coke-bottle glasses.

    "What I mean is," she amended, "I...I always seem to miss the best part."

    "Maybe not.   Watch this chick.   She's sharp."

    As Lisa looked on, she knew she had to agree.   Dressed in a neon blue sequin-studded leotard, Claudette looked stunning.

    Yet Lisa sensed something was wrong.   Claudette's stance appeared unsteady.   Her normal smile of confidence missing. In an instant, her knees buckled.   Her arms started to flail. Then she tumbled downward.   A gasp rose from the audience.

    "Close