The Fatal Funnel Cake by Livia J. Washburn Page A

yes. But then when the time actually comes, I just dread it and don’t want to go.”
    â€œBut when you go ahead, you wind up enjoyin’ yourself, don’t you?”
    â€œWell . . . usually,” Phyllis admitted.
    â€œThat’s the way this’ll be,” Sam said confidently. “You’ll get there and you’ll have a fine time. Just keep tellin’ yourself that.”
    â€œI’ll try,” Phyllis said.
    Traffic cooperated, so it was only twelve thirty when they reached the fairgrounds. Phyllis was supposed to be at the broadcast set at one o’clock, so that gave them plenty of time to park and walk into the grounds. The fair was busy, even though it was the middle of the week.
    Carolyn pointed at several school buses in the parking lot and said in an ominous tone, “Field trips.”
    â€œI know,” Phyllis said. “That sight brings up a lot of memories.”
    â€œAnd not good ones, for the most part.”
    Eve said, “I’m just glad we didn’t have to worry about that in high school. The seniors always took a trip somewhere, but it wasn’t like what the elementary schools did. I suppose the administration thought that by the time the kids were in high school, they were getting enough of an outside education on their own.”
    â€œThat’s sure the truth,” Sam said.
    Peggy said, “You know, I sort of envy the four of you, having all those shared experiences with the schools. Me, I helped my husband run his furniture stores. I don’t have any old furniture store buddies.”
    Carolyn patted her cousin on the shoulder. “We’ll be your buddies, Peggy.”
    â€œYeah, while you’re here. But what happens when the fair is over and you go back to Weatherford?”
    â€œWell . . . we could come and visit again. Or you could come and visit us.”
    â€œPeople say they’ll do things like that, but we all know that when the time comes, they usually don’t.”
    â€œThis will be different,” Carolyn said. “You’ll see.”
    Peggy didn’t seem convinced, but she didn’t say any more about it.
    As they approached the Creative Arts Building, Phyllis spotted a familiar figure standing to one side of the entrance. Gloria Kimball was as sleekly blond and beautiful as ever as she stood there with a microphone in her hand. Her bearded, shaggy-looking cameraman had his video camera balanced on his shoulder as he pointed it at her. The two of them were probably recording another segment for the local TV station, Phyllis thought.
    As she and the others started into the building, a woman’s voice suddenly called, “Mrs. Newsom! Wait just a minute!” Phyllis looked over in surprise and saw Gloria Kimball walking quickly toward her, followed by the cameraman. Gloria went on, “Mrs. Newsom, could I have just a minute of your time?”
    Surprised that Gloria Kimball even knew who she was, Phyllis was a little flustered as she stopped. Her friends came to a halt as well. Phyllis always tried to be polite unless someone gave her a reason not to be, so she said, “Well, I suppose so. But only a minute. I have to be somewhere.”
    â€œOf course you do,” Gloria said with the same sort of smile usually sported by Joye Jameson. TV personalities seemed to be able to summon the expression at a second’s notice. Phyllis wondered if their cheeks and jaws sometimes ached from smiling so much, or if they got used to it. “I’m sure you’re a very busy woman, since you’re famous now.”
    â€œOh, I’m not—”
    â€œWhat else could you call it when you’ve created the best funnel cake at the State Fair of Texas? Don’t be modest, Mrs. Newsom. That’s quite an accomplishment. I’m Gloria Kimball, by the way.”
    Carolyn said, “Oh, we know who you are. We used to watch you every day on
Gloria’s