Absolutely, Positively

traditionalist. In my family we tend to go for the unusual. Harry is definitely not the boy next door. He's one of a kind.”

    “You can say that again,” Evangeline grumbled. “Don't know how he turned out the way he did. His father was one of the most handsome men I've ever laid eyes on, and his mother looked like a fairy-tale princess. Something obviously went haywire when the two sets of genes combined.”

    Beads jangled softly.

    “Cut me some slack here, Aunt Evie.” Harry glided into the tent. “Can't you fake it a little on the tall, dark, and handsome bit? You owe me that much, at least.”

    Molly spun around in her chair, relieved to see him. “Hi, Harry.”

    “Hello.” Harry let the beaded curtain close behind him.

    Evangeline's eyes gleamed with amusement as she rose from her chair. “As I was just explaining to your friend, I never falsify these things. I have my professional standards to uphold. But I will concede that handsome is as handsome does, and beauty is in the eye of the beholder, et cetera.”

    Harry laughed. “How are you, Aunt Evie?”

    “The arthritis has been acting up again, but other than that, I can't complain. Good to see you. Josh said you were going to pay us a visit.” She walked around the table, arms outstretched, bells jingling.

    Harry accepted Evangeline's enveloping hug with equanimity.

    Molly tried to read his face in the gloom. As usual, his expression gave no clue to his feelings. It was impossible to tell how well the interview with his uncle had gone.

    Harry glanced at the stack of packages on the floor as his aunt released him. “Not hard to tell where Molly's been. I was afraid of this.”

    “I found some really terrific kitchen gadgets,” Molly said. “Wait until you see them. One slices carrots into cute little baskets, which you can fill with olives and things for an hors d'oeuvre tray. And there's another one that makes little boats out of cucumbers.”

    Harry's mouth kicked up at the corner. “When was the last time you felt an overpowering urge to make carrot baskets and cucumber boats?”

    Evangeline chuckled. “Don't tease her, Harry. I'm sure she'll enjoy her gadgets.”

    “Not likely. She's got a kitchen full of high-tech gadgetry that puts this stuff to shame.” He glanced at Molly with an indulgent expression. “I warned you not to get suckered by the sales pitches in the exhibition halls.”

    “Must you be so negative?” Molly retorted. “Not everyone is a con artist, you know.”

    Harry smiled coolly. “I'm not negative, I'm realistic.”

    “Sounds like the same thing to me. And for your information, I did not get taken in by fancy sales pitches,” Molly said. “I examined the products and watched the demonstrations. I liked what I saw, so I bought some of the items.”

    “Those hucksters sell nothing but useless junk. Everyone knows that.”

    “Hah. Every single item is guaranteed for life,” Molly informed him triumphantly.

    “Is that a fact? And just how are you going to collect on the guarantees?” Harry asked. “When the fair closes, the product demonstrators will vanish. And so will the guarantees.”

    Molly raised her eyes toward the heavens. “You know what your problem is, Harry? You think everyone in the whole world is out to deceive and defraud.”

    Evangeline looked at Harry. “You two know each other fairly well, I take it?”

    “I know Harry better than he thinks I do,” Molly said darkly.

    “We've known each other a month,” Harry told his aunt. “Molly has a lot to learn.”

    Evangeline chuckled. “Being the gifted seer that I am, I know who she is. But why don't you introduce us properly?”

    “Sorry about that,” Harry said. “Evangeline, meet Molly Abberwick. Molly, this is Evangeline Trevelyan. One of my aunts. Best fortune-teller in the family.”

    “Nice to meet you,” Molly said.

    “A pleasure.” Evangeline sat down at the table, picked up the cards, and reshuffled them. “Let me see, where were we?”

    “You were telling her that I was tall, dark, and ugly, I believe.” Harry pulled aside a heavy bit of drapery at the back of the tent. He plucked a folding chair out of the shadows.

    “What I really wanted to know was how a fortune-teller makes such accurate guesses about her clients,” Molly explained. “I realize that some fortunes are generic. Most people want to hear that they'll come into money or find true love. And I suppose it's always safe