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going to do?”
    When Inger shrugged, Chase continued, casting about in her own mind for what to do next. “Have you talked to the baby’s father? Is he going to be any help?”
    â€œZack was in the army.” Her face crumpled and she sobbed once more. “We were going to get married. We weren’t careful enough.” She patted her stomach, though it hadn’t started to bulge yet. “He didn’t think he would get sent overseas again, but he did. And he didn’t . . . he didn’t come back.”
    Poor Inger was truly alone.
    After another brief crying jag, Chase called Anna.

SEVEN
    C hase wouldn’t have believed it possible, but the fair was more crowded on Sunday than it had been on Saturday. Their neighbor had finally shown up. So far, the man she assumed was Harper had plopped boxes on his table and was stringing up his banner. It was cute, with “Harper’s Toys” spelled out in primary-colored capital letters. Some of the letters were in the shape of toys. The
A
looked like a teepee playhouse, both
S
s were jump ropes, and the
O
was a striped beach ball.
    She went over to say hello. The man, older and gray-haired with rather ugly black tattoos on his stringy forearms, balanced on the table and struggled to fasten the string to his banner in the upper corner of his booth. She didn’t wantto distract him and make him lose his balance, so she waited until he spied her before she said anything.
    He finally got the banner up, using a copious amount of soft swearing, and climbed off the table.
    He saw Chase. “Hey, what do you want?” His voice was gruff.
    That was rather ungracious, she thought. How was he going to sell toys if he frightened small children?
    â€œI want to say hi. I’m Chase and I’m in the booth next door. I’m looking forward to seeing your toys. Are they handmade?”
    â€œYeah, they’re handmade. You’ll see ’em when I get set up.” He turned his back on her and started ripping his boxes open with a pocketknife. She walked away without seeing any of the toys. Why was he so unfriendly? The travel agents, their other neighbors, seemed nice anyway.
    She whispered to Anna about Harper. “Our neighbor is a crabby old toymaker. Don’t bother trying to talk to him.”
    â€œMaybe,” Anna whispered back, “he’s harried, being a day late to the fair. His mood might improve.”
    Chase doubted it. After she zipped over to drop Quincy at the vet’s office, she hurried back to help Anna get their booth ready to open. The onslaught of dessert bar buyers was truly phenomenal. Sales rivaled those of their two busiest times at the Bar None, which were freshman move-in week at the U and the holiday rush from mid-November until Christmas Eve.
    Luckily, they were prepared, with piles of boxed treats and tray after tray of individual bars.
    Anna had thought to bring several packages of wetwipes for the sticky fingers of customers who scarfed down their sweets right there at the booth. She and Chase had noticed many of them doing that on Saturday. The eager customers couldn’t wait to pop the Strawberry Cheesecake Bars, Lemon Bars, Cherry Chiffon Bars, and pineapple-coconut Hula Bars into their mouths.
    Anna took a break midmorning to run home and check on Inger.
    After Chase called the night before, Anna offered to let Inger stay at her place. She had more room—an actual guest room, in fact. Since it was Sunday, the shop was supposed to be open, following the normally scheduled Bar None business days of Wednesday through Sunday. However, they had decided to close up today, under the circumstances.
    When Anna got back, Chase asked how Inger was doing.
    â€œShe was having morning sickness when I left earlier, but now she says she’s feeling better. She was watching television. I believe she knows that she has to make some decisions about her future and the baby’s