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and joining the others. “By doing nothing more than getting the Reverend to notice her, and thereby giving herself a chance to decide if she wants to go out on a date with him—just one little date—then she will be standing up for herself. She will show her family she is more than they say she is. And did you hear Mrs. Davenport the other day? All the people she has worked so hard to serve for so long pushed her aside for their own gain. If she doesn’t rally against that…”
    “They will hold sway over her the rest of her life. And heaven help her if one of them should actually succeed in marrying off one of their candidates to that poor man.”
    “Salt in the wound,” I whispered, my eyes shut tight against the very thought of it. When I opened my eyes again, I could see I’d gotten to Maxine. I’d made my sale, but I hadn’t driven it home. “Think of it, Maxine. Bernadette is like Cinderella, and we’re her…”
    She held up her hand, her expression a clear warning about making that particular comparison. Then she offered a sly smile and her own version of our role in getting this girl her shot at the glass slipper. “Godly Mothers?”
    “Tiara Madres.” I raised my chin. I could practically feel the delightful weight of the silver band and a hundred crystals winking and twinkling on my head. If we had had coffee cups right then, we’d have clinked for sure and sealed the deal.
    Maxine was on board.
    Now all we needed to do was find a way to transform Bernadette and elevate her to a whole new status in the Reverend’s eyes.
    “Anyone up for a hot-air balloon ride?” The young man who stood outside the gate every weekend pushed a large wicker basket upright in a spot smack-dab between the four of us and the entryway.
    I caught my breath.
    “Sammy?” Bernadette cocked her head, but did not relinquish her gentle hold on the Reverend’s arm. “What are you doing here?”
    “I asked him.” Chloe stepped out from behind the basket, her eyes bright and her hair practically glowing with a new, brilliant streak of orange color.
    “Chloe? You weren’t supposed to be on this subcommittee.” I was torn. On the one hand, I liked seeing her, or anyone, take an active interest in our work but on the other hand, as chair I had set up who would work with who—with whom?—and she was messing about with my plans. I wasn’t angry so much as flustered, and I suppose that carried through in my tone when I leaned in toward the girl in the black jeans with the black-and-red pleated skirt over them and a couple of layers of T-shirts. “I thought you understood you were to work with Mrs. Alvarez and Jan Belmont, looking into regulations and the paperwork side of things.”
    “I know.” She shrugged. No, not shrugged. Squirmed, really. She twisted her upper body and ground the ball of her foot against the damp earth as she went on to say, “But you see, this is one of things that really…” She pressed her lips together. I am not sure what she almost said, and the fact that I didn’t know made me think it wasn’t the kind of language she ought to be using. She must have realized it, too, because she cleared her throat, fiddled with the ring in her eyebrow and began again. “I know Mrs. Belmont doesn’t like the hot-air balloon rides.”
    “But she’s wrong to want to try to shut us down.” The young man reached up to turn on a valve. A sudden blast of fire illuminated the side of his face.
    I stepped back, and Maxine with me. “Chloe, I thought you wanted to see this place shut—”
    “A lot of people depend on this place for their livelihoods, Ms. Pepperdine.” The girl did not outright deny thatshe had been on the side of those wanting to see the flea market closed, but she sure didn’t seem to want me to say it outright, either. Her eyes darted from side to side, and when the young man dipped his head to tell her to keep talking, she obeyed. “It’s not fair to take this place away because