An Unfair State Fair

The last strip of daylight caught on the Ferris wheel spokes as Lila Marston wrestled a canvas flap over the Aurora Eats sign. Beyond the midway, the Chugach Mountains were turning violet, but inside the fairgrounds everything flashed and shouted - music from the livestock pavilion, generators coughing awake, children testing the carnival games before the gates officially opened.

“Higher,” Jonah called from beneath the awning. “Unless we’re selling auroras to people under five feet tall.”

Lila tugged the rope until it burned her palm. “You’re welcome to climb up there and fix it.”

“I would, but then who would admire my excellent knot work?”

“You call that a knot?”

“It has held for three minutes.”

She glanced down at him. Jonah Reed stood with one boot on a milk crate, dark hair windblown and a smear of blueberry sauce across his cheek. His grin was easy, but his eyes kept moving toward the neighboring booths. The fair had not opened, and already the rivalry along the food row had sharpened into something mean.

At the booth across the lane, Calder’s Candied Salmon glittered beneath strings of red lights. Its owner, Perry Calder, had spent the afternoon accusing everyone within earshot of stealing his spice blend. Earlier, someone had loosened the wheel on Aurora Eats’ propane cart. Lila had found it before Jonah did, and Jonah had insisted on taking the blame for not checking it sooner.

She tightened the rope and climbed down. “The sign is straight.”

Jonah looked up. “It’s leaning left.”

“That’s the mountain.”

“That is not how mountains work.”

A burst of static rolled from the loudspeakers. Then the fair announcer welcomed the first guests, and the gates beyond the midway clanged open. A cheer rose from the entrance. Families streamed in beneath strings of bulbs, carrying jackets, cameras, and the excited confidence of people who believed the fair’s bright colors meant everything behind them was safe.

Lila stepped inside the booth and checked the warming trays. Reindeer sliders, berry hand pies, and smoked-salmon rolls waited beneath clear lids. Their permits were clipped to the wall. The cash drawer was locked. The propane gauge held steady.

One thing remained.

“Where’s the blue binder?” she asked.

Jonah’s smile faded. “Which blue binder?”

“The vendor log. Perry signed for the shared freezer this morning. I want to confirm the time before I report the cart damage.”

“It was on the shelf.”

“It was supposed to be on the shelf.”

She reached behind the stack of paper boats and found only dust and a bent twist tie. Outside, a bell rang at the nearest game stall. Someone shouted that the ring toss was rigged. The noise pressed close, cheerful and relentless.

Jonah ducked under the counter. “Maybe it got moved when the inspectors came through.”

“Then they moved it without telling us.”

“Lila.”

She heard the warning in his voice and looked at him. For the past month, they had been calling themselves partners in the booth, though the word had begun to mean more than a shared business. His proposal had come three nights earlier beside the fair’s darkened entrance, a small silver ring warmed by his nervous hand. She had said yes before he finished asking.

Now his gaze flicked toward the missing binder, and the warmth between them thinned.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“That’s not nothing.”

“Perry’s been telling people we tampered with his freezer inventory. If the binder is gone, he’ll say we took it.”

“Then we find it before he gets the chance.”

She pushed through the side flap into the narrow service lane behind the booths. The fair looked different from there. Decorative banners hid the public side, while crates, power cords, and half-open storage tents crowded the gravel. The temperature had dropped, and cold seeped through her thin sneakers.

“Stay with the booth,” Jonah said.

“I’m looking for our records.”

“I’ll look.”

“You’re the one Perry is accusing.”

His jaw tightened. “And you’re my fiancée.”

The word landed harder than it should have. Not because she disliked hearing it. Because two workers at the nearby kettle-corn stand turned at the sound.

Jonah saw them listening and lowered his voice. “Let me handle it.”

“If you handle it, Perry gets exactly what he wants.”

“Which is?”

“To make us look guilty.”

A crash sounded from the far end of the service lane.

Both of them turned.

For one instant, Lila saw only a toppled stack of crates near Calder’s booth. Then a figure in a gray fair jacket slipped behind the livestock pavilion.

“Hey!” Jonah shouted.

He ran.

Lila followed, boots skidding on loose gravel. The lane narrowed between a row of supply trailers and the back wall of the salmon booth. A string of bulbs swung overhead, throwing light across the ground in bright, broken patches. She caught a glimpse of gray fabric near the corner and reached for it, but her fingers closed on empty air.

“Jonah!”

He stopped beside the crates....