Priscilla's Hot Air Balloon Ride - Part 2

Hello Friday Fiction Fans,
Here I sit on my bed in the hotel room. In a few hours we'll be busy with the conference and I'm excited. Though I do grow tired of doing them when we have to help with many, the first one is always fun. Not to mention that we like this particular conference. :)

Since my birthday was this week, I was going to do a "party" of sorts today, but I was so busy with writing and getting ready to leave and listening to the audio of "The Graham Quartet" that I didn't have time to get it all set up. So . . . I guess that means you'll have to come back next week. :)

Writing went well this week even if I only had three evenings to write. I was able to get 6 thousand words written. And, I only have about 4-6 parts left to write of TCR-5. :) Oh, and this week I got an idea for a new Graham Quartet mystery. Anyone interested in reading it once I get it written?

Well, it's about time for breakfast, so I'll end this and let you read the last part of

Priscilla's Hot Air Balloon Ride

    For a moment Priscilla was left to think as the burner was turned on and a blast of flames shot up to keep the air warm inside the giant balloon. When it was quiet again, she replied, “I suppose that might cause a problem. But if they didn’t know you were there—“
    “‘Cilla, how could anyone not know a giant thing like this was floating over their heads?”
    Fingering her strands of pearls she always wore, Priscilla pursed her lips. “Why, I don’t know. Perhaps if the bad guys didn’t know they were being spied on . . .” She frowned thoughtfully before shrugging. “It was just a thought. I should write to the Federal Bureau of Investigation and suggest the possibility of using such a thing as this wonderful invention to further enhance their investigative angles. Though of course you can’t hover in them and that might prevent you from hearing the most important part of the conversation. I must give it some more thought.”
    Suddenly Susanna, who hadn’t been paying any attention to the conversation, pointed. “Look at the sunrise!”
    It was breathtaking, seen from above all the trees and buildings which normally block the views of the most beautiful sunrises. The sky was a brilliant pink, the clouds a dusty purple tinged with yellow, and in the center, glowing like a ball of polished gold, rose the sun. No one spoke until the colors in the sky had faded, the sun looked like itself and day had arrived.
    “Oh, that was so pretty,” Elizabeth sighed. “I wish my camera was nice enough to do the sunrise justice.”
    Everyone agreed with her and conversation drifted to small talk.
    It wasn’t long, however, before there occurred an event which will always be remembered by those in that basket underneath the balloon.
    Priscilla, leaning out of the basket so as to see the lovely trees below, let out a sudden cry. “My hat!”
    “What? The Cream Creation?” Amy asked. “‘Cilla, how did your hat fall off?”
    “I thought you said you had that thing pinned on, ma’am?” Mr. Archer said.
    Priscilla sniffed. “I did. I mean, I thought I did. Yes, I know I put a hat pin in to hold it on, but, oh dear, I must not have gotten the pins in my hair at all! Now I’ve lost—Or can we land—"
    Before she could finish her sentence, the man shook his head. “I’m afraid you’ve lost the hat, lady, if it fell off here. Sorry about that.”
    “Ah, my lovely hat, my delightful cream creation, gone forever.”
    All the girls peered over the edges in hopes of seeing the hat land, but it had disappeared.
    “The very thought of this loss is tragic to my mind,” moaned Miss Priscilla, who adored hats of all colors, shapes, sizes and decorations. She already had a collection of hats with them in the RV and was always on the lookout for a new one. This loss of one hat seemed to be quite a calamity to Priscilla, though Amy was secretly delighted. It would mean a little more room, until it was replaced by a different one.
    “Perhaps it will land on the head of a cow,” Amy suggested in an attempt to cheer her companion up. “Then the cow will wear it home and some little girl will find it and will be oh so delighted about it.”
    Looking brighter already, Priscilla smiled faintly. “Maybe so.” Her smile widened. “Oh, it would be a pleasant thing indeed if my hat were to make some small girl happy. If only I had thought to write the name of it inside on the band. How will she know what to call it?” Tipping her head up, she gazed thoughtfully into the inside of the balloon. “My cream creation might be the first hat in the little girl’s collection. It may be the first in a fabulous gathering of hats, though maybe not as extensive as my own. She’s probably never had a real hat before. Those things,” she looked at Amy almost reproachfully, “you call hats, those baseball caps, are not in the same category as a real hat! Claiming it as such is almost an insult to the true hats.”
    Amy said not a word in answer but gave the others an amused look. She was used to Priscilla’s strange fascination with hats.
    The rest of the trip was a delightful experience for everyone and when they landed, many were the exclamations of thanks and the expressions of enjoyment over their excursion.
    “Mr. Archer, had it not been for the loss of my poor cream creation,” Priscilla said, as she shook the balloon man’s hand before they left, “I would have said this was one of the most delightful adventures of my trip. However, it was not your fault, and I lay no blame on you or on your balloon. Many people say they left their heart someplace, now I will have to say, ‘I left my hat in Alabama.’ Good bye, sir. Come along girls, we still have a drive before us.”
    And so, with many waves, the four traveling companions returned to their RV and continued on their trip across the state of Alabama, leaving behind one hat.

Do you agree with Priscilla about baseball caps?

Will you be back next week for the "party"?

Do you still want to ride in a hot air balloon?