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The vans arrive at dawn , and the square wakes up around them . This fountain is carved stone , in a shaded plaza , and the air is cooler than last time . Mira is already writing in her notebook when Tomi appears . Hook little fingers , tap twice . " Every town has a fountain , " says Mira , still writing . Tomi notices the stall at the far end , out in the shade . Behind it is Zsuzsa , first year , jam and pickles . Her jars are beautifully arranged . Their first attempt is direct : they tell several passing customers that there is excellent jam at the end of the row . The customers smile politely and keep walking . The awning rope on Zsuzsa 's stall has come loose , and the canvas flaps , making the stall look disorganized . Tomi fixes it without being asked , looping string until the awning sits straight . " Fact : at fairs , the most important stall is the one next to the best smell . " The bread stall , two rows over , smells extraordinary . They ask the bread seller to put a handwritten sign on his table : " Jam : end of the row . " By mid - afternoon , Zsuzsa has a small queue . Near closing time she finds Mira and Tomi at the fountain and gives them each a jar of apricot jam , because they were her first customers . Old Berti speaks from his chair , eyes half closed , to no one in particular : " Good jam this year . " Eva , from behind the cheese table : " I see everything at this fair . The reader knows the part the kids missed . Before the bread seller agreed , he glanced at Old Berti 's chair . Old Berti 's hand made the smallest gesture , a nod . " See you at the next fair . " " See you at the next fair . "
