Throw Away the Key

Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“?Sadie,” Emma called.

The farmer's market was lively, the weather having warmed up a bit as they neared the vernal equinox. The breezy, mild weather meant a colorfully printed scarf and ankle boots with Emma’s favorite emerald green peacoat. She’d pulled her braids back into a half-up ‘do to keep her hair out of her face.

“Oh, hey.” Sadie’s casual chic continued with her heather blue jogger suit covered by a black motorcycle jacket–its collar covered by the hood from her sweatshirt. It had been almost a week since they last saw each other, and Emma didn't have proof, but she was under the impression that Sadie had been avoiding her. Her responses to texts had been short, and she never seemed to be home when Emma returned from work. “I didn't expect to see you here,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck and scanning her gaze over the market stalls. “Getting anything special?”

Or maybe she just doesn’t want to see me at all. Emma called Sadie the day after the key debacle, which she followed with a text in case Sadie was anything like Zora and didn’t listen to voicemails. No returned call. “I just wanted to come and pick up a few things and see if Tonya has another recipe for me to try.”

“So you've been trying your hand at cooking?” Sadie studied Emma’s face, her expression undecipherable.

Emma searched for hints and nodded, finding none. “Yeah. Are you meeting up with your friends?”

“Yes. She's supposed to be, but we've been trying to find her for the last half hour,” Joy retorted from behind Emma.

“Oh, hi, Joy. Sheena. How are y'all doing?” Emma giggled as Joy scowled at Sadie.

Sheena fingerwaved, the corners of her mouth curving in amusement as her gaze pingponged between Emma and Sadie. “We're good. How've you been?”

“Uh, you know, day by day.” Emma fidgeted with her bags. She tried to hide the disappointment from her face, her mind going into overdrive about what it is that she could have possibly done to upset Sadie. If she made eye contact with Sadie for too long, she feared all of her thoughts being written all over her face in neon print.

Joy regarded Emma thoughtfully. “Listen, I'm having an art show at a gallery later. Would you be interested in coming?”

Emma’s lips parted in surprise. “I would love to! I'm a big fan of art, and I feel like–given how colorful you are,” she gestured to Joy’s choices of bright orange and yellow against her brown skin, “I can imagine really gravitating towards your medium.”

Joy beamed at her as her golden bangles caught the sunlight and tinkled together like tiny wind chimes as she dug her hand into the tote hanging from her shoulder. “Yes, I noticed the same light about you.”

Emma grinned, a bounce in her shoulders. “Kindred spirits.”

“Exactly! Well here, I have a little event card.” Joy handed her a small glossy flyer on cardstock.

“Nice! Is it okay if I bring a close friend? Just a friend–not a date,” she mentally cursed herself for blurting out that last bit. It wasn’t like Sadie was showing interest in dating anyway.

“Sure, of course,” Joy glanced quickly at Sadie, a question mark on her face, but her friend was studying a piece of lint on her shoulder. “Well, we're headed towards the honey booth. I hope you and your friend can make it,” she squeezed Emma’s shoulder and Sheena winked as the couple joined hands.

“Right, I'm headed to produce. It was good to see you again, and Sadie, I'm sure I'll see you around.” Emma's voice quieted as she turned away.

Sadie’s silence ate at Emma, but she convinced herself that Sadie probably had a lot going on. A new tenant was moving into the building and they likely kept Sadie busy. Surely she’d call when she was ready.

Emma picked up a creamy blue cheese and some freshly made mozzarella from the cheese stand before moving on. She picked up red leaf lettuce, Persian cucumbers, cherry tomatoes, radishes, and mangoes once she reached Tonya’s stand.

“Actually, let me get a pint of strawberries also, please.”

“You got it,” Tonya replied cheerfully.

“I'm wondering if you have a recipe that might go well with a salad with some of these components. The chicken turned out so well that I’m inspired to try something else!”

Tonya swiped her mouth to the side. “Hmm. Have you ever cooked salmon?”

“No, is it difficult? I need, like, beginner level stuff.”

“Yeah. Don't worry, this is really easy, I promise,” Tonya waved away the concern as she searched for a recipe card for blackened salmon fillets. “You may need to pick up some more spices, but I’m sure you’ve got everything else you need. And here, add these to your bag–I’ve got a lemon cilantro vinaigrette recipe that will make your toes curl!”

She dropped citrus fruit, a bunch of herbs, and an avocado into Emma’s bag and totaled her up, Emma hovering her phone over the terminal to pay. “Ooo, that sounds delicious. I’ll try it and let you know how it all turns out. Thanks, Tonya!”

The woman nodded and waved to her. “See you next week!”

Emma turned to peruse a few more booths, stopping and buying some fresh walnuts, and sampling the candied pecans. A new booth caught her eye and she strolled over to take a look at scarves with different patterns and colors. “These are beautiful,” Emma murmured as she admired the colors and prints. These would make great gifts for Zora and Granny. She sifted through the soft textiles, wondering if they were handwoven.

“Thank you. Are you looking for anything in particular?” The stall owner was an older woman sitting in an adirondack chair, rocking as she crocheted what looked to be a baby blanket–pastel pink and blue curled with soft white yarn into a delicate shell pattern. The woman’s hands were so practiced that they moved swiftly with precision without her paying their movements any mind. She eyed the multicolored paisley pashmina-like scarf beneath Emma’s palm, its deep blues and purples overlapping with hints of an embossed pearlescence here and there. “That’s a popular design–I’ve got that in greens and browns as well. The last of the pink sold out this morning.”

Emma shook her head. “I'm just browsing, but these are beautiful.” She ran her fingers over the gauzy material, admiring one with a geometric pattern of pink and orange and coral. “I'll have to come back. Will you be here next weekend?”

“I will. And here's our card just in case you think of something that you'd like in the meantime–everything that's here is also on our website. All of our materials are handwoven, and designs are handpainted or embroidered. We can also do custom orders if there are colors that you want that we don’t have posted.”

Emma nodded. “Great, thank you.” She eyed the coffee stand next door, thinking that she might need to get a caffeine fix before heading home. “Is that a special order that you’re working on?” Emma jutted her chin toward the afghan in the woman’s hands.

“What this?” Her eyes softened as she looked at the blanket as if realizing that she’d been crafting their entire exchange. “No, my daughter is expecting–my first grandchild.”

“Aww, how sweet. That’s such a beautiful blanket–your grandbaby will be so lucky!”

“Thank you, my dear,” the warm glow in her face displayed her anticipation. “You have children?”

“Not yet,” Emma shook her head wistfully. “Maybe someday.” She thanked the woman again and started toward the next stall for a latte. She stepped in line behind two others, perusing the drink specials in honor of St. Patrick’s Day. Unless it’s mint or matcha, it shouldn’t be green.

“Hey,” Sadie’s voice sounded behind Emma, startling her.

“Oh, hey. I didn't see you there.” More honestly, I’m surprised that you’re acknowledging that you see me…

“You getting coffee? I mean, of course you’re getting coffee… this is a coffee stand ,” Sadie squeezed her eyes shut as if she was wishing for a do-over.

She’d taken off her leather jacket and held it in her arms, Emma’s eyes falling to the delicate expanse of skin over Sadie’s collarbone that was exposed. “But they serve tea and lemonade, so it was a valid question.” Emma swallowed hard, tilting her head. “Listen, uh, I don't have to come to that art thing if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Sadie's brows rose in surprise. “Oh, I'm not uncomfortable.”

Right. “Are you sure?” Snark was typically more reserved for Zora, but small talk just felt… wrong. Everything in Emma nudged at her to close the distance between her and Sadie except for a voice in her head, which warned her off.

“Yeah, I… it's just that I have a lot going on. But I think it's great that you want to come and support Joy.”

“I like Joy. I recognize that I don’t know her well, but she’s got a cool vibe. I’m happy to support her.” Emma turned and ordered an iced matcha latte with oat milk and strawberries and stood off to the side waiting for her drink.

Sadie placed her order and followed Emma, poking her finger at Emma’s purse. “I see you’ve got your keys clipped to your bag.” The carabiner was hooked around one of its straps. It had come in handy whenever Emma needed to find her keys in a hurry.

Now we’re reaching… she’d know how useful the thing was if she’d bothered to answer the phone. “Yep, I’ve got my keys, so as long as one doesn’t break in the lock again, I’ll stay out of your hair,” she quipped. Thanks to the silent treatment, Emma made it a point to run through the checklist of items she needed for fear that she’d have to interrupt Sadie’s work so that she could retrieve her keys or phone. She’d started planning out her outfits in advance and clipping her keys to whatever purse matched best so that everything was where it should be.

In truth this new practice wasn’t a bad thing–it saved her a lot of time. She just didn’t want to admit that planning was actually beneficial. Zora’d never let her hear the end of it.

“You’re not a bother, Emma,” Sadie blew out a breath. “Listen, I know I haven’t called you back. I just…”

Emma’s face grew hot at the threat of rejection. “It’s cool,” she smiled tightly. “No need to explain.”

One of the baristas called out Sadie’s name and she stepped forward, though her lips parted as if she had something more to say. Her eyes darted back and forth between Emma’s and the ground before she grabbed her cup of regular drip coffee and raised it wordlessly, turning back to go join her friends.

Emma's mind ran a mile a minute as her drink was delivered to the counter. She smiled as she thanked the barista and swirled the drink in her hand. “I do not get this girl,” she muttered to herself, as she pivoted on her heel to walk home.