Chapter 4
Serena
Wrapping up a box packed with my wise woman tea, I hand it to my Los Angeles-based customer, then watch her and a friend walk away in awe. Did they seriously drive over three hours just to come to this farmers market for my tea? My heart flips in my chest.
Leaving the rat race in Chicago was scary, but buying the farm in Corvid Valley last year was the best decision I ever made.
Not only has my life slowed down in so many incredible ways, but I have been more in tune with the magical part of myself ever since.
Of course, one can still be a connected witch anywhere they live, but it is definitely much easier for me out here in this Central California Valley than in man-made buildings and traffic surrounding them.
"It looks like you're having an excellent Saturday morning." Goldie, the Farmers Market manager, pulls me out of my daydreaming stupor.
"Hi, Goldie. Yeah, it's been a fantastic morning. In fact, I just sold to someone who drove here from LA."
The Farmers Market manager gives me a smile and a supportive squeeze on the forearm. "I'm just walking around reminding everyone that we have our harvest festival planning meeting after we close this afternoon."
"I will be there."
When she walks off to visit the next booth, Tessa and a couple of her high school girlfriends come giggling over.
"Hi, Serena," she says, then turning to her friend with curly hair, she says, "Here, Christy, this is what I was talking about. Moon cycle tea."
Watching her friend study the bag, I say, "It's made with raspberry leaf, chamomile, and peppermint. It tastes amazing. And it really helps with cramps during that time of the month."
All three teenagers end up buying a bag from me before running off giggling. The rest of my Farmers Market day goes nicely with steady customers throughout.
I hear Jennifer Cain, the owner of Corvid Valley Harvest, before even seeing her. "Eve, Claire, over here!" Turning, I see the former hockey player's wife pointing out my stand.
"Serena, are you out of your wise woman tea?" she says with worry in her voice.
"Almost," I say. "Sorry, I haven't replenished the table. Let me get the rest that I brought."
A minute later, I place six bags on the table, and the three women each grab two.
"We'll take them," they say in unison.
"Oh, and Serena, do you have your cooling blend?" Jennifer says while scanning the table.
"Yes. Right over here."
"What's in that?" her graying blonde friend asks me.
"This one has sage, peppermint, and lemon balm, and it's amazing for hot flashes," I say, handing her the bag.
"We'll take these as well," the woman with the curly silver hair says, and I ring them up.
As the women dig through their purses for their wallets, I look over at Colt Dalton's booth.
Immediately, my body vibrates with an annoyed desire when I catch him yet again looking over here.
This has to be the fifth time I have caught him staring at me.
Why is he so interested today? Then, as soon as we make eye contact, he immediately tears his gaze away from me and gets back to talking to his customer.
What is his deal? Jerk or not, he does excellent business here at the Farmers Market.
But why he keeps looking over here is beyond me.
He's probably just being a judgmental ass.
The afternoon brings a steady stream of regulars who know exactly what they want.
Mrs. Chen picks up her monthly supply of digestive blend for her husband's stomach issues.
Teresa, a young mother with twin toddlers, grabs three bags of my sleepy-time tea, looking absolutely exhausted as her boys tug at her hands.
I slip her an extra sample of my energy blend with a knowing wink.
"You're a lifesaver," she whispers gratefully.
When the market winds down, I start packing my remaining inventory back into wooden crates. The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the market stalls, and there's something magical about this golden hour when vendors chat more freely with each other instead of focusing on customers.
Tessa appears at my booth again, this time alone.
"My mom wanted me to ask if you'd be willing to make a custom blend for her friend who's going through menopause," she says, lowering her voice. "She's having a really hard time with the night sweats and mood swings."
"Of course. Have her call me this week and we can discuss what might work best for her specific symptoms," I say, jotting down my number on a business card and handing it to the teen.
The sellers sit around the intimate amphitheater in the corner of our Farmers Market area, which on Saturdays sometimes has singers and children's performances on Saturday mornings. The farmers and artisans gather, listening to Goldie give us the lowdown from the stage.
"And once again, the Brooks and Mendoza families will be co-hosting a pumpkin patch and petting zoo this year."
Some other farmers yell out goofy catcalls. Looking over, I see Tessa excitedly saying something to her aunt, Alondra.
"Alright, folks. Let's split up and everyone meet with his or her partners to discuss logistics."
I scan the sunken amphitheater and find the broad-shouldered, shaggy-haired, annoyingly good-looking cowboy staring at me from the other end. We both walk toward each other, meeting halfway.
"Hi," Colt says when we meet up, his judgmental asshole voice sounding like buttered toffee.
"Hey. So I guess we should plan how we're going to set up our booth," I say, getting right to the point.
Something flickers behind Colt's blue eyes I cannot read, and he nods. "How about... well, would you like to come over on Monday evening and we can plan?"
"Whatever. That sounds good."
The cowboy's pale cheeks redden.
Giving him a curt nod, I turn around and head back to my booth to pack up the rest of my belongings.