Chapter Nineteen
Hazel
By eight fifty-two Saturday morning, I had learned three things.
Kori considered eight forty-five a legally binding appointment.
Crystal needed coffee before she was willing to participate in society.
And apparently, I could be bribed into getting out of bed before nine on a Saturday with the promise of a cinnamon roll the size of my head.
“This better be worth it,” I said.
Kori looked over her shoulder at me. “You’ve complained about the time six times.”
“It’s early,” I moaned.
“It’s almost nine.”
“On a Saturday,” I pointed out.
“Some people have already lived full lives today,” Crystal laughed.
“Those people need hobbies,” I grumbled.
Crystal snorted into the iced coffee she’d bought approximately thirty seconds after we’d arrived. “This is her hobby. Complaining.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“I took it as one.”
We moved with the crowd through the farmers market, weaving between tables and tents while Kori attempted to see everything at once.
I had to admit it was pretty nice.
The weather was perfect. Warm without being hot yet, the sun was out, and there were enough people milling around to make the place feel busy without making me want to start elbowing strangers out of my way.
Tables stretched down both sides of the blocked-off street.
Vegetables.
Flowers.
Baked goods.
Homemade soaps.
Candles.
Jewelry.
Things made out of wood that I couldn’t identify.
One booth had approximately seventy different things with WELCOME painted on them.
Signs. Boards. A metal bucket. A wooden chicken.
I stopped.
Crystal almost walked into me.
“What?”
I pointed. “Why does the chicken say welcome?”
She looked at it. “I don’t know.”
“Where would you put that?”
“Kitchen?”
Kori stopped beside us. “Porch.”
“Why would I need a chicken welcoming people to my porch?”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
I looked at her. “That isn’t an answer.”
Kori picked up the wooden chicken. It was bright yellow with a red comb and WELCOME FRIENDS painted across its stomach. “You need this.”
“I absolutely do not,” I laughed.
“For your new house.”
“No.”
“Housewarming present,” Kori cheered.
“I’ll throw it away,” I blurted.
“You wouldn’t.”
“I would.” I wouldn’t if they bought it for me, but I could tell you that it would be in the corner of the porch with a pot in front of it.
Crystal sipped her coffee. “She’s lying.”
I looked at her. “Whose side are you on?”
“The chicken’s.”
“Of course.”
Kori held it up beside my head. “Look how happy he is.”
“It’s a piece of wood.”
“He’s happy,” she smiled.
“He’s terrifying.”
“He’s welcoming.”
“Put the chicken down,” I ordered.
Kori sighed and carefully returned him to the table. “Fine.”
I walked away.
“You’re going to regret that,” she called.
I raised my hand over my head. “I already don’t.”
We made it another twenty feet before something smelled so good I stopped again.
This time, nobody questioned me.
“Cinnamon rolls,” Kori whispered. She said it like she’d just seen God.
Crystal laughed. “And now we lose her.”
Kori took off. Actually took off.
“Kori!”
She ignored me.
I looked at Crystal. “Does she always run toward baked goods?”
“Pretty much.”
“Good to know.”
We caught up with her at a booth where a woman was pulling cinnamon rolls out of large bakery boxes.
Kori hadn’t lied.
They were huge.
I stared at them. “Okay.”
Kori looked smug. “What?”
“You were right.”
She bumped my shoulder. “Say it again.”
“No.” I didn’t take my eyes off the cinnamon rolls.
“Hazel.”
“I said it once. Don’t get greedy,” I muttered.
She pointed at the rolls. “Worth eight forty-five?”
“Ask me after I eat one.”
We each bought one, then found an empty bench nearby.
I made it three bites before I understood why Kori had been willing to negotiate away fifteen minutes of sleep for this. “Oh my God.”
Kori nodded with her mouth full.
Crystal pulled a piece from hers. “She’s ruined regular cinnamon rolls for me.”
“This is ridiculous,” I moaned around a mouthful.
“Told you,” Kori sang.
I looked down at mine. “I might need another one.”
“That’s why you buy two.”
“You bought two?”
Kori lifted the bag sitting beside her.
I laughed. “You have a problem and I am mad at you for not buying a second one for me.”
“I have foresight.”
For the next hour, we wandered.
And laughed a lot.
I bought a jar of honey I absolutely didn’t need because the man selling it convinced me his bees were happier than other bees. I wasn’t sure how anyone measured bee happiness, but he’d been convincing enough for me to hand over eighteen dollars.
Crystal bought flowers.
Kori bought earrings, a loaf of bread, some kind of spicy cheese, and another cinnamon roll.
“You already have another one,” I pointed out.
“That one’s for later today.”
“And this one?” I laughed.
“Tomorrow.”
“Do cinnamon rolls have a retirement plan in your house?” Crystal asked.
“They don’t live long enough.”
Fair enough.
We stopped at a table covered with candles. I picked one up and smelled it, then immediately pulled it away from my face. “No.”
Crystal laughed. “Bad?”
“It smells like a man named Earl who owns six ferrets.”
Kori grabbed it. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Smell it,” I insisted.
She did. Her face twisted half a second later. “Oh, my God, that is Earl who I think might own ten ferrets.”
“Exactly,” I laughed.
“What is that supposed to be?”
Crystal read the label. “Woodland Musk.”
“That’s not woodland musk,” I said. “That’s Earl.”
The woman working the booth glanced our way. I quickly put the candle down. “Walk.”
We hurried away before she could throw us out of the farmers market.
By the time we reached the next block, all three of us were laughing hard enough that Crystal had tears in her eyes. “I can’t take you anywhere,” she managed.
“This was all your idea,” I pointed out.
“And I’m already regretting it,” Crystal wheezed.
Kori rolled her eyes. “No, you’re not.”
“No,” she admitted. “I’m not.”
Something settled in my chest.
I’d been in Wisconsin for barely any time at all, and somehow I had Pink next door and these two idiots dragging me through a farmers market before nine in the morning.
I liked it.
“Why are you smiling?” Kori asked.
I immediately stopped. “I wasn’t.”
“You were,” she insisted.
“Maybe Earl was on my mind.”
Crystal started laughing again. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
We turned toward another row of booths and that was when I heard the motorcycles. They weren’t close at first, but the sound carried between the buildings.
I glanced toward the street.
Kori didn’t even look.
Crystal did. “Sounds like a few.”
I wasn’t sure how either of them could tell. To me, motorcycles sounded like motorcycles.
Then two bikes rolled slowly down the open street on the other side of the market before turning into a parking area.
I recognized the cuts before I recognized either man.
Grave Prowlers.
My eyes stayed on them for a second. Neither one was Bone.
I looked away.
Kori caught it. “Looking for somebody?”
“Nope.”
She made a noise.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
We kept walking.
I didn’t think anything else about the motorcycles until about ten minutes later when I heard a man’s voice behind me.
“Don’t you fucking do it.”
I turned.
One of the Grave Prowlers stood at a booth with his back to us. The other guy was beside him.
I recognized both from the night they’d come into Bing’s with Bone.
One was Taco. I remembered because there was no way in hell I was forgetting that road name.
The other was Rowdy.
Taco pointed at something on the table. “I’m serious.”
Rowdy held up both hands. “I didn’t say shit.”
“You’re thinking it.”
“I can’t control what I think.”
“You can control your fucking face.”
I looked at Kori. She shrugged. Crystal smiled.
“What are they doing?” I whispered.
“No clue.”
We got closer and then I saw what Taco was holding.
A jar of strawberry jam. Taco looked over and his eyes landed on me. Then the jar disappeared behind his back.
I stared at him.
He stared at me.
“Morning,” he said.
“Morning.”
Kori waved. “Hey, Taco.”
“Hey.”
Crystal smiled at Rowdy. “Morning.”
He nodded. “Ladies.”
I looked back at Taco. He shifted slightly. I could still see the jar behind him. “What are you hiding?”
“Nothing,” He replied quickly.
“Is that jam?”
“No.”
Rowdy turned away and his shoulders started shaking.
Taco glared at him. “Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything,” he chuckled.
“Is that strawberry jam?” I asked.
Taco slowly brought the jar back around. “Yes.”
I blinked.
He stared at me like he was daring me to say something.
I couldn’t help it. “Seriously?”
“What?”
“You’re buying strawberry jam.”
“Yeah.”
I glanced at his cut, then at the motorcycle parked down the street. Then at the jam.
Taco followed my eyes. “What the fuck is wrong with jam?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re judging me.”
“I am absolutely judging you.”
“Why?”
I waved toward him. “You’re a biker.”
“And?”
“And you’re buying homemade strawberry jam at a farmers market.”
“So?”
Kori leaned toward me. “I’m with Taco. Jam is delicious.”
Taco pointed at her. “Thank you.”
“I’m not saying it isn’t.”
“Then what’s the fucking problem?”
“There isn’t one. I just wasn’t expecting it.”
“Bikers can’t eat jam?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Because that’s discrimination.”
My mouth dropped open.
Crystal snorted.
“Jam discrimination?” I asked.
“Exactly.”
Rowdy lost it.
He bent over, laughing.
Taco turned on him. “Fuck you.”
Rowdy straightened. “Tell her how often you come.”
Taco’s face changed.
I looked between them.
“How often does he come?”
“Don’t.”
Rowdy grinned. “Every Saturday.”
“No,” I gasped.
“Yes.”
Taco pointed at him. “You weren’t supposed to fucking tell anybody.”
“Why?”
“I got a reputation to protect.”
Kori looked at the jar. “What kind do you normally get?”
Taco immediately answered, “Strawberry, but her raspberry is fucking good too.”
There was a beat of silence. Kori nodded seriously. “I respect that.”
“Thank you.”
Rowdy shook his head. “He gets here before she sells out.”
“Shut up.”
“He has jars at the clubhouse with his name written on the lids.”
Taco shoved the jam toward Kori’s chest. “Hold my shit.”
That only made me laugh harder.
Kori took the jar and inspected the label.
“You gonna fight me at the farmers market?” Rowdy asked.
“I might.”
“Over jam?” Crystal asked.
“Over respect,” Taco spat. “You don’t get to disrespect me and that wonderful lady who makes jam.”
I cupped my hand over my eyes and looked up at the sign behind Taco. “Belle’s Enchanted Jams,” I read out loud. “Is it really enchanted? Does she put a spell on it or something?” If Taco was willing to fight over this jam, maybe I needed a jar of it, too.
“You got a lot to say for someone carrying a jar of happy-bee honey,” he snapped.
I looked down at the honey in my hand. “How do you know about my bees?”
“Guy sells it every week.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You buy honey too?”
“No.”
Rowdy nodded. “Yeah, he does.”
“Motherfucker,” Taco cried. “Can you just keep your fucking mouth shut for two fucking minutes?”
I laughed so hard my stomach hurt.
Taco snatched the jam back from Kori. “I’m leaving.”
“No, you’re not,” Rowdy said. “You haven’t gotten your cheese curds.”
Taco stopped.
I stared.
He slowly turned toward Rowdy. “I’m gonna fucking bury you.”
Rowdy grinned. “Worth it.”
Kori lifted her bag. “I bought spicy cheese.”
Taco immediately forgot about killing Rowdy. “From the booth around the corner?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s good shit.”
“See?” Kori looked at me. “Taco knows.”
“Apparently Taco knows everything about the farmers market.”
“I’ve lived here my whole life,” he argued.
“That isn’t the same thing as having a weekly jam appointment.”
“It is not an appointment.”
“Does she save jars for you?”
Taco didn’t answer.
I gasped. “She does!”
“Fuck all of you.”
That set us off again.
Even Taco finally laughed.
For a guy who’d looked pretty intimidating walking into Bing’s with seven other bikers, he was surprisingly easy to talk to.
Actually, so was Rowdy.
Bone was different. Quieter. Harder to read.
Taco apparently couldn’t keep a thought inside his head if his life depended on it.
Kori grabbed my arm. “Come on. There’s a woman selling plants down there.”
“I kill plants,” I sighed.
“Then we’ll find you a hard-to-kill one.” Nothing was going to bring Kori down, not even me killing plants by just looking at them.
“I’ll take that as a challenge.”
Crystal waved at Taco and Rowdy. “See you guys tonight if you come in.”
“Maybe,” Rowdy said.
Taco lifted his jam. “I got plans.”
I looked at the jar. “Hot date?”
“Fuck you, Hazel.”
I burst out laughing.
We walked away and I could hear Rowdy giving Taco shit before we’d made it ten feet.
Kori hooked her arm through mine. “I like him.”
“He’s ridiculous.”
“He really is,” Crystal agreed.
“He was ready to fight Rowdy over jam,” I pointed out.
“Just threatened,” Kori corrected.
Crystal raised her fist in the air. “Right. Everyone better respect the jam.”
We dissolved into laughter again. Kori managed to get it together and set off to the next booth.
“Hazel!”
I looked up.
Kori stood ten feet ahead of me holding a small cactus.
“What?”
“This one.”
I stared at it. “You think I can keep that alive?” I didn’t think she was serious about me getting a plant.
Crystal looked at me. “It’s a cactus.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Kori shoved it into my hands. “It practically takes care of itself.”
I looked down at the little cactus. “Fine. But when this thing dies, I’m blaming both of you.”
“It won’t die,” Kori promised.
“You don’t know me well enough yet.”
Crystal laughed and headed toward the register. “You just need to water it once a week, and it will be fine. I think you can handle that.”
After Crystal paid, I followed with my cactus in one hand and the remains of my cinnamon roll in the bag with the happy honey in the other.
Maybe I needed the stupid welcome chicken too.
No.
Absolutely not.
I had standards.