Chapter 13
“ M ommy, why are some people so mean?” Rose stared up at her mother with wide, innocent eyes, her pink glasses firmly in place for a change.
“What do you mean, honey? Who do you think is mean?”
Rose pointed. “That man. He’s being mean to the flower lady.”
Dalia had been so busy working at their kiosk at the Farmers’ Market in Farmdale Park on this beautiful Saturday morning, she hadn’t been paying attention to anyone but her own customers.
Mama Mamie’s yummy pies, cakes, bread, and muffins had been flying off the tables.
When she took a gander, sure enough, there was a man at the flower kiosk across the way, pointing at the seller, an Asian American woman named Sue, and shouting at her.
Dalia couldn’t quite hear what he said but his irate tone traveled all the way over to her.
“You stay here with Grammy. Mama, I’ll be right back.”
Her mom, busy herself selling everything in sight, nodded understanding.
Mamie had just sold a bagful of bread, coffeecake, and donuts to the bank president and mayor, Mr. Vic Van Natter, one of her friends from way back.
After he stepped away, she sold another bagful to the fire chief and then another to a schoolteacher.
Mamie knew everybody and everybody knew her.
The same customers always stopped by her kiosk early to get their favorites before she sold out.
Dalia pressed a palm to Rose’s shoulder to emphasize her point about staying put.
Wiping her hands on her apron, she started across the way to see what was going on.
She’d known Sue, the seller, ever since kindergarten.
She was a warm but timid woman who wouldn’t hurt a fly.
Dalia couldn’t imagine why some big old bully would be yelling at her.
“And furthermore,” the man harped as Dalia approached, “you people should show your appreciation for being here in our country by offering better prices…”
“Sir! What’s the problem here?” Dalia wedged herself in-between the man and Sue’s table, putting herself in harm’s way. He smelled of sour booze, but she stood her ground, refusing to let that deter her.
“Listen, little lady, I’m not talking to you. Get out of the way.” The brute scowled, his rancid breath making Dalia’s face scrunch up like a dried-up old peach.
“No.”
He was so taken aback, Dalia watched as his neck reddened with ire, curdling blood rising beneath the surface of his mottled skin.
“What do you mean?” he growled.
“I mean no.”
Through the clenched teeth of mad dog, he snarled, “Get out of my way.”
“No. Go away.”
The stare-down felt like it lasted five minutes but in reality was no more than twenty seconds. The bigot huffed and staggered away.
“Thank you so much, Dalia.” Sue reached across her table of exquisitely arranged bouquets in pretty vases and took Dalia’s hand. “The jerk went off on me for no reason. I told him the price of a bouquet and he threw a fit. Here, sweetie, you pick out one and it’s yours as thanks.”
“No way. You need them all; you always sell out. I rather enjoyed that. What an old coot. He has no idea, obviously, that you were born right here in Farmdale. Idiot.”
“Well, thankfully, that kind of thing almost never happens around here.”
Two women came up to the table, marveling at the gorgeous display of roses, camelias, lavender, lilies, and more.
Dalia threw Sue a wave and turned around only to run smack dab into Deputy Sheriff Brody McIntyre, fairly bouncing off that hard chest of his hiding behind its starched uniform.
When they rammed into each other, all his paraphernalia, a wide leather belt holding a radio, gun, and who-knew-what-else made a crunching noise like the sound of a saddle taking on weight.
“Whoa. Sorry.” He held her back by the forearms to put a little distance between them. “I’m so sorry. My fault. I was going to get rid of that old codger, but you took care of him.” He grinned, dipped his head, and lowered his voice. “And I’ve been waiting to find a chance to talk to you.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Can we step over here?” He pointed to a spot behind the kiosks in the shade under a tree. She nodded, afraid he had something ominous to tell her. They walked in-between two kiosks to get to the semi-private spot.
He surprised her by gifting her with a broad smile so handsome her knees threatened to buckle. She refused to let that happen, straitening her spine and demanding of her body that it behave.
He said, “I was about to step in when Jerry – that’s the guy who was harassing Sue – when he started up.
But the way you handled him made my day.
He gets drunk and does that kind of thing.
I have to arrest him and take him in to sleep it off about once a week.
I’ll get him out of here in just a minute.
” He shook his head and put a hand up on the tree, leaning in so close she could smell his masculine cologne.
She couldn’t tell what kind – she had no idea what traditional cop cologne smelled like – but it was heavenly, fresh and outdoorsy, causing her resolve to hate him float away.
“Good,” she managed to respond to what he’d said. “However, Jerry needs more than a long nap.”
“I agree. Listen, Dalia, I didn’t get a chance to say everything I wanted to say last night.
I was a bit, shall I say, awestruck. I want you to know,” he continued, “that I know what you’re doing by working at the club, taking care of your little girl and your mom.
And I know you don’t mess around with any of the men like some of the girls do.
I’ve watched you. It’s strictly business for you.
Get in, do your classy act, collect your pay, and get out.
I don’t think badly of you for working there. In fact, I respect you for it.”
That left her speechless until she sputtered, “Ah, um, thank you. I appreciate that more than you could ever know. It’s very important to me that no one know because Mama and I want to open a bakery in town. But that’s a secret, too, for now, until we have the money.”
“A bakery? That’s great. I hate to be a stereotypical cop, but I love donuts. You can count on me to be there on day one.”
“Thank you. And I also want to thank you for helping me with that drunk girl the other night. I didn’t have time to say anything then, I was so anxious to get her out of there.”
“Did you get her home okay?”
“She stayed at our house. She’s fine but that’s a whole convoluted story I’ll have to tell you some other time.”
He nodded, his dreamy green eyes drinking in her face. She had an urge to kiss him!
“No way!” she shouted inside her head. But her body said, “Way!” She felt herself tilt toward him as if her breast, completely on its own, sought solace in his chest. His lips parted ever so slightly, an invitation to….
“Well, I’d better get back at it,” he said, backing up and breaking the spell.
“Oh. Yeah. Me, too. Back at it.”
“I’ll see you around.”
“Ah huh. ’Bye.”
She hightailed it back to Mama Mamie’s kiosk where Rose waited, albeit standing in front of the table instead of behind it with her grandmother.
Rover stood next to his girl, dutifully guarding his charge.
Dalia could tell the child had a straight-line view of the spot where she and Deputy McIntyre had been talking.
“Mommy,” Rose said as soon as Dalia reached her, “you gonna marry that dep-itty?”
“What? No! Why no. Whatever made you say that?”
“He wanted to kiss you.”
“Really? How do you know that?”
“That’s what they do in movies I watch with Grammy on TV while you’re at the res-trant.
They always want to kiss but they don’t.
They just stand there staring at each other.
” The little girl opened her eyes wide and comically wobbled her head.
“Then at the end they kiss and get married. It always happens that way.”
“Well, this is no movie and I’m not marrying the deputy. Why, I hardly know the man.”
“He don’t care. He wants to kiss you.” Rose put up her palms as if that was a given.
People jostled them to get to the goods, so Dalia pulled Rose around their table and into the kiosk with her, thinking about how her love life had become so desperate she was taking advice from a five-year-old.
But what if the kid was right? What if Brody McIntyre had wanted to kiss her? Because she sure as hell wanted to kiss him back. The heat level that guy gave off might make her spontaneously combust.