Chapter 13
When we arrive at the farmer’s market the next morning, the parking lot of the local baseball diamond is already full with vendors setting up tents, tables, and unloading their goods for the day.
Joining Tabitha was my idea, but in my defense, it seemed like a much better one last night when I was looking for ways to avoid a certain someone.
Shivering next to the trunk in the brisk fall air, my eyes barely open in the early dawn haze, I want nothing more than to crawl back into the warmth of my cozy bed—the one I had to vacate before five a.m. to make sure Tabitha didn’t leave me behind.
“Put some pep in your step, girl. We’re going to be late.” Tabitha passes me a tote bin, propping another on her hip before she shuts the trunk of Parker’s truck, which he let her borrow until the part comes in for her Jeep.
“Nobody in their right mind should be vertical this early. It’s inhuman.”
“Don’t you mean inhumane?” she asks, ushering me along the outfield where dozens of pop-up tents are set up in neat rows and locating our table amidst the other vendors setting up shop.
“Same difference,” I mutter, struggling to keep up. “Seriously, how do this many people collectively agree to social activities this early in the morning?” My frown deepens at her chuckle. “I’m so glad you’re enjoying this.”
“May I remind you that you’re the one who insisted on coming with me, even though you didn’t stumble through the door until after midnight?”
I pull my jacket tighter around me and grunt. “I didn’t stumble.”
She laughs, not bothering to lower her voice as people wander by. “You ping ponged your way down the hall to your room. Not to mention, you nearly threw yourself down the stairs this morning to catch me before I left.”
True, but that was by necessity, not choice.
My other option was facing Parker at the barn.
How was I supposed to do that after revealing as much as I did last night?
I practically admitted I’m attracted to him.
What scares me more than that is that those feelings didn’t seem entirely one-sided.
Do I really need to let myself get pulled into something that will make my life even more complicated than it already is?
What’s the point when it will blow up in my face like everything else?
He probably woke up just as baffled by last night as I am. The one good thing that came from last night is that we no longer actively hate each other, so there’s a chance that once we let whatever happened … fizzle a little … we might actually be friends.
I won’t lie; my pounding headache is helping me forget about any warm and fuzzy feelings brewing last night in the darkened bar.
“Buckle up, missy,” Tabitha says, insisting on speaking at a higher-than-usual volume this morning. “Everyone you’ll meet here has been up for hours. And you’re a new face, so they’re all going to want to talk to you.”
“Great,” I mumble. Just great.
Within thirty minutes, I’ve met Gretchen the jam-maker, Denise at the booth next door who sells free-range eggs, and Barb, who sells hand-knit Christmas ornaments year-round. All three ask if I’m married and have kids.
“Sorry about that,” Tabitha says after waving off the last of them. “They’re nosy but harmless.”
“I can’t wait for the day when the billboard above my head comes down.”
“Billboard?” she asks with a frown.
I take a last sip of coffee and set the empty travel mug under the table. “The one that says, ‘Ask me about my personal life.’ I figure it’ll happen at thirty-five.”
“Oh, honey,” Tabitha says, draping an arm over my shoulders. The easy gesture makes my heart swell. “I hate to break it to you. The questions? They never stop.”
“Seriously? Even for you?”
She nods, straightening the products displayed on the long folding table under our tent. “I’m a single woman in my fifties. What do you think? You’re shiny and new, so they were distracted today, but wait until next week. You’ll see.”
“If they were better friends, they’d have set you up with a hot piece of man candy by now.”
She makes a face and smacks my arm gently before rearranging the table. “Believe me, they try every week. I swear they have a rotation schedule of who’s trying to set me up—lately they’ve been inviting someone new to cards every week.” She rolls her eyes.
“And?”
She laughs. “And nothing. I’m like an old dog, set in my ways.
I love the farm and my studio. There was a time when I could have been whisked away from it, but that time is long gone.
I like my life, my routines. Things are perfect just as they are.
I don’t need somebody coming in and shaking things up now. ”
I feel a sharp dig in my ribs, reminded that I’m keeping something from her that is bound to shake things up, but swallow it down.
“You’re telling me you never think about getting back out there? Like, romantically?” I waggle my eyebrows playfully, suddenly feeling very invested in getting her on board with this.
She places her hands on my shoulders. “You’re sweet to worry about me, like all my meddlesome friends, but I’m not a hermit. I’m on the farmer’s market committee, and I play cards with my friends every Wednesday. I’m quite content.”
“Then it means absolutely nothing to you that a handsome man in a trucker hat is headed this way?”
She jumps and whips around. The man, dressed casually in jeans, work boots, and a puffy black vest over a green Henley, falters slightly, like he wasn’t expecting her to turn around so sharply. Hesitantly, he lifts his hand in a wave, smiling as he continues towards us.
“Oh, that’s just Jim,” Tabitha says, laughing me off. There’s a flush in her cheeks that has nothing to do with the brisk morning air.
“Just Jim, huh?” I tease. “Well, ‘Just Jim’ managed to turn your face awfully pink.”
“That’s—the wind,” she says nervously before he reaches us. “Jim, hi!”
I have to cover my smile with my hand at the loudness of her greeting, suppressing it quickly as he looks over at me. Tabitha, suddenly flustered, introduces me.
“It’s great to meet you finally,” he says. “Tabitha’s told me a lot about you.”
I shake his hand, smiling at Tabitha as I do. “Has she now?” I ask slowly. “So, you two know each other well, then?”
“Oh, you know,” Tabitha says casually, her voice still pitched at a higher-than-normal register. “It’s a small town.”
“It helps that we sit on the farmer’s market committee together,” Jim adds, giving me a soft, self-assured smile.
He’s tall, with thick brown hair graying at the temples under a trucker hat.
He gives off that wholesome, farmer vibe—and based on the way he keeps glancing at Tabitha, who is needlessly rearranging things on the table again, I’d guess he’s also single.
“Listen, not to pull you away from your lovely niece, but I wondered if you had time to discuss ideas for the last market?” He turns to me to explain.
“It’s been a slower-than-normal year, so we want to do something special for the last day to end with a bang and get people excited for next year.
We need to get creative to generate some interest, but so far, we’re stumped. ”
Looking around the sparsely attended market, I see his point.
I’m not at this time of year, but Tabitha has had a booth at the farmer’s market for years—every Thursday all summer and fall, like clockwork.
Second to the Christmas bazaars in December during the holiday season, it’s where she makes a decent chunk of her income every year.
But we’ve been standing here for an hour already, and although we had a few people stop to look, she hasn’t sold a single piece today.
“Sure, I suppose I can spare a few minutes,” Tabitha says, regaining her composure. “You don’t mind holding down the fort for a few minutes, do you, Sloan?”
Normally, I would agree in a heartbeat, but an idea tickles the back of my brain, and I pause. Tabitha’s already starting to move away, so sure that I’m going to tell her I’ve got it covered.
“This sounds like a bigger conversation than a few minutes, don’t you think?
” I say, surprising them both. “I mean, you want to ensure you’re setting next year’s market up for the kind of success these vendors depend on.
This is their livelihood, after all.” Tabitha looks at me warily, and I rush on, pretending to be struck with a brilliant idea.
“I know! Why don’t you talk about it over dinner? ”
“Dinner?!” Tabitha echoes, her head snapping between Jim and me.
“Tonight,” I say, careful not to make it sound like a question.
With his hands in his pockets, Jim dips his chin to hide his amusement. At least one of them is clueing in. “Sounds good to me,” he says, playing his part perfectly. “Is seven okay?”
Smooth. Tabitha, however, looks quite the opposite and has gone back to being completely and utterly flustered. “Oh—uh—I—”
“Seven is great,” I answer for her, grasping her arm and snapping her close to my side to steady her. The poor thing looks like she’s about to fall over. “You have the address to Salem Stables?”
He nods, his eyes twinkling—actually twinkling—with amusement. I’m pretty sure this guy walked straight out of a Hallmark movie. “Yes, ma’am. I’m up the road myself. We’re practically neighbors.”
“She’ll see you then!” I say firmly.
He nods, his eyes on Tabitha. “I’ll be looking forward to it. Nice to finally meet you, Sloan.” He tips the brim of his trucker hat at me and gives Tabitha one last charming smile.
“I can’t believe you,” Tabitha mutters as he strolls away. “Who are you, and what have you done to my niece?”
Frazzled, she busies herself with straightening up the already tidy booth. I can’t lie, I’m feeling smug—until I realize that Tabitha is going out tonight, which means I’ll be home alone without a buffer if a certain farmhand decides to stop in.