Chapter Seven
Sylvia
Some of the images I painted were of local sights, others from places only vaguely remembered. Wanting each one to be unique required digging deep in my memories, wondering if they were real or just imagination.
It didn’t matter, I supposed, since I wasn’t asserting any of them were a particular place, but as I stroked the brush over the cardstock, they felt very real in my mind.
Lakes, rivers, mountains. In reality, I couldn’t possibly have been to them all, but as I lined them up to dry, I recognized that they represented more than places I might have gone or things I’d seen, remembered, or suppressed.
They were more than that. Places I wanted to go, things I dreamed of seeing someday.
If I spent the rest of my life secluded in this turret, I’d never see any of that.
The week between the first purchase of my work and the following Saturday’s farmers market, I doubled down to paint as many cards as possible, while still keeping them different and fresh.
Excitement vied with nerves as the day grew closer, and I stayed up late, even though I preferred the daylight, wanting to make sure I had enough completed to make it worth my customer’s while. What would he do with all of it?
Maybe he owned a shop of some kind? The fact he was interested in meeting the artist made me think perhaps it was a business that featured local talent.
Not that I was talented or anything but I was local.
And most of the first batch of cards were done from the actual plants and landscapes.
I hadn’t gotten particularly imaginative until now.
The night before the market, I stayed up very late, not stopping work until I recognized that there wouldn’t be time for the paint to dry on any more cards.
Then, without even changing to night clothes, I crawled between the sheets and sighed.
Showering could wait until the morning. I’d done everything I could, and I’d committed to attending in the morning.
Unless I suddenly developed typhoid or something, I would have to do it.
The very thought of all that exposure made me cringe, but I would not let down the people who made it possible for me to live in my turret in peace.
Expecting to lie awake and worry, I instead fell into a deep and peaceful sleep, not waking until Lily’s voice cut through my dreams.
“Sylvia, are you ready to go?”
Ready? I struggled to sit up and pushed the blankets to the foot of the bed.
The one time I had to get up and go somewhere in months, and I overslept.
No, I wasn’t ready to go, but it wasn’t as if I could yell, “Wait a second” or “I have to shower.” Now, I had to choose between keeping everyone waiting and going without a chance to freshen up after working for over sixteen hours the day before.
No, it was not hard labor, but I still managed to work up a sweat when hurrying to finish.
And I was not planning to go out in public stinky.
Scooting down the stairs, I leaned out into the main house and held up five fingers.
“All right.” She smiled. “But since it looks like you just woke up and I had allowed time for breakfast, why don’t you take ten?”
With ten minutes, I stood a chance of looking human.
Or at least clean. Not wasting any of the time allotted to me, I showered and washed my hair, towel dried all of me, yanked my hair into a high ponytail, and quickly slipped into the jeans and top I’d laid out three days previous.
I added the cards that had been drying all night to the basket with the others, put on socks and high-tops, and started down the stairs, halfway, before turning to dash back up and get my glasses.
“Here you are,” Lily said, taking the basket from me.
“There’s a coffee and a croissant on the counter for you to eat on the way.
I can’t wait for you to see the market.” She accompanied me out to the car, chattering away while my nerves screamed for me to go back inside and up into my haven.
Would it really matter if I went? The guy probably just wanted to say something pleasant to me like compliments to the chef.
And if I showed up then ran away to hide, how bad would I make my friends look?
When I hesitated outside the car door, Lily opened it for me. “There’s no need to worry. Rumor and I have your back, and if you get uncomfortable at any time, you can signal me, and I’ll see to it you get right home, okay?”
Nodding, I shrugged.
“You’re right. We need to set up the signal. Any ideas?”
I gave a thumbs-up, but she shook her head. “No, because you might do that anyway.”
A thumbs down was similarly rejected, although since I was not Nero, I had probably never given one in my life. But, I tried one last gesture, and she burst into laughter.
“I never thought you’d flip me the bird, but that should cover it. How about you just give me the sign for home?”
With that, I climbed into the car, feeling like I was going to my own execution.
Despite myself, I was charmed by the first sight of the farmers market.
I’d pictured a bunch of people sitting behind tables selling turnips, cabbages.
Possibly a flower vendor, and I knew there was a bakery stand, but what lay before me were of course every kind of in-season fruit and vegetable, but so much more.
Apparently craftspeople were welcomed, which made perfect sense when I thought of it.
After all, we were selling my cards. Three grandmotherly types were sitting on chairs knitting away, their stand filled with afghans and scarves, hat and mittens, sweaters even.
A candy booth sold hand-dipped truffles and seasonal candy apples.
On the way to our assigned spot, we passed the baker who made the fairy bread, and they were featuring all sorts of pumpkin treats.
Breads, pies, rolls, and I didn’t know what all.
My head swiveled from side to side, taking in everything around me. People were bustling around, setting out their products, greeting one another in cheerful tones, and my heart ached with the desire to be part of all of this.
Lily paused by an empty stand and set down the boxes she carried. “We used to be way back there, but we got a chance to move, and I think we’ve done much better here. Nice, isn’t it?”
It was very nice, if I could get my heart rate down.
Yes, I wanted to be someone who came here every week and waved at friends, but it was overwhelming already, and only the other vendors were here.
How was I going to handle it when the aisles filled with customers?
Or, worse, when the man showed up specifically to meet me?
I helped Lily and Rumor, who had her child with her, set up, but then signed restroom, and left the booth, wanting to get it together. If I could. This was a huge mistake.