Chapter 13 Leith
Leith
During the winter, Sweetwater Peak held an indoor market in lieu of the summer farmers’ market.
The winter market was less focused on food and more focused on handmade wares.
It also functioned as a sort of swap meet where people would bring their old shit and trade it for other people’s old shit that was a better fit for them.
It felt like everything in this town was cyclical.
Or maybe circular was a better word for it.
It wasn’t regular or predictable, but everything always came back around, no matter what—either in its original form or as something new.
One time, Lainey bought a purse made out of a few old pairs of Levi’s that she realized were the same ones she’d swapped a few years prior (she had written her name in Sharpie on the inside of the back pockets).
Personally, I like the indoor market way more than the farmers’ market—mostly because I didn’t have to do much for it.
During the summer, we hosted the market at the farm, which meant a lot for me to manage.
I liked the hands-on parts of farming: optimizing the season, working with the farmhands, training our animals, digging holes, and planting shit, but I wasn’t good with the emails and the spreadsheets, the systems and the admin.
I was a good teacher, but not a very good manager.
My dad had never taught me that part himself.
He told me that the most important part of owning the farm was to be a good farmer, and I was.
But I was learning that the rest of it was also pretty important, and it didn’t come as naturally to me as I thought it would.
The indoor market, however, was substantially less work for me. We usually still had a booth where we’d sell the in-season produce, like root vegetables, but we had sold all our supply by now, so today I got to simply be a shopper, just like everyone else.
Also, since it was inside an old warehouse, it put everyone there in much closer quarters. And that was perfect because I wanted as many eyes on Clarke and me as possible.
She was fiddling with a few of the silver rings on her fingers while I tried to fill the truck with chatter. The clink of the rings was making me jumpy.
“Are you nervous?” I asked.
“Aren’t you?” Clarke asked.
Honestly, I wasn’t. I thought we were a pretty believable couple.
We were both Sweetwater Peak locals from families who contributed to the local economy.
Plus, a lot of the comments on the Sweetwater Peakers thread said that we were “well matched.” All in all, I was feeling confident about this part of the plan.
I was less confident about what came after—using the whole thing to somehow convince Ron that the terms of the estate had been or would imminently be fulfilled—without having to somehow take this thing to the next level.
“Nope. I think this is going to be a breeze.”
Clarke let out something that sounded somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “Is that so?”
“Yep.” I nodded as I pulled off to park on the shoulder. “I don’t think it’s outside of the realm of possibility for me to pull a girl that’s out of my league.”
On the other side of the bench seat, Clarke rolled her eyes, but it looked like there was a hint of a smile buried underneath. “I’m out of your league?”
“Leaps and bounds out of it, Clarke,” I said. “But I like to punch up.”
“You’re ridiculous,” she said.
I opened my door. “Stay there,” I said. “No one is going to believe we’re dating if I don’t open your door for you.” Another eye roll. Another buried smile that I became more determined by the second to fully excavate. Maybe I could trip and fall on my ass and get a real laugh out of her.
I made my way around the front of my truck, opened her door, and offered her my hand. She took it, and I felt something sort of zing up my arm. Too much static, probably.
Clarke started to pull her hand away, but I held on. “Might as well start now,” I said as I intertwined my fingers with hers.
“Oh, r-right,” Clarke replied, sounding a little flustered. “So how is this…going to go?”
“Like a date, Clarke,” I said. “A normal first date.” Clarke looked down at her shoes. I squeezed her hand. “What is it?”
“It’s just…” Clarke started and then stopped again. I didn’t interrupt this time. “I haven’t been on a first date—real or fake—in a long time.”
“Me either.” I shrugged. It was true. I dated outside of Ali during a few of our many “off” periods, but not for a while. Clarke was still looking down.
“Hey,” I said softly and used our locked fingers to pull her a little closer to me.
“We’re in this together, Clarke.” She looked up at me, and I saw those gold flecks in her hazel eyes when she nodded.
“All you have to do is keep hold of my hand at the market,” I said. “I’ll take care of the…razzle-dazzle.”
There was that little smile again. “Oh yeah? What’s the razzle-dazzle?”
I nodded. “It’s better if you don’t know.” Clarke raised a brow at me. “Don’t worry. I remember our rules.”
“I trust you,” Clarke said after a few beats. A simple statement, but I felt it land right in the center of my chest. “Shall we?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Let’s do this.” Our steps crunched over the soft shoulder of the road—gravel and dirt mixed with ice and snow.
The warehouse used to house the original Sweetwater Peak saltwater taffy factory.
I felt like I could still smell sugar, salt, and the signature chokecherry flavor in the air.
It was made of old, weathered wood with a roof that had been patched in several places.
If the wind picked up, the building would rock back and forth with it.
Clarke’s grip tightened on my hand as we got closer.
“Ready?” I said as we approached the door. I couldn’t believe we hadn’t encountered anyone on our walk from the car, but I didn’t know if that was better or worse.
I guess we were about to find out.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Clarke said quietly. I reached out and tugged on the door handle. When it creaked open, I saw Mrs. Papadakis’s head turn toward us first—almost in slow motion. She nudged Ms. Rossum next to her, and from there, it was dominoes.
It felt like every eye in the room was on us in a matter of seconds.
I couldn’t hear the whispers over the music playing on a nearby boom box, but I knew they were happening.
I noticed Clarke slow next to me, so I let go of her hand and slung my arm over her shoulder—that way I could keep her close.
“Put your arm around my waist,” I murmured against her hair. I felt her hesitate for half a second before I felt the light touch of her hand on me, then she leaned into me for good measure. Attagirl.
We walked for a little bit, looking at the booths while it seemed like everyone else was looking at us. Clarke got more comfortable with every step she took—waving hi to people, asking them how their kids or pets were, or giving them an update on a vintage repair that Toades was doing for them.
This was the Clarke Cartwright charm—even though it was never aimed at me, I’d seen the effect it had on other people. As we passed and continued to greet the locals, their faces went from shocked to smiling.
“Oooh, we should look at those.” Clarke turned her face up to me and then pointed to a booth in the corner of the warehouse. I squinted—trying to see what it was. “They’re bookmarks,” Clarke said. “Maybe Lainey would like them?”
I knew it was part of the show we were giving the town, but Clarke thinking about something Lainey would like made me feel kind of…off balance? Like I was wearing a lift in one of my boots but not the other.
Clarke shrugged out from under my arm but grabbed hold of my hand and pulled me toward the booth. “Hi, Bea,” Clarke said to the girl behind the booth. “How’s your grandma feeling after her hip replacement?”
How did Clarke know all this about these people? In Sweetwater Peak, it seemed like everybody knew everything about everyone, but it was always in a small-town gossip sort of way. Clarke knew the meaningful stuff. The stuff that people held the closest to them.
“She’s okay,” the girl—Bea—said. “I meant to write you a thank-you note for the lasagna, but…”
Clarke held a hand up and smiled at Bea.
“You’re so welcome. Did you make all of these?
” I looked at Bea’s wares. There were a bunch of different types of bookmarks: resin ones with dried flowers, wooden ones with scenes burned into them, and a few that looked like they’d started as geodes, but had been sliced thin enough to fit comfortably within the pages of a book.
Bea nodded and pushed her glasses up her nose. “My grandpa helped me with the geode ones because I have to use the tile saw, but I found the rocks first.”
“They’re really beautiful,” Clarke said, taking a few small steps down the length of the table as she perused.
I watched her pick up a resin one with deep red rose petals and dark green fern leaves inside of it.
“What do you think? Good for Lainey’s vampire phase?
” Clarke was smiling at me, and I noticed the dimple she had on one side of her mouth.
It occurred to me that Clarke was too far away, so I looped my pointer finger through the belt loop at her hip and tugged her toward me. “Yeah,” I replied as she playfully swatted at my chest. “It’s perfect.”
“How much?” Clarke asked Bea.
“Five,” Bea said. “If that’s okay.”
“Of course that’s okay,” Clarke said. “You’re super talented.”
I reached for my wallet and pulled out a ten before Clarke could even think about trying to pay for it. I handed it to Bea, whose eyes widened behind her glasses. “No change,” I said with a nod. “Thank you.”
Bea wrapped the bookmark up for us and slid a small, dried rose in the white string she used to secure it all. “I hope Lainey likes it,” she said.
“I know she will,” I said. “Have a good one.” I intertwined Clarke’s fingers with mine as we walked away and was surprised by how natural it felt.
“Razzle-dazzle,” Clarke said under her breath.
I grinned. “Too much?” I asked. I watched her swallow and saw pink color her cheeks.
“No,” she breathed. “I, um, I…liked it.”
I felt a satisfied smile creep its way onto my face. “Note to self, Clarke likes the belt loop tug,” I said and her cheeks flushed pinker, and I felt untouchable. “Off to a great start.”