Page 17 of Grit
“Okay, get everything ready. Market’s about the open and people are gonna be thirsty.”
Abby jogged from the truck to the booth, carrying a long bag of plastic lids. “Got ’em.”
“Okay, put some gloves on and start scooping ice from that bag there, okay?”
Something in Melissa’s heart twisted a little as she watched Cary walk Abby through making the lemonades, garnishing with fresh mint, and setting them out in an ice-water-filled plastic tub.
Her daughter was focused and attentive. Abby lived for praise from Cary. She thought he was the epitome of cool.
And Cary was always there for her daughter. Always. After Calvin had died, he’d made a point to be a regular part of her life. Abby invited him to soccer games and school programs, and Cary went to every one he could.
Melissa was both grateful and sad. She appreciated Cary, but she missed Calvin. She missed the grandfather who’d raised her. She missed the life her daughter didn’t have with the father who had adored her and wanted to teach her everything.
Abby should have had all those things. The fact that she didn’t sometimes gave Melissa random spikes of anger even though she knew her daughter was lucky in so many ways.
Melissa’s first customer came to the booth and distracted her. Then a second arrived. Then a third. And in the space of twenty minutes, she’d gone from contemplating the big questions in life to barely treading water selling fruits, vegetables, and preserves to city people with deep pocketbooks.
An hour later, she was able to catch her breath. She popped open the folding chair she’d brought and sat in the shade.
Cary dragged his chair over to hers and sat next to her. “Good traffic this morning.”
“Getting those food trucks to park over here helped.”
“So did all the businesses opening early on Saturday.”
Abby was still perched by the lemonade. “Mom, you want a lemonade?”
“Thanks, baby, but it’s too early.” Melissa squinted. “I really want a coffee. Is Kathy’s coffee cart here?”
Abby ran around Cary’s truck. “Yeah, I see her.”
Melissa rose and grabbed a small bag, stuffing four heirloom tomatoes inside. “See if she’ll trade tomatoes for coffee.” She looked at Cary. “You want one?”
“Please.”
Melissa stuffed two more tomatoes in and held them out for Abby, who sprinted away on gangly legs, dodging between customers and browsers.
Cary laughed behind her.
“What?” Melissa sat back down.
“That girl is all legs. It’s like they stretched out and the rest of her hasn’t caught up yet.”
Melissa smiled. “I was the same way.”
He cocked his head and glanced at her legs. “Yeah?”
“Yep. I was a fast runner for a couple of years at the end of elementary. Then the rest of the kids caught up and I stopped growing.”
“You’ve still got great legs.”
She felt the heat in her cheeks. “You can’t say stuff like that, Cary.”
“Says who?” He got up to sell some peaches to a woman with three kids who were grabbing all the samples on toothpicks.
By the time he sat back down, Melissa had customers. Cary sidled next to her and took orders to the couple waiting in line. He sold two cans of preserves and a couple of tomatoes before they were alone again.
Melissa was hoping he’d drop the legs comment and move on, but it was Cary, who didn’t know when to let anything lie.
