Page 60 of Horn of Plenty
Lily cozied up next to her and took the photo. “This is so cool! Thanks, Mae! I mean, Mabel!” The teen glanced over at a table displaying a myriad of colorful produce. “I’m going to get the red peppers for the quiche, okay, Mom?” the girl announced.
“Go ahead, honey,” Reba said, shaking her head with a good-natured grin stretched across her usually scowling face.
“Bye, Farm to Mabel!” Lily added, then wove her way through the crowd toward the table loaded with the vibrant vegetables.
Mabel adjusted her hat. “Wow, that was—”
“Intense! These teenage years are something else,” Reba supplied. “But Lily was hoping she’d get to see you today when she saw you were here. I’m glad we ran into you.”
Mabel nodded politely, but this was getting out of control. Here’s what she knew. People recognized her—like random people at the farmers’ market. Someone she’d taken a selfie with earlier must have posted and used the Farm to Mabel hashtag. That was the only explanation.
That had to be it.
She hadn’t posted anything about her trip to the city on the web.
Left alone with Reba, Mabel twisted the strap of her purse nervously. Without Lily as a buffer, an awkward silence set in when she remembered what she’d brought along with her. She reached inside her crossbody bag, then removed an envelope. “I was going to slide this under your door before I left the city, Reba, but I might as well give it to you now.”
“What is it?” the woman asked with a crease to her brow.
“It’s the back rent I owe. I’m sorry that it took so long to get it to you,” she replied, hating that she’d left town the way she did.
Reba took the envelope. “I appreciate this. I’m sure the landlord will, too.”
Mabel nodded. “Well…” she began, trying to find the words to part with Lily’s mother, but Reba interrupted her.
“I had you pegged as irresponsible, and frankly, more than just a little vain,” the woman shared.
Oh no! Here it comes!
Her heart sank, but Reba wasn’t wrong. While her time in New York had revolved around her love of fashion and her desire to explore the world, she had misrepresented herself—and she’d let Lily in on that. It was a terrible example to set for a young woman.
“But I misjudged you, Mabel,” Reba continued.
“What?” she replied—not expecting that at all.
Lily’s mother patted her arm. “What you’ve done for that farming community in your hometown is remarkable. And what you’re doing for kids like Lily is equally commendable.”
Mabel glanced from side to side. Everything looked normal—the people, the farm stands, the sky, the ground, and the trucks honking in the distance. She was awake. She had to be awake. This couldn’t be a dream.
“I don’t understand. What have I done for Lily?” she stammered. She’d never expected her Bella Mae followers to seek her out as Farm to Mabel or continue posting about her on the Bella Mae sites.
“Lily started an herb garden in her room, and she cares about where her food comes from. And she’s made friends with kids who share those interests. She met them volunteering in a community garden,” Reba said, grinning ear to ear.
“Did she?” Mabel replied, looking over to observe Lily chatting with a farmer at a booth with jars of jam and honey.
“She still likes the clothes and pretty jewelry, but you’ve opened her eyes to something new. You’ve made caring about community cool,” Reba added.
“Wow, I had no idea,” Mabel answered—still not one hundred percent sure this wasn’t a dream.
“How long will you be in New York?” the woman asked.
Now that was the question. Mabel took in the farmers’ market—the vibrant colors and the hardworking people staffing the booths.
Once upon a time, she thought this city was the gateway to a new life. In a way, it was. Perhaps Cal outing her was a blessing. Bella Mae had been her attempt at gaining notoriety and acceptance—an acceptance she didn’t think possible for a nobody from a tiny farm town. She’d gauged her value with likes and shares. But she didn’t need to pretend she was someone else to make an impact.
The only person who can decide if she’s a nobody is herself. Not Cal. Not her father. Not anyone.
The choice was hers.
