Page 146 of Always Meant for You
“A young man?” I repeat.
“She talked to a lot of people today,” Margaret adds. “But this one stood out.”
“Tall, handsome,” Sally offers. “And from Chicago.”
Chicago.
That word slides in under my skin, hot and prickling.
Margaret nods. “He had three helpings of casserole and bought two slices of blueberry pie, and he . . .”
Margaret’s talking, but none of it matters. I clench my jaw. “Did he seeminterestedin Mabel?”
Margaret chuckles. “She’s smart and beautiful, Cal. Of course, he’s interested in her. Every soul who set foot at the market looked her way.”
“She’s a real catch,” Sally says, beaming. “She’s got that Gemini energy.”
The knot in my chest tightens. I try to keep my expression neutral, but the ache beneath it pushes deeper.
“She’s earned every bit of today’s success,” Margaret says, pulling out her phone. “We should pay her.”
“Five thousand now, five thousand later?” Sally confirms.
“That’s right.” Margaret taps at her screen.
“Five thousand is a lot of money,” Sally muses. “A gal could go far with that amount.”
I don’t want Mabel to go far, and I hate that jolt of fear and unease tearing through me.
“You’re doing that from your phone?” I ask.
Margaret doesn’t look up. “I am.”
“She’s using an app,” Sally chimes. “Not the appetizer food kind. The computer kind.”
“I know what an app is, ma’am.”
Sally squeezes my arm. “Good for you, Cal. That’s being tech literate. That’s what we learn at the library.”
I manage a polite nod, but my focus is gone.
I need to find Mabel.
“That’s five thousand transferred,” Margaret announces.
“Do you know where she went?” I ask, my voice a touch sharper than intended.
Sally points down the block. “She was standing near a shiny black Mercedes with that man from the city.”
I rise, my chair scraping against the pavement. “I’ll go find her. We’ve got Eat Elverna business to wrap up.”
Sally takes my seat and leans back, a slow smile forming. “I’m sure you do, honey.”
“Tell her to check her bank account,” Margaret calls after me.
I nod and move into the crowd. The night presses in. The lights overhead blur at the edges. I quicken my pace, looking for her frame, her movement, her voice threading through the noise.
Why do I let fear take over? Why is it my default?
