Page 98 of Always Meant for You
Ruben straightens. “Let me go grab some of that pie from the kitchen for you.”
I adjust the tail of my scarf. With the sisters here, it’s a good time to float the date change idea.
“Will the pies last until Saturday?” I ask, hating to upset Cal, but this is important.
“Absolutely. They’ll hold. Might even taste better,” Margaret replies. “It’ll give the fruit and sugar time to settle in proper. Why do you ask?”
I take a steady breath. “I’ve been wondering if it might make sense to move the farmers’ market to Saturdays. More people are off work, and it could bring in families. With the right support, it could become a destination event with music, food, and some kid-friendly activities. What do you think?”
Betty winks at me.
Wow!
Margaret lights up. “That’s a wonderful idea, Mabel. I don’t know why we didn’t think of it ourselves.”
Betty’s typing on her phone.
“What are you doing, Betty?” I ask, watching her thumbs fly across the screen with unexpected speed.
“She’s putting it to a vote,” Margaret says, answering for her sister. “Thanks to our fancy new Wi-Fi, we can connect anytime and anywhere.”
I sit back, wide-eyed. “You guys are pretty tech savvy.”
“You can thank the library for that,” Margaret gushes. “God bless every librarian and volunteer in that building. The senior tech classes are so much fun. Claudine is an excellent teacher. Sally loves playing around with the programs, and Betty might become a hacker in her spare time.”
“Really?” I ask.
“Mm-hmm,” Betty replies, gaze locked on her cell.
Margaret glances at her sister’s phone, then sets her sights on Cal. “Cal, honey, what’s your vote?”
“I’m a no,” Cal says, arms crossed. “We need to be consistent. We started on a Tuesday. We keep it on a Tuesday.”
I shake my head. “You’re going to have to learn to trust me, Cal.”
He doesn’t meet my gaze.
“Don’t worry about him.” Margaret chuckles. “Cal’s doing what Capricorns do.”
Margaret pats Gladys’s hand. “Isn’t he a hoot, Mrs. Horner? A real hoot, that grandson of yours.”
Betty tilts her phone toward Margaret.
“Four to five,” Margaret announces. “It’s decided. The Elverna Farmers’ Market will now be held on Saturdays.” She smiles at Gladys. “What do you think of that, dear?”
“Scarf,” Gladys murmurs, her gaze locked on me. “Blue.”
My breath catches.
“This scarf ispink,Mrs. Horner,” I say gently, touching my neck. “It’s a vintage piece. If you look closely enough, there are little keys on it.”
“Sometimes my grandmother says things that don’t make sense,” Cal murmurs.
“Scarf. Blue scarf,” she says with a touch more strength to her words.
“No, Cal,” I whisper, remembering. “It does make sense.”
I untie the scarf from around my neck and place it softly in her lap. “You’re recalling the day you came into my kitchen with a casserole. I helped you with your blue scarf. The one looped through your purse strap.”
