Page 43 of Apple of My Eye
‘We didn’t bring too much,’ I tell Betsy for the thousandth time this morning. We’re setting up the stand in the back corner of the town farmers’ market. The last weekend of August has brought a chill to the air and slight haze of fog on the hills around the town, fall arriving in perfect timing for the Fall Festival. I’m looking forward to a steaming cup of coffee as soon as we get everything squared away.
Buttercup squeals loudly from the pen we’ve put her in next to the tent. Bringing her was my idea. Joe was reluctant at first, but Betsy convinced him. And I convinced her when I showed her how many views the video of the pigs had.
‘Fifty thousand?’ she exclaimed. I thought she might faint right there in the kitchen.
It took a lot of convincing, but I finally got Betsy to agree to unpack all the apple butter, apple jam, and apple cider vinegar they had in storage.
‘We used to sell lots of these,’ she said, blowing the dust off the tops of the lids.
‘You’re sure they’re still good?’ I asked, surveying the damp underground storage hatch filled to the brim with jars.
‘You tell me.’ Betsy cracked open a jar of jam and stuck in her pinky.
I did the same. The flavor was incredible. It tasted just like a crisp fall afternoon. ‘Wow,’ I said, ‘you’ve been hiding this from me all this time? Why have I been eating blackberry jam at breakfast?’
Betsy laughed, a sound that has been more frequent lately. ‘Oh, stop.’ She swatted at my arm, blushing.
I glance at the table we’ve set up, jam jars arranged in neat lines behind little placards. Betsy squirms from her seat behind the table.
‘It looks like we expect to sellallof this stuff,’ she says.
‘We do.’
She squirms again. ‘It just seems .?.?.’ She trails off, looking at the other stalls in the vicinity.
‘It has nothing to do with being humble,’ I tell her firmly. ‘We are giving the people what they want.’ I cross my fingers behind my back. Ireallyhope I’m right.
It’s still early in the day and other farms are just starting to set up their stands. I’m looking around the Main Street when I spot Eloise hauling boxes with her mom. They must have gotten here earlier than we did, because while we are sequestered away, left to the back corner of the market, Eloise and her mother are front and center, their booth in the best location.
Betsy catches my eye.
‘Go help them,’ she shoos me off. ‘I’ve got it here. We won’t open for another hour anyway.’
I nod and dash towards the truck.
‘Nick!’ Hazel says warmly, immediately depositing a pie in my hand. There’s a few slices taken out of it already. ‘Bring that to Betsy, will you?’
‘Sure.’ I place it on a nearby table to free up my hands to help Eloise with a box she’s lugging towards their tent.
‘Anderson Family Farm’ is emblazoned in red across the top of a banner.
‘Thank you.’ Eloise relaxes a bit. The box is heavy but easy to carry with both of us doing the lifting. She cranes her neck around from one side of the box and smiles at me, but it doesn’t reach the corner of her eyes. Something feels off.
‘Is Evan here?’ I ask.
She smiles for real this time, rolling her eyes. ‘He’s coming later. He’s terrible at alarms.’
I bite my tongue from saying something judgmental, like asking aloud how Eloise would ever think someone terrible at alarms would be a good match for her. We put the box down and repeat the process with three more crates, lugging them to the tent in silence.
‘Lou?’ Hazel asks, peeking her head around the front of the truck. It’s amazing to me how much they look alike, even though Eloise doesn’t think so. Hazel has the same tendrils of hair that curl up around her face. She has the same dynamic smile, the one that completely betrays her if she isn’t actually happy.
‘Could you grab me a coffee? I think Carnation Cup just opened.’ She nods in the direction of the nearby intersection and sure enough there is already a line forming in front of the coffee stand.
Eloise jerks her head at me. ‘Do you want anything?’
‘You two just go together.’ Hazel waves us off.
If I’m not mistaken, she winks at Eloise as we walk away.
