Page 7 of Till The Cows Come Home
She giggled, but then her eyes were no longer on me, but past me.
“What?” I asked, but before she could answer, I heard someone clear their throat behind me.
As I spun around, my body nearly crashed into the tower of a man I’d met last week. I stuttered for a moment, attempting to formulate words, but they never came. Instead his big green eyes looked into mine, glistening with curiosity, and all I managed to do was stare back. His dark hair and full beard contrasted against the emerald pools, creating a beacon I couldn’t look away from, and my breath hitched as a smile spread across his face, smirking at my surprise.
“Good morning, Miss Baker.”
Chapter Five
Miles
Each Saturday morning I brought Beth coffee, a tradition she fought at first, but eventually gave into. Not only did she crumble into said companionship, but now when I approached her booth, instead of exchanging pleasantries, she greeted me with an outstretched hand, uninterested in my chit chat until she’d secured her cup. After the first sip, her face would warm, and we’d talk about new products or the weather, but this morning I attempted to nonchalantly slip in a question about Sage’s market schedule.
Her eyebrow raised. “Why do you ask?”
“I just hadn’t seen her before last weekend, and I haven’t seen her today, so I didn’t know if she told you if she planned on coming this weekend or not. Also, I don’t remember you mentioning her at all, now that I think of it.”
I didn’t mean to sound accusatory, but it pained me to think that Beth’s connection was to the farm I represented all this time, not to me.
“What do you say to someone, happy as a clam in their new endeavor? It’s like choosing your favorite kid. You just don’t. I love Sage, but I hate to say you’ve grown on me too,and it has nothing to do with the farm. If she told me she was making an appearance last weekend, I probably would have tried to reduce the damage, but alas, you kids figured it out yourselves. As for this week, she made it pretty clear that she intended on staying home.”
“I’m not sure I have anything figured out, Beth.”
“Oh, honey. You’re not alone. That was Sage’s first time back to the center of town in three years. And I don’t think she's particularly happy with how she treated you, she’s just trying to figure things out herself. But you’re not solving anything leaving your booth unattended, leaving customers waiting, so get going.”
“Shit,” I mumbled, realizing there were indeed people beginning to congregate around the stall.
I jogged over to my spot behind the table, switching on my customer service persona, apologizing to those I’d kept waiting, but I couldn’t help my wandering gaze that looked over their shoulders, scanning the crowd for Sage. I’d never intended to make her feel unwelcome in what I assumed was one of the few places still connecting her to her old life, and a tinge of guilt ate at me for keeping her away.
The market was busy for a few moments, the early birds securing their goods before the clock even had a chance to strike eight, but this wasn’t anything new. It often slowed down for a bit, a small pause before the true opening, and like clockwork, after about twenty minutes the crowd began to disperse. I knew a second wave would come soon after, but an idea had popped in my head while I was chatting with customers, so I approached Beth a second time to see if she’d be an accomplice to my new plan.
“If I gather up a bunch of stuff, will you drop it off to her?”
Beth looked up from the bread she’d been restocking, her eyebrow raised for the second time today. At this point withmy decision making, this look was bound to be a permanent fixture on her face.
“You want to buy her groceries?”
“I would be trading for them with these.” I smiled, holding up a milk crate full of bottles. “It seems like the least I could do since I scared her away. You could say it’s from you.”
“First of all, she's the one who yelled at you, and you didn’t scare her, she's just being proud. Secondly, I’m most certainly not taking credit for this. If you want to do it, you gotta own it.”
“I still don’t think she deserves to go without, so what do you say? I’ll take full responsibility if there’s wrath to bear.”
After pondering for far too long, she let out a long exhale.
“If you pack everything up and have it here before I leave, I’ll drop it off at her apartment on my way home.”
I gently squeezed her hands, thanking her, before beginning my way around the loop to barter. Throughout my short time at the market, I’d prioritized integrating myself into the community, and somehow along the way I’d established a trade with the sellers I’d befriended. Before I left for the day, I’d lug my crate around, sometimes filled with milk, others with cheese, and each time upon my return it’d be fuller than I started, overflowing with my exchange.
“Miles!”
My attention diverted to the familiar voice that just so happened to be co-manning my first stop.
“Mornin’ Miss Jessie! How do you do?”
“I won!” she squealed, bouncing up and down as the bubbles of her excitement escaped.
“Let's see her.”
