Page 29 of A Ferry Merry Christmas
“They are,” Reed agreed. “You should have one.” He immediately caught the attention of the Asian woman who sat on an upturned wooden crate, working on wrapping up the bouquets.
“Reed, no.” Kellie reached for his forearm, stopping him. “I didn’t mean for you to—”
“Let me do this as a small appreciation for saving me from a boring afternoon,” Reed insisted. “Pick whichever one you like best.”
Kellie hesitated. Each arrangement was so beautiful, it was difficult to choose. After looking over several, she pointed to one with sprigs of holly along with the red and white carnations and roses.
“That Christmas-looking one,” she said, glancing back at Reed.
“Perfect.”
The older woman named the price.
Kellie swallowed hard. She’d inadvertently chosen one of the priciest bunches available. She wanted to protest but didn’t have the heart to disappoint Reed, as he seemed intent on purchasing her the flowers.
“Thank you,” she said, being as gracious as she could and yet a bit reluctant. Reed had already paid for their lunch. When dating Jude, they’d always shared expenses. Kellie was accustomed to paying her way.
The shopkeeper wrapped the bouquet in newspaper and then in a clear bag before handing it to Kellie. She winked at her and whispered, “Hang on to him, dear, he’s a keeper.”
If Reed heard he pretended not to, for which Kellie was grateful.
“I’ll carry it,” he offered, taking the bouquet from her.
They continued down the packed corridor, working their way through the throng of shoppers and others like them simplyenjoying the sights and sounds of the market. Passing a variety of meat and vegetable stands, they eventually edged to the stalls selling handcrafts and homemade specialties.
Kellie paused in front of the booth selling small figurines made from the ash of the Mount Saint Helen’s volcano. “I think Harrison might appreciate this.” Her brother was a history buff. The eruption happened in 1980 before either of them had been born and remained an important part of history for the Pacific Northwest. It amazed her, after all these years, that the ash was still readily available.
She chose a bear figurine, as her brother’s high school sports teams were known as the Grizzlies. Not that he participated in sports his senior year. Harrison would have been a great football player, except his low grades had kept him off the team. Harrison’s lack of interest in academics had caused a rift between her brother and their father. Thankfully, that had changed after he’d enlisted in the Navy. She knew Harrison had a good relationship with their parents these days, and that pleased her.
Kellie paid, and Reed added the small paper bag into the one with the flowers.
The stall next door sold homemade jams and jellies. Reed paused there to read over the labels. “My sister loves spicy food. I bet she’d enjoy this raspberry-jalapeño jam.”
“Perfect for Christmas Morning breakfast,” Kellie agreed.
Reed added that to their sack along with their other purchases.
They left the market and discovered a Christmas bazaar across the street under a large white tent. With time to explore, they ventured inside. Kellie discovered a booth selling hand-spun yarn in a variety of enticing colors.
“Do you knit?” Reed asked.
“I did years ago while in college.” Viewing the yarn brought back a flood of warm memories. “I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed it. My roommate and I took up knitting, but that was years ago.” She paused and stifled a laugh. “In an act of dedication and love, I decided to knit my college boyfriend a sweater.”
“I hope he appreciated all the time and effort that went into the project.”
Unable to hold back her amusement any longer, Kellie burst out laughing. “The sweater was a disaster. He was polite enough to thank me, but he never wore it, and I don’t blame him. I believe it ended up lining his dog’s bed.”
Reed chuckled.
“I haven’t knit anything since then. I still have my knitting needles, although I have no idea where I tucked them away.” She picked up a skein of light brown yarn.
The young woman at the booth said, “Feel how soft it is? This yarn comes from Tinkerbell, one of my favorite sheep. I blended her wool with cashmere, which is why it’s so soft.”
Pressing the yarn against her cheek, Kellie had to agree. It was amazingly soft and pliable.
“There’s enough yardage to knit up a hat or a pair of fingerless gloves,” the young sheep herder/yarn dyer pressed.
Simply holding the yarn in her hands gave Kellie the urge to take up knitting again. “It’s been years since I held a pair of needles.”
