Page 25 of Between Love and War
I don’t flinch. Just grab the folded bills in my back pocket (probably more than five thousand), drop them into his cash box, and wave him off.
“You’re getting them all?” he stammers.
“No,” I say, picking up only four skewers. “I only need these. The rest… you keep. For the check-up.”
His eyes widen. “Sir, that’s—”
“Don’t mention it.” I take a bite of my skewer and start walking after Kate. “And let me know how the check-up goes, okay?”
Behind me, I hear him calling out blessings, and I smile.
By the time I catch up, Kate’s already at the next stall, clutching her skewer like a shield.
“You’re still here?” she asks, glaring at me over a row of homemade soaps. She takes one bar and smells it, then puts it back.
“It’s community service.”
“Community service implies you’re making the place better,” she mutters. “Not… whatever you’re doing.”
“Pretty sure one extra sale for each stall is making it better, Katie,” I mumble. She huffs, ignoring me, picks one up—lavender-scented, wrapped in brown paper. Drops it in her tote and pays for it.
“Good choice, Katherine,” the older lady says.
“Thank you,” Kate says.
“Your handsome boyfriend will love it,” she replies.
Kate sputters. “He’s not… We are not—”
“I think it smells amazing,” I say, taking the same soap. She glares, clutching her tote like a shield, and storms toward the next stall.
Behind us, the gossip hum rises again—whispers, giggles, a dramatic “bless her heart” that makes me laugh out loud.
Suddenly, I forget about the headlines outside of this place.
CHAPTER TEN
Kate
After the terrible disruption of my lovely holiday tradition, I proceeded to spend the rest of my weekend the way I usually do.
I pre-mixed my dough and froze them, so I only have to heat them in the oven for this week’s lounge pastries for Lily’s. I finished a book about a woman who killed her husband and spent the whole book running away from it. I also finished the latest season of Bridgerton (Safe to say, the second one was still IT for me). And, lastly, I was able to draft an outline for this year’s event.
I’m about to enter my car to go to school today when Michael opens the passenger door and gets in.
“What are you doing?” I buckle my seatbelt.
“Going to school, what does it look like?” He removes my lesson plans from the seat and places them on his lap as he, again, extends the seat so it can fit him.
“Okay, let me rephrase,” I say. “What makes you think I’m still taking you?”
“Oh, come on,” he replies. “The Kindle was a harmless prank.” He buckles his seatbelt as if he’s already sure I won’t budge. “And I helped with your kindness tradition.”
“Well, it’s not harmless if I get regular recommendations for gelatin recipes and exorcism tales.”
He laughs. So loud, I feel my car vibrate. He’s still wheezing when he says, “That’s gold.” I look at him with a pointed expression until his laughs turn to chuckles and then silence. “I’m not getting out, Katie.” I narrow my eyes at him until he adds, “I am sorry, though. I’ll make it up to you.”
“Nope. You’re gonna ruin whatever it is for me, I’m sure.”
