Page 25 of Merrily Ever After
“It’s for my sister.”
“Right.” She hesitates. “Are you sure you don’t want the gingerbread men?”
“They look delicious.”
“They are.”
“Exactly.” I can tell she doesn’t get it, though, and after oohing and ahhing over a few things, I promise her I’ll swing back if I can’t find anything else and go to check out the next few sellers. But to my disappointment, everything is very … normal.
I keep going, past the butchers and the bakers and the literal candlestick makers. Past the handmade wooden toys and silk scarves and endless jewelry stalls and hundreds of things that would make a beautiful and thoughtful gift for someone. I walkuntil I reach the very back, where the stalls become tables and the office workers thin out and I find a disheveled man standing guard over his wares.
“Are you part of the market?” I ask.
“Yes.”
Checks out. I glance at his table, examining the variety of unmarked jars and a basket of what looks like little pastries.
“Is that baklava?” I ask.
“No.”
I point to the pint of murky liquid next to it.
“What’s that?”
“Soup.”
“What kind of soup?”
He scowls at me. “Christmas soup.”
Jackpot.
“I’ll take it.”
He doesn’t seem surprised. “Allergic to pickles?”
I shake my head, handing over the money. “So there’s pickles in it?”
“No,” he grunts and gives me the container. It’s unusually heavy and I have to grip it with both hands.
It also feels a little warm. “This will keep until next week, right? It’s a gift.”
“Should be good until March.”
“If I put it in the freezer?”
“No.”
Worrying.
“Have a wonderful day,” I tell him, but he ignores me as he restacks his jars.
I clutch my soup to my stomach and make my way back through the market, humming along to a tinny version of ‘Jingle Bell Rock’ playing from one of the stalls. I think I could really get into this holiday thing. Sinead was right. A few decorationsnever hurt anyone. Maybe Tiernan and I could pick out a tree together. Or we could get matching pajamas. Orboth.
“Christmas,” I whisper as I punch the crosswalk button. That’s who I am. Little Miss Christmas. Little Miss—
“Watch out!”
