Page 26 of Forty and Fighting Dirty
I followed his pointed finger and huffed a laugh at his enthusiasm. There was a market stall with nothing but jerky, with a white-bearded man presiding over the whole thing. Nate loved jerky. “You want to get some?”
“Can we?” My eldest looked at me with big eyes.
I wasn’t above bribery, so I pulled out some money and handed a bill to each of the boys. “You can each pick one pack.”
They scurried over. Nate impulsively picked up and paid for the first bag of jerky he saw. Alec took his time, asking me to explain all the flavors lined up on the table before making his choice. I thanked the old man and guided my sons away from the stall, my shoulders easing a little more. Above and around us, the mountains carved across the sky in jagged lines. Their presence was comforting. The peaks were massive and unmoving, and being in their shadow made me feel like the world was a little steadier under my feet.
I’d find somewhere for us to live. I’d do a great job at work. I’d make a home for my boys, whether it was here or somewhere else. No one would make me feel small and worthless again.
A couple stalls down from the jerky was a booth with a big blue sign bearing bold black letters: “LOVERS PEAK CHARITY HOME RAFFLE.” A red strip had been stuck on the sign below the letters with white writing that proclaimed: “ALREADY 80% SOLD.” The woman behind the booth was bundled up in a fuzzy hat and puffy jacket to ward against the growing cold. Her cheeks were apple red as she smiled at me. “Would you like a ticket to the Lovers Peak Charity Home Raffle? You could win a house, and tickets are only five dollars!”
I patted my purse. “Already got mine.”
“See you next Saturday, then!” she called out.
“Next Saturday?”
“For the draw,” she replied, a slight frown forming between her brows. She picked up a neon yellow flyer and handed it over. It looked like a photocopy of a photocopy,with a small map showing the location of the community center and the date of the draw. One week from today.
“You can’t miss it. There’s food, a bunch of carnival games, and, of course, the draw,” the woman said. Her name tag said “Rita,” and I wondered if she was the Rita who owned the popular bar and eatery on the main drag in town. “Everyone shows up. You can’t buy a ticket and not come. What if they called your number?”
I huffed a laugh, a shiver of anticipation going through me. What if theydidcall my number?
But that was ridiculous. Every single person in this town bought tickets to this raffle. I wasn’t going to be the one to win it.
“Ryan from class said he’s going,” Nate piped up to say. “He said there’s a punching bag so you can test your strength.”
“We’re going, right, Mom?” Alec asked, eyes wide and hopeful. “Maybe we’ll win! Then we won’t have to go see any more houses on the weekend, and we can do fun stuff instead.”
Throat suddenly tight, I managed a weak nod of goodbye to Rita and put my arms around my sons. “We can go, as long as you two have done all your homework and chores,” I said.
The boys exchanged an excited glance. Nate had already ripped his jerky bag open, and he dug his hand into it to pull out a strip. He bit off a chunk and hopped from one foot to the other, excitement brimming. He’d always been a little ball of energy, ever since he was born.
I stroked the backs of their heads and felt like a failure. It had taken all my mettle to divorce my ex, fight for custody, and get a job. Now homelessness was looming ahead of me—not to mention joblessness. My boss had made it more than clear thathe didn’t want me sticking around any longer than strictly necessary to get the lodge open.
Maybe this had all been a mistake. Maybe I should have stayed married and stayed in my place.
An old couple shuffled behind us, heading to the raffle booth to make a purchase. My eyes lingered on the booth and the old couple, and—not for the first time—I thought back to that very first morning, when I tried to stand up for what was right and ended up making a fool of myself.
I’d seriously misjudged how popular this raffle thing was in this town. It seemed that everyone bought a ticket or three, and refusing to participate had truly been a huge faux pas.
I blamed Rhett Baldwin for that, and pointing my anger and fear and doubt at someone other than myself felt too good to stop. If he hadn’t riled me up that morning with his line-cutting and his dark eyes, I wouldn’t have been so flustered. Even the brief moment he flashed into my mind was enough to get me to grind my jaw. This place would be perfect if it weren’t for him.
Clearing my mind with a deep sigh, I carried on, one eye on the boys, one on the variety of stalls on either side. We stopped at a stall selling all manner of chutneys. I sampled a bit of hot mango chutney on a cracker, humming at the sweet and spicy taste. “Delicious!” I told the woman behind the table.
She beamed with pride. “Would you like a jar?”
“Oh, why not?” I said. It was a little pricey, but I didn’t want to get a reputation for being the stingy newcomer who didn’t support the local economy. Besides, the chutney was delicious.
But the woman leaned over her table to look at the array of jars, then frowned. She turned around and went through one ofthe many boxes behind her, coming back with a jar of chutney and an apologetic look on her face.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I only have one left.”
“Well, that works out perfectly! I only want one.” I forced a smile, even though I could tell I was missing something.
“I’ll have more made next week,” she promised. “This one is already spoken for.”
A little tingle of warning told me a predator was nearby. My eyes narrowed. “Already spoken for? By who?”
