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Lydia could barely think around the marching band in her skull. Threading a needle was impossible. She smiled and greeted each customer that approached her booth but feigning interest in their words was too heavy a task.
Thankfully, Kat and Flora flanked her. Flora sat, with Enoch in a sling, to Lydia’s right teaching both Lydia and a jumpy little girl how to sew a straight seam. Kat shuffled about the booth helping with raffle tickets and sales.
Lydia was bamboozled. She was exhausted but couldn’t sleep. Restless but unable to work. If she were honest, she wanted to curl into a ball and cry all day. The sight of Cordelia Muggs, determined and demure, working in her missing husband’s place bolstered Lydia. She had no reason to complain. Her husband was healthy and present. Her daughter, though overseas, was happy and preoccupied with her missionary work.
She watched Cordelia the entire three hours of the market. If Kat and Flora talked to her, she didn’t register their voices. Her memory flashed in rhythm to her headache. A lavender field of terror. Cars trying to run her down. Hobo Joe crumpled among the crosses and reaching out for help. Lydia didn’t notice the hours pass. She didn’t move when Ivy left to chat with Emily. Kat left an hour early and returned with an overnight package. Flora nursed and rocked Enoch beneath the booth canopy. Lydia remained numb.
✽✽✽
Emily guarded the Victor E Garden booth. Technically, Lucas was in charge of sales, but she covered his shift. In return, he offered her half his earnings and promised a date without Braden’s presence. It was worth the extra effort.
Tired of her roommates’ self-righteous stares and blackmail attempts, Emily wanted out of Mission House. Working the Market gave her the perfect excuse and kept Mr. Mike off her back. She yawned, exhausted by the previous night. Emily trembled with memory.
Lucas and Braden were sleeping off the affair. Emily doubted they’d gone straight home when they dropped her off. She imagined the boys eating breakfast and bantering over large cokes. They probably annoyed a waitress or two and terrified the local paperboy before crashing at Braden’s house.
Braden’s mother worked long hours and left every morning at 5 for the city. Weeknights she arrived in time to devour a bowl of instant soup, shower, and go back to bed.
Two teens, unfamiliar to Emily, cruised the Victor E. Garden tables. Emily doubted they were trying to shoplift a pot of herbs or an arrangement of succulents. She was shocked to find they admired Victor’s hand-poured patriotic candles.
“They’re scented with vanilla, cinnamon, and apple extracts.”
One boy elbowed the other. “Get it?”
“Yeah,” his friend said, rubbing his prodded rib cage. “American as apple pie.”
Emily giggled. She always giggled when boys made jokes. She didn’t understand why. Their jokes weren’t all that funny. Joker boy, as Emily nicknamed him, took a candle in hand and turned it upside down. “$65.00,” he hooted.
Emily’s cheek squished in surprise. “For a candle?” Joker boy showed his friend. “It must be a mistake. Let me see.” Emily flipped three other candles upside down. All of their handwritten tags proclaimed a different price. She knew Farmers Market goods could cost more than the local stores, but this was crazy. One candle was priced at $100. Emily set that one back down. “It’s got to be a misprint. Here,” She handed Joker boy a different candle. “This one’s $20.”
His friend took the candles and compared the bottoms. “Why does this one have a V on it and this one doesn’t?”
Emily didn’t know. Lucas hadn’t mentioned Mr. Cotton’s odd pricing. “I guess the V stands for very special. That explains why those candles are more expensive.”
The faces of each boy beamed with understanding. “Oh,” they said in unison. They turned their backs to Emily and discussed the problem over open wallets.
Why in the world would they want a $65 candle? They’re all the same. She thought, keeping a businesslike smile on her face. She watched the college boys with her peripherals while pretending to take in the crowd.
A slice of her focus shifted when she spotted Lydia. The woman waved. Emily returned the greeting. Emily wasn’t ready to renew her relationship with Lydia. She feared her knowing glances and convicting conversations. Emily wanted to be free, and Lydia wanted her strapped down and obedient. Lydia wasn’t going to approach her. She was busy with her crafting crisis and wouldn't be walking over anytime soon.
Cordelia Muggs sauntered past the Victor E Garden stall. She looked directly into Emily’s eyes. Emily lowered her chin. Cordelia moved on.
“Okay, all we’ve got is $40. Do you have a candle for $40?”
Her eyebrows pinched together as she reminded the young men of the $20 candle they’d already picked up. “No, we want one with a V.”
Emily flipped candle after candle. “The cheapest special candle is the one you’re holding. Honestly, they’re all the same.” The boys talked together some more before deciding to barter. “Listen,” Emily replied to their bids, with a defiant hand to the hip. “This isn’t my store. I can’t change the prices for you. Even if I think $65 for a candle is insane.”
“How about if we do this?” Joker boy picked up the two original candles and turned his back to Emily. She heard the adhesive detach but looked away. “Now, we’ll take the $20 candle and pay you $30 for it.”
Emily wasn’t an idiot. Plus, she really needed the money. Glaring right into the boy’s eyes, with more courage than she imagined she possessed, she said, “Give me all $40, and we have a deal.”
The boys laughed and made the exchange. Emily bagged up their purchase, slipped $20 into the cash box and the other $20 into her pocket. The parties separated, happy with the arrangement. Emily watched her customers eat apple fritters before they left the Market. She startled when Lydia came up.
The vendors around Victor E Garden tucked away their supplies. Their clattering stirred urgency in Emily. She grimaced and acted busy. Lydia's presence wasn't soothing Emily's nerves.
Lydia snatched up a candle and sniffed it. “Cinnamon Apples. Yum.” She peeked at the price tag and blanched.
“They’re high-quality candles,” Emily said.
“I guess they are,” Lydia responded without shock or falseness in her tone.
“Are you buying or not?” Emily kept most of her emotions out of the conversation and wrapped a candle in bubble wrap.
“Oh, not today. Maybe next weekend. I wanted to say hello.”
“Hello.” Emily snipped. “I’ve got a lot to do. So, I...”
“Sure, sure. Me too. I’ll see you around, then.”
“It’s a small town.” Emily wanted to say more, but the words evaporated on her tongue. Instead, she turned away and packed up supplies in their labeled totes.
“Emily,” Lucas wrapped his arms around her waist and hoisted her in the air, still holding a plastic crate. “Who were you talking to?”
“Just Lydia.”
Lydia wasn’t standing at the booth, anymore. She’d returned to her duties. Lucas’ eyes trailed Emily’s. He dropped her. She stumbled. “The Sheriff’s wife?”
“She came looking at the booth. I was doing my job.”
“Did you sell her one?” Worry creased Lucas’ expression.
“No, they’re crazy expensive. “
“That’s Mr. Victor’s business. Not ours. Definitely, not the Sheriff’s or his wife’s.” Emily placed both hands on Lucas’ arm. Her attempts at calming him succeeded and he packed up the booth alongside her.
Gathering courage to pry, Emily forced a whimsical easiness to her voice. Playing dumb and friendly worked in her favor most of the time. “I thought you were meeting me here, tonight. I didn’t think I’d have to handle the shop all on my own.”
Lucas didn’t look at her. He kept working. “It’s a 3-hour shift. What’s the big deal?”
Emily braved another question. “Well, when do we... I mean you get paid?” Lucas either didn’t catch her slip or was choosing patience over anger. It didn’t matter to Emily. She was happy for his companionship and help.
“Braden’s working it out with him. When we drop this stuff off, we’ll get Braden too. He’ll give us our money then.”
Emily pouted. She hoped Braden was sick at home, or something. She didn’t like who Lucas became when his friend was with them. Emily wasn’t going to cause a fight, though, and enjoyed the moment while it lasted.
She remembered all her mother’s boyfriends. None of them had been church boys, like Lucas. They were never nearly as attractive or wealthy as Lucas, either. Compared to her mother’s men, Lucas was a saint and Emily was lucky to have him. She slowed her pace. Lucas rewarded her with a warm smile and a lingering hug. That was her boyfriend. She loved him and deep down he loved her. She knew it, even if he didn’t say it.
✽✽✽
Armed with a plastic satchel and a trash skewer, Lydia stabbed loose wrappers and receipts. Her job took her back over the cross memorial. It stunned her, how many people dropped their garbage anywhere.
A chill flurried up her back when she passed the area she discovered Hobo Joe. Though her mind kept returning to how he looked, bleeding and bashed on the lawn, she forced it to picture him laughing on Miss Jacqui’s recliner. She wanted to check on him. It would reaffirm her memory and perhaps erase the bad one. However, Miss Jacqui would be there, and she didn’t want to chance a nasty confrontation. She’d narrowly escaped the last one.
✽✽✽
Kat Miller no longer lived in fear of the church pillar. She and Miss Jacqui had an understanding. After finishing the Market clean up, she headed straight for Miss Jacqui’s house.
The Sunday school matriarch took longer than usual to answer her door. “I’ve got a present for you and Hobo Joe.” Kat said, holding up her overnighted parcel.
Miss Jacqui nodded. “Finally, a woman with sense.” She ushered Kat inside and shut the door, double locking it.