Saturday morning was one Molly had highlighted on her calendar for two weeks. It was the morning she needed to take a pregnancy test, to see if this month they had finally conceived or not. It was both exciting and nerve-racking, but this ritual had also become commonplace since she had done it month after month for almost a year. She and Scott had been trying for long enough that she was expecting to be let down again. It was easier not to really anticipate the two pink lines on the pregnancy test indicating a growing baby, when only one pink line showed up each and every cycle, meaning that her period would start any day.
Her bladder woke her, and she rolled out of bed before Scott was awake, tiptoeing into the bathroom. Knowing that half the battle was holding it until she could pee on the pregnancy test, Molly had already left the wrapped test on the sink counter so she wouldn’t have to rummage through the cabinet while needing to pee. She still hopped from foot to foot while she tore it open.
Before the suggested five-minute wait time was up, one very solitary and very solid pink line showed that this month Molly was not pregnant, yet again. She closed her eyes and shook her head, defeated. Then she crawled back into bed and cuddled up to Scott, who was still sleeping, unknowing. She’d tell him over breakfast.
Three hours later, Molly was packing a red canvas wagon full of the newly potted succulents, milkweed plants, bags of their in-house compost, and veggie seedlings, as well as her vinegar-based weed killer. This nontoxic weed killer didn’t affect bees, butterflies, and other beneficial bugs but was lethal to dandelions and other uninvited plants. None of these products were exactly normal Farmer’s Market fare, but the town held the event in the Patty’s Plant Place parking lot, so they took advantage of the foot traffic. The shop and parking lot were buzzing long before shoppers arrived. Theo had already set up their tent and folding table. Always the helper, he was unloading bins of produce, art, and products for farmers, artisans, bakers, and crafters who were setting up their own booths. May had brought her entire family this week. Her daughter, Hannah, was with Molly in the shop, loading the wagon with their cashbox, flyers, a tablecloth, and other Farmer’s Market accessories. Molly loved Hannah’s company, especially because of her constant and contagious smile. May, carrying her clipboard, was chatting and checking in both Farmer’s Market vendors and the entertainer of the week: a balloon animal twister. Joe and Noah were to be the shopkeepers during the market, and Joe was reacquainting himself with the register and current sales. Noah felt very important to be in charge of the shop, but he was mostly playing with the cat. He had just finished kindergarten and probably would not be quite as much help as Hannah, who had just finished second grade.
Molly took a few minutes to visit the different tables and tents to say hello to the market vendors, following her sister’s example. The vendors rewarded her friendliness with samples of cookies, a complimentary box of raspberries, and a bonus bag of hydroponically grown lettuce.
The shop shared its large parking lot with the Buckeye Trail. Patty’s Plant Place sat asymmetrically in the parking lot, as if someone had planted it to the side of a flowerpot with most of the parking bays along the side of the store and in front of the trailhead. The Buckeye Trail’s blue sign complimented the garden center’s yellow-and-blue signage. Molly and May had changed their logo and sign a few years ago so that the “Patty” of Patty’s Plant Place wasn’t as large as the other text, but new customers still frequently assumed Molly or May were named Patty. On the opposite side of the garden center from the trail was a plaza with Glenn’s hiking store, a pharmacy, and a café that was only open for breakfast and lunch. Across the street was the entrance to a housing development. Downtown Hawthorn Heights, farther down the main road, had more storefronts that included a barbershop, an ice cream shop, and the local bank. Municipal buildings, a quaint church, and the elementary school were at the end of town. And so the Farmer’s Market was held in both the Patty’s Plant Place lot and the Buckeye Trail parking lot.
Returning to the Patty’s Plant Place tent, Molly shared her cookies and berries with Hannah. Once customers started trickling into the farmer’s market, Hannah accepted five-dollar bills with enthusiasm in exchange for the succulent pots. Molly wondered how her niece was so naturally talkative and friendly to customers. Unless the customer was a regular that she knew personally, Molly often had a hard time finding fodder for small talk.
Their tomato plants sold out first. Molly was glad that she’d grown extra succulents that week and made a note about trying to prepare more tomatoes for the next sale.
A face appeared in the crowd, one that was familiar, yet didn’t belong. Molly racked her brain to recognize the man’s short hair and brown eyes. He smiled at her, and Molly realized it was Craig, Claudia’s new love interest whom she had just met two days before. She smiled back at him.
“Welcome to the Hawthorn Heights Farmer’s Market, Craig.”
“Hey, Molly. This market certainly is a busy place.” Craig held up a bag of Swiss chard, a bundle of basil, and three enormous bulbs of garlic. “I scored on some fresh produce. What do you recommend from your tent here?” He ran his eyes over the display on their table.
“We just ran out of tomato plants, but we’ve still got cucumber and zucchini plants. You mentioned a garden, but were you planning on growing your own food?” She showed off her gardening supplies and succulents. Craig finally settled on a little jade plant in a white pot, declining the veggie plants. Everyone always wanted succulents.
“I think I’ll give it to Claudia. She’s going to be mad at me for not inviting her to this outing.”
“I’m sure she will.” Molly laughed knowingly.
“We also have sales going on in the shop, if you want to go inside. And you can meet the shop cat, Sherlock,” Hannah told Craig.
“Oh, Craig, this is my niece, Hannah. Her brother and dad are in the shop for us this morning. My sister and I run the store together. She’s over there—May,” Molly told him, nodding to her twin, who stood next to the bakery tent.
“A family affair. That’s great. I forgot you were a twin, Molly,” Craig said.
“We may look alike, but our minds work differently. May is the numbers person, and I know the flowers and growing side of things. She makes the money deliveries, and I deliver the flower arrangements.” Hannah laughed at Molly’s joke.
“Oh, in that van, huh?” Craig asked, looking over her shoulder and past most of the bustle of the market to the side of the building where the Patty’s Plant Place van sat.
“Yep. That’s our van. We don’t make that many deliveries, honestly,” she admitted. “I usually just drive it to and from work.”
“A perk of owning your own garden center, huh?” Craig smiled. “Well, thank you for the invitation to shop in the store, Hannah, but I think I’m going to grab a loaf of bread from that bakery tent and get going. It was very nice to meet you.”
Hannah extended her hand and said, “It was a pleasure to meet you as well,” as she shook Craig’s hand. What a polite young lady. Molly would have to tell May about her daughter’s good manners.
A few minutes later, Harriett visited the Patty’s Plant Place table.
“Harriett, I don’t usually see you at the Farmer’s Market. You’re not here for more vinegar weed killer, are you?” Molly asked, laughing as she greeted her elderly garden center regular.
“Sweetie, I’m here to make sure all of you are alright.” She eyed Hannah and lowered her voice conspiratorially, as if the little girl couldn’t hear her. “I heard about the missing boy who visited the garden center.”
“Oh, yes. The hiker,” Molly stammered. No one had actually mentioned Trevor yet that morning. The topic jarred her out of the sunny, celebratory vibe of the market.
“It’s just awful. I know how important your customers are to you and May. How attached you get. Just like your dear grandma and grandpa. I knew you would all be worried about the young man.”
“It really is horrible. You’re right,” May found herself saying.
“And so I realized that I’ve never actually made you girls or Theo a batch of my lavender lemon cookies,” Harriett continued. “Your Grandma Patty sold me my lavender plant years ago. The lavender lady has thrived so well in my back garden. These cookies are just what you need when worry sets in. They’re the scent and taste of calm, I say.” Harriett fished a plastic container out of her tote bag that was smooshed full of cookies and placed it on the table in front of Molly. She patted the top of it and continued, “I can pick up the container next time I’m in the shop.” Looking around the Farmer’s Market, straining her neck, she said, “You’ll have to tell me where Theo is. I can’t seem to find him in the crowd. I see May over there.”
“You are so thoughtful,” Molly said, standing. She walked around the table to hug the older woman.
“Well, sweetie, it’s just what I do when bad things happen. I make cookies. I say, when life gives you lemons, mix them with lavender!” She rubbed Molly’s back during the long hug.
“Harriett, you are wonderful, just wonderful,” Molly said, pulling away. The negative pregnancy test, Trevor’s disappearance, not knowing where Shannon was, and all the worry that came with it all felt more manageable when people she loved supported her.
The rest of the morning went quickly, with many shoppers requesting tomato plants. Molly thought she might have to order some from a wholesale vendor to keep up with demand.
Once all the sellers and buyers of art, baked goods, pantry goodies, and produce had left, Molly and Hannah repacked the wagon and unloaded it in the store. It was much lighter this time, as they had sold out of nearly everything. Theo pulled the election-style signs out of the grassy buffer strip between the road and their parking lot that advertised the Farmer’s Market. May announced that the balloon animal twister was by far the most popular entertainer they had hired.
There were only four bags of compost left after the market, but the display on the shop floor was full. Molly hauled them into the stockroom before heading home. After she finished shoving them onto the shelf, she wiped her hands on her jeans, satisfied with a good day’s work—even if it was just half a day. She dug into her pocket for her lip balm and dropped it onto the floor, where it rolled right under a shelf.
On her hands and knees, Molly tried reaching under the shelving unit, but it was farther than her arm would reach. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and shone the flashlight under the shelf. The amount of dust and grime there amazed Molly. She saw the lip balm and something else in the corner. She squeezed between the shelves and the stockroom wall so she could change the angle of retrieval. Molly got her cylinder of lip balm and put it right back in her pocket, dry lips forgotten. Her fingers could just reach the tip of something flat against the wall, maybe a box.
She pulled herself upright, kneeling and looking around for something to extend her reach. The toolbox was on the shelf right in front of her, and she selected a flathead screwdriver. She thought it was probably Grandpa Will’s, since it had a wooden handle. So many things of theirs had been left in this shop. The screwdriver was all she needed. She shimmied the box toward her, coughing because of all the dust that she had disturbed. Molly stood up with her treasure, leaving the screwdriver on the floor. It was indeed an old cigar box. The lettering on the side was faded, and the seams were cracked—and it was very heavy for its size. Her breath caught in her throat as she flipped open the lid.
Keys. Dozens of worn, tarnished keys filled the box.
“What’s that you have there?” May asked, startling Molly so much that she almost dropped the heavy box.