Farmers Market Fatality

by Sarah Hualde

  “Tell me you’ve brought Jacqui’s quilt?” One woman paced circles in front of Lydia.

  “It’s in my car.”

  “We need it before opening.” Another crafter spouted.

  Another popped her head out of a plastic tote, with wide eyes. Her voice spiked as if someone had pinched her. “It’s the centerpiece of the fair.”

  Lydia’s mind chuckled. Then she saw the graveness with which each seller studied her. They scanned her from hair to sandals. She felt their unspoken comments.

  “She’s not wearing that, is she?”

  “What makes her think she can run our craft fair?”

  “What’s she done with the quilt?”

  “Not one of us.”

  She pivoted and called back to the clan. “I’ll get the quilt, right now.”

  Cordelia slammed into Lydia. Lydia stumbled backward but remained upright and able to steady Cordelia. The older woman trembled.

  “Is something wrong?” Lydia reflected on her question and regretted it. What in Cordelia’s life wasn’t going wrong? Cordelia offered a soft reflective grin.

  “The trash can slammers struck again. This morning I piled my totes, filled with microgreens, on the edge of the driveway. I was getting ready to load them when the same car jetted down the street. It barreled across my lawn and sent them flying around the yard.” Cordelia rolled her shoulders back and stretched. She took a deep inhale and released it.

  “How are your plants?”

  “Ruined. But someone’s going to get killed. How does the driver know? How do they know when to come down my street and how do they know there’s nothing dangerous in my totes?”

  With no mention of Mario, Lydia patted Cordelia’s elbow. “I know Ethan’s trying to figure out who is behind the wreckage. But he hasn’t been able to find the car. Also, now with Hobo Joe’s incident, I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

  “I know. I know.” A vendor at the Sage Bowl Soap booth waved at Cordelia. “Looks like I’m being summoned. We’ll catch up later.”

  Lydia left Cordelia. She dashed to get Jacqui’s quilt before the crafter’s revolted.

  One of Honey Pot’s garage bands, Lattes and Lava, strummed out their tunes as customers rushed to the market. Lydia’s chest filled with pride as the booths conducted sales in a flurry. She was handling this market business well. Cordelia flitted from vendor to vendor; neglecting her booth, assuring everyone had what they needed.

  Mario usually did this job, while Cordelia sold their wares. Without Mario, there was no sales team. Lydia wished she could help her. But she was trapped among the crafters. She did her utmost to stay out of their way, but when it came to the sewing demonstrations, all the sellers were busy.

  A red-haired girl bounced up to Lydia, carrying a wad of money in her fist. “Mom says you can teach me how to sew a placemat. Can we do that right now?”

  The girl’s braids flicked this way and that. She turned her head in crazed excitement. Lydia felt one of the quilters creep up behind her. The weight of her look pressed on Lydia’s shoulders. Lydia did not turn around.

  “Today we’re sewing on pockets. I have this crafter’s apron, and I need help filling it with pockets.”

  The disappointed girl allowed her eyes to wander. She took in her surrounding sights. Seeing there wasn’t anything else worth her time, she nodded approval. “Sure. That’ll do. Do I get to take the apron home?”

  The lurker laughed. “Oh, no honey. However, you can enter our raffle to win the apron. We raffle off one prize every month of summer.”

  “Sounds like a scam.”

  “I can’t disagree,” Lydia whispered. “But I could show you how to sew on a pocket. Would you like to pick out a pocket?” The girls smiled and rummaged through the pile of precut fabric — score one for Lydia.

  ✽✽✽

  Lucas McNeil and his friend Braden snacked on banana chips and cans of soda. Emily watched them from the Street Corn and Nacho booth. She stood, inside the tent and peered through a built-in vinyl window. She sipped from a bottle of water and pretended she was joining their fun. They were free, but she was working. She was saving up for the CoC summer retreat.

  The boys had yet to spot her. She didn’t know whether to call them over or leave them alone. A battle of choices pounded through her slender frame as she stirred liquid cheese.

  Mr. Mike volunteered at the CoC booth. Emily didn’t want to introduce Lucas to Mr. Mike. Difficult questions always followed a meeting with Mr. Mike. She warned Lucas. However, Lucas was strong-willed and couldn’t fathom the scope of Mr. Mike’s skepticism.

  Emily wished Ivy were there. Emily needed to talk. But, Ivy wouldn’t listen. She would badger and discuss. The last time Emily tried to share with Ivy, Ivy imperiously advised her against a relationship with Lucas.

  Ivy stated, in so many words, that church attendance didn’t equate a good heart. Ivy didn’t know Lucas. Emily was tired of arguing with her. She never won. Emily didn’t need a friend she was always disappointing.

  She decided to hide in the corn shack for the rest of her shift. Getting sticky with steamy sweat and stinking of aioli was preferable to a misunderstanding between Mr. Mike and Lucas.

  Lucas McNeil’s eyes were fierce. They made Emily silly and swoony. Emily didn't believe she deserved Lucas' attention. He overlooked her living conditions. He ignored her lack of money and even treated her from time to time. Lucas helped her find ways to enjoy life without feeling guilty and without being judged. She felt free with Lucas.

  Nights, when he was too lonely to be without her, Emily climbed from her bedroom window. She braved losing her place at the Youth Mission House to soothe Lucas, and he was always happy to have her by his side.

  Most of the time, his buddy Braden joined their late-night excursions. They went on trips to Ashton and walked the lavender fields after hours. Sometimes they hit up an arcade until the boys ran low on money and then they drove around town talking and listening to music. It was beautiful to stick her hand out the car window and feel the midnight air make it wave.

  Lucas was wild but safe. He attended the same church as Emily did. He had his own money to spend on the youth group’s summer retreat. Emily was desperate to earn her way. She had to stay on Mr. Mike’s good side to get permission, and she needed to come up with another $100 before she could reserve her spot.

  At camp, during the day, leaders escorted teens from session to session sharing faith deepening discussion and studies. Emily decided she’d abide their hypocrisy during the day, but after lights out she’d find Lucas and they’d have their own adventures together. Adventures for the two of them. No judging Ivy and no badgering Braden.

  She and Lucas talked about these plans in detail. They shared a special wild love. They couldn’t be expected to contain it and force it to obey ancient rules. Nor could people hold them accountable for what happened when the two love birds were together.

  Lucas explained it all to Emily and Emily agreed. She trembled, thinking about the retreat and what it meant for her and Lucas. If she thought about it anymore, she wouldn’t get any work done. Unseen, Emily blew a kiss toward her Romeo and returned to her job ladling nacho cheese.

  Chapter 8

  Ivy strolled the market. Scout strapped to her back; she perused the booths. She needed an outing. Mom life left her fatigued and blue. She missed parts of her life before Scout. She missed friends, even the not so good ones. She missed noise and action and fun. Though she couldn’t remember what fun looked like, she missed it all the same.

  The murmur of the crowd and the shimmering of the sun made her feel lighter. At the Honey Bun and Biscuits stand Ivy treated herself to a sample and adjusted Scout’s sunbonnet. She didn’t want the little one getting burned. She nibbled her treat and mentally calculated her pocket money. Then she spotted Emily at the Victor E. Garden booth.

  Ivy wasn’t aware Emily was working both the Church of Christ booth and the Victor E. Garden booth. P
ayment from one booth should fund Emily’s trip to Summer Camp. Why work two when one was more than enough? It wasn’t in line with Emily’s laid back approach to life.

  The tallest of Emily’s suitors reached a hand to her cheek and swept hair from her face. He tucked it behind her ear. Ivy blushed to watch the moment. Still, Emily’s eyes did not reflect her outward merriment. With gentle slow fingers, the boy traced the outline of Emily’s ear. He paused and carefully flicked her dangling earrings. Emily softened and set her head on his shoulder.

  The other boy scowled and made a crude remark in obvious jealousy. His friend reacted in kind, and off they ran tossing bottle caps at each other. Emily watched the boys until her gaze lighted on Ivy. With immediate disgust Emily twisted, her back faced her ex-friend. Ivy forced away tears.

  Cordelia Muggs came alongside the sad mother. She patted Scout and coo-ed to her, pulling a part of the baby’s cap from her mouth. She rested an understanding hand on Ivy’s shuddering shoulder.

  “Go to her.”

  “She hates me.”

  “She only thinks she does,” Cordelia said. She waved down two little girls pulling a red wagon filled with ice and soda cans. “I’d like two, please.” The girls squealed with delight and finished the exchange before charging away. “It’s not exactly legal for them to sell those, here. Mario would have a fit at their parents. But... oh well.” She handed the beverages to Ivy. The cold aluminum sweat sent shivers of relief up Ivy’s arms. “Take one to her.”

  “Thanks.” Ivy half hugged Cordelia and carted Scout along with her for a visit.

  A customer stood in line. She waited while Emily served him. The man walked away with cilantro and a bag of juicy tomatoes. Ivy predicted homemade salsa was in his future.

  When he left, there was dead air between the estranged friends. Each avoided eye contact by looking at their shuffling feet. Each heaved heavy breaths stunted with unspent tears as they waited for the other to speak.

  “I brought you a soda.” Ivy outstretched her frosty fist and offered Emily the peace token. Emily accepted it without comment. “So, which one is Lucas, again?”

  Emily’s eyes narrowed. With one hand holding her soda and the other standing defiantly on her hips, she jerked her head in the direction of the boys. “The one with the blonde hair.”

  Ivy pretended to look at the boy, but her mind was on her friend. “He’s cute. Seems fun.”

  “Are you surprised? Someone fun and cute likes me?”

  “Why would I be surprised?”

  Emily turned her back to Ivy for a second time. She reshuffled the plants to fill in the gaps the purchased cilantro had made. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, I’m not. You’re beautiful and smart and fun. Of course, amazing people are going to be attracted to you.”

  Scout burbled behind Ivy’s shoulders. The baby waved at her surrogate Grandmother, as Lydia passed by. Lydia waved back but did not stop.

  “I bet Lydia’s surprised!” Emily fiddled with her soda can tab.

  Ivy clicked her tongue and with a quick swoosh, unbuckled a strap of the baby harness and shifted Scout to her front. “I think you misunderstand Lydia. She’s not as callous as you think she is.”

  “Not to you, maybe. You’ve got Scout. Me, I’ve got nothing.”

  Ivy wanted to hold her sad friend. She wanted to make her laugh until all her self-doubt crumbled from her shoulders. Although the ice broke, a barrier of coldness remained. “You know what I think about that statement. You already know what I’m going to say.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Please don’t say it. It makes my skin squirm.” Emily shimmied; imagining Ivy’s unspoken words and popped her soda can open. Foam bubbled on the rim of the can. Scout clapped. Her tiny baby mouth made an “O” of delight. Emily’s heart melted and she squeezed Scout’s hand with tender admiration. “So,” she shifted the subject. “What do you think of Lucas?”

  Ivy opened her soda and let the icy bubbles dance down her throat before answering. She needed to tread carefully and season every word with salt, but she didn’t know what would trigger Emily and what would not. “Well, I don’t know him. But he seems nice, enough.”

  “Nice enough?” A sharp warning deepened Emily’s voice.

  “As I said, I don’t know him. I’ve never spent time with him. But he seemed to be nice to you, a minute ago.” Ivy sensed the scene was tinted with drama but didn’t want Emily to rehash it for her. She also didn’t like the awkwardness of PDA. The sweet, sentimental kind made her feel like an intruder and the groping, grasping kind made her sick to her stomach. What she witnessed between Lucas and Emily was an awkward and unreadable kind.

  Emily’s reaction to her comment caught Ivy off her game. “Oh, that. I’ve been super stressed out, and he was trying to calm me down.” Emily avoided all eye contact and went back to reorganizing the vendor’s goods.

  Scout whined and yawned. The trip offered her senses a banquet, and the tiny girl was filled up. She ached for sleep. Ivy swayed in response to Scout’s cue. She wanted to end this short reunion on neutral ground. So, she dabbled in small talk.

  She picked up a blue candle and pretended to read the homemade tag. “So, how’d you score this job? Is Mr. Victor supporting the youth retreat, too?”

  Emily took the chance to leave the subject of Lucas. She wanted to tell Ivy everything but needed to test her with tiny tidbits before allowing her full access to her heart. “No, Lucas got me the job. He works for Mr. Victor, occasionally, though he doesn’t need the money. His dad gives him a pretty hefty allowance.”

  “That must be nice.” Ivy sighed. Having parents that cared would have been nice, for both girls. Getting a big allowance on top of that was frosting.

  Emily nodded. “But that’s not why I’m with him.” She added in haste.

  “Of course not. I never thought...”

  “Well, good. Anyway, he asked Mr. Victor to help me out. I’m short on cash, this year. And Mr. Victor said yes.”

  “That’s awesome.” The girl’s starred in discomfort at each other. Emily mimicked Ivy’s sway, and Scout fell asleep to their rhythm. “I better get her home.” Ivy played with a tuft of Scout’s curls. Emily’s eyes brightened as she touched the baby’s cheek. “Thanks for talking to me. I’ve missed you.”

  Emily too confused to respond nodded and finished off her soda. She handed the empty can to Ivy. “Can you recycle this for me?” Another customer approached the booth. “I’ve got to ...”

  “Sure, I get it.” Ivy took the can and offered one last uneasy smile to Emily. Each girl went about their own business, satisfied at this first awkward conversation.

  Emily watched her friend disappear into the crowd. Her stomach lurched, but she completed a candle sale without stuttering. Her gaze tracked Lucas and Braden. She didn’t understand her feelings for Lucas. They scared her. Sometimes she couldn’t get enough of him. Sometimes he was sweet and thoughtful and tender. Other times she couldn’t get away from him fast enough. Those times were too frightening to admit, even to herself.

  ✽✽✽

  Lydia walked in her front door, kicked off her sandals, hobbled to her couch and flopped over. Every muscle ached. She hoisted, lifted, twisted, and squatted all day. Reaching this and getting that. Sitting down and standing up. All while pretending she didn’t feel the ridicule of the craft ladies that surrounded her. She would show them right after she slept for a week.

  Her feet dangled off the arm of the couch. Her keys still clutched in her hands. She spilled hot tears of tired frustration onto her couch cushions.

  The quilters made crafting look so easy. Their squares and seams overwhelmed Lydia. She considered herself a creative person. Creative people always had a crafty bone rooted deep within them. She hadn’t found hers yet. She knew she was ridiculous, letting the ladies get to her and imagining their conversations. However, knowing didn’t stop feelings of failure from overtaking her. Lydia cried until her eyes shut in slumber.

&n
bsp; When Ethan came home, entering through the garage, Lydia was still sleeping. Her bare, dirty feet greeted his entrance to their living room. He stopped himself from laughing at his wife. He stuck his index finger on the instep of her right foot and tickled her.

  She screamed and rolled from the couch. The thud of her rear hitting hardwood echoed down the hallway. Lydia gritted her teeth and forced her mind to wakefulness. “What? Are you crazy?”

  Ethan hooted. Lydia was unimpressed. “Oh, Lyds... I got you so good.”

  Lydia waved him away and staggered to her feet. She struggled to still her shaking. “My day was not fun.”

  “I heard.”

  “What did you hear?”

  “You sewed two pockets upside down on the infamous crafting apron,” Ethan repeated.

  “Oh, that...” Lydia walked to the kitchen and looked for something to snack on.

  “There’s more?” Ethan followed her, still chortling on every other word.

  “Like I’m going to tell you.” She tossed a water bottle at her husband, who caught it.

  Ethan twisted off the cap and sucked the bottle dry before Lydia had hers open. “Well, I’ve got something to tell you.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Hobo Joe’s been released.” Lydia’s eyes sparkled. “And he’s living with Miss Jacqui until he’s fully recovered.”

  Lydia choked on her first drink, spluttering water down her apron. “That should be interesting.”

  Chapter 9

  Ethan changed his clothes as Lydia paced the master bedroom. Her exhaustion replaced with intrigue made her skittish. “Aren’t you going to change,” Ethan asked.

  Lydia paused to glimpse herself in the mirror. “Oh goodness! I’d forgotten.” She tossed her apron at the dirty clothes basket, missing it. She pulled on her hippie skirt and refreshed her bang twist. Then she shot across the room and spritzed herself with perfume. “Okay, let’s go.”

  Ethan shook his head and led his wife to their car. “Should we stop and get something to bring with us? After all, we weren’t exactly invited, and both of our hosts just returned from the hospital.”