Copyright © 2016 by, Kristen Flowers
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the author. Reviewers may quote brief passages in reviews. This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locals is coincidental.
By Kristen Flowers & Megan West
Also by Kristen Flowers
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Table of Contents
Bonus Stories by Megan West & Kristen Flowers
The chatter of people created a lovely buzz throughout the closed off streets of the Farmer’s Market. Bright yellow corn and vivid greens lit up my view from my family’s stand. I caught Randall’s eye and nodded in a warm greeting. He was a 53-year-old man fully committed to his farm and always drawing laughs from the customers who visited his stand. His yellow and sweet red corn were his best-selling items.
My stand never fell far behind. In fact, my delicious blueberry pies were one of the most popular attractions. Of course, it didn’t hurt that I was a beautiful young woman. It wasn’t uncommon for a sweet grandmother or an older man to innocently complement me. Around my hometown I was known as ‘the prettiest girl in all of Iowa.’ I never allowed it to get to my head and at times it made me feel a little uncomfortable, but I did my best to stay modest.
As a teenager coming into my looks, I felt awkward when the compliments started coming in. Eventually, however, they became background noise. It wasn’t until I got older and stared maturing into a lovely young woman that the compliments came more often and sometimes in unwanted forms that left me feeling uncomfortable.
Thankfully, everyone at the Farmer’s Market looked out for me. Most of them had watched me grow up while selling my pies and helping out at my parent’s small store. Randall was especially protective of me, almost acting like a father at times, so I had come to value him very much. We rarely saw each other, except for the days when I set up at the Farmer’s Market, but that was okay by both of us.
I eyed the sweet, red corn in a wooden bin off to the right and made a mental note to buy some for dinner if he had any left. Just then, a customer walked up to my stand with a huge smile and a hand on her very pregnant belly.
“The season’s finally here!” the woman barked in a chipper voice, eager eyes looking over every single blueberry pie on display.
It took a moment for me to register the woman’s face, but when I finally pieced it together, I couldn’t hide the huge grin. “Lindsay! I haven’t seen you in… gosh, how long?”
“Three years, almost to the day! Oh hun, I was startin’ to worry you’d forgotten all ‘bout me!” Lindsay looked playfully hurt before going around to the side of the stand. I quickly reached out and gave her a hug.
“And look at you now! How many months along are you?” I still remembered Lindsay when she was just an excitable 19-year-old yacking on about how she was going to marry her high school sweetheart, live somewhere else, and start on the big family she had always dreamed of. Actually, that was the dream most young woman in my town seemed to have—get married to the boy down the road, have children, and work on the farm. It was a simple life and one that I could respect. But it wasn’t for me.
I had an adventurous itch that needed to be scratched.
Even though we had gotten along well when she still lived in town, I never managed to keep in touch with her. I wondered if this was her first child and if her plans had actually panned out. She sure seemed happy enough.
“Five months with my third child!” Lindsay nodded enthusiastically before going back to the front of the stand and leaning in to inspect each and every pie closely. “Gerald and I got married right after we moved and it wasn’t long before baby Barry came along.”
“Wow,” I muttered, pulling out a box for the pie Lindsay ended up selecting. I started folding and piecing it together as I mused over what Lindsay had just told me.
It was rare for someone’s plans to work out so perfectly, especially when those plans were made as a teenager in love. I had to admit though, seeing her so happy enflamed my own unhappiness. Maybe I was being greedy wanting more than what I already had, but Lindsay’s life was so unappealing to me. I knew there was more to life than small town boys and the dusty roads of Iowa. Despite what my mother always said, ‘there’s nothin’ good outside of Iowa,’ I knew she had to be wrong. Even though it wasn’t for me, I was happy for Lindsay and it certainly seemed like she was overjoyed with the way her life had worked out.
As I mused on about Lindsay’s happiness, I did my best to stifle the odd feeling welling up in the pit of my stomach as I thought of where I was in my own life. Lindsay clicked her tongue before picking up the pie and handing it over to me so I could pack it up.
“Did you end up moving to Cedar Rapids?” I asked.
“Oh, no. We actually live up in Decorah, would you believe? I know I said I wanted to live in a big city, but we ended up in another small town. Tell the truth, we stayed in Cedar Rapids ‘bout a month or two but weren’t all too happy. Some small town folks are just best left that way.”
“So you like it over in Decorah?”
“Oh, hun, yes! You should come by and visit sometime,” Lindsay said with a smile as she took the pie from my hands and gave me the money. She bit her lower lip and looked back down at the pies as if debating whether or not to buy another. She shook her head, “I’ll be back to your stand or store before leaving town for some more.” Lindsay said as she started to walk away. “Bye hun! Good seein’ you!”
“Good seeing you too!”
Lindsay was smart coming before the morning rush, which started about five minutes later. Throngs of people wandered about laughing and having a grand old time, many making sure to make a pit stop at my stand to look over the pies and vow to return for one next time if they weren’t taking one home now. This never bothered me. I was flattered that so many people found my pies delicious.
“You’re lookin’ prettier each and every day, Chloe.” I smiled humbly and swept a lock of my lustrous, chocolate brown hair behind my ear.
“Leanne, I can only hope to be pretty as you some day.” I had gotten good at small chitchat with customers. Good looks aside, I was naturally charming and I wasn’t one to shy away from a compliment, even though I was far from being full of myself. Over the years I had tried to strike the perfect balance of humility and acceptance. I was always friendly with customers. Living in a small farming town where most people were willing to lend a helping hand made being friendly easy for everyone.
The morning sun glinted in Leanne’s brilliant blue eyes as I gave her a warm smile. I had meant the compliment I paid the young lady holding a perfectly golden-crusted pie ready to be packed up. I always thought Leanne to be one of the prettiest women in town.
After carefully placing her pie in a box, I reached into a tin beneath the counter to pull out a toothpick with a handmade, glittered green heart stuck to the top. I poked it in the middle of the pie, looked up at Leanne with a sweet smile and closed the lid.
“Always goin’ the extra mile for others, ‘specially those of us who bring you regular business. You sure are a sweet thing, Chloe.”
“Just the way my mama taught me,” I admitted with a short laugh.
Leanne handed over some money and said goodbye before walking off to meet up with her boyfriend who had just finished buying some corn from Randall’s stand. Right then I had a lull in customers so I took advantage to crane my neck forward and shouted with my hands cupped around my mouth, “Hope you can save me a bit of that sweet corn!” Randall nodded and smil
ed, immediately pulling a small basket out from behind him and scooping a few of the cobs into it to save for me.
Around noon I only had two pies left and the crowd had considerably thinned out, but I wasn’t worried. I had sold a good bunch and if I had two left over they could always be sent to the shop. As I leaned back against the brick wall of the building behind my stand, I looked at all the colorful canopies lining the street.
I glanced down the row of stands and saw none other than Lindsay chatting away with another person. I smiled as she carried on with laughter. My old friend certainly looked happy, but a part of me couldn’t help but wonder how or why. Lindsay had ended up in another small town despite having the opportunity and desire to live in the city.
I had only visited Cedar Rapids a few times, but I never experienced living in a place like that. I was a small town girl and lived in a small town world. But I could never shake the desire inside of me to venture out into the world. Even though Cedar Rapids was a big place for me, I knew in truth it was small. I had always dreamed of seeing a truly big city someday—a Chicago or a New York. Pictures never did enough to satisfy me. I wanted to gaze upon the big buildings with my own two emerald green eyes.
I fumbled with the strings of my hunter green apron as I looked at the peaks of the canopies and wondered if there was anything like this in big cities. If there was, what would they look like? Lindsay would have had a chance to check it out firsthand, but she passed it all up. No matter how I framed it and how many times I replayed my old friend’s words in my head, I couldn’t make tails or heads of it.
My yearning to leave the small farm to see the world, visiting the big city, and going on different adventures to discover myself was set in too deep. It was a hunger that had been growing for years and now, as a young twenty-two-year-old woman, I was starting to grow frustrated with my daily life. I loved my family and friends in the town. I even held certain affection for the charm of the only life I had ever known, but it wasn’t enough to extinguish that flame inside of me. Despite my small town fame and my talent for making pies, I didn’t feel fulfilled. Knowing there was more to life than making and selling pies was a pull I couldn’t deny.
With the crowd thinning and the bustle of the day settling down, it wasn’t hard to spot the woman walking slowly in the direction of my pie stand. Even in the biggest crowd to ever visit the Farmer’s Market, the woman would have stood out like a sore thumb. She looked completely out of place.
She had thick, blonde hair that was perfectly styled. It was pulled back into a sleek roll at the back of her head that was, by all counts, a simple hairdo yet somehow looked better than any fancy style I had seen at dances and formal events in town. She looked more like someone who had stepped out of a glamour magazine and onto the wrong street in the wrong town. Big cities as they were, I couldn’t imagine a woman like her roaming around the downtown of Cedar Rapids or even Des Moines.
Despite the big, dark sunglasses covering her eyes it was rather obvious she was taking her time walking down the Farmer’s Market. I didn’t blame her—she had probably never seen something like the Fort Dodge Farmer’s Market, much less been surrounded by people who were born and bred in small town Middle-America.
I straightened up and tried, but failed, not to stare at her. I couldn’t help it. She wore the tallest red heels I had ever seen paired with a flowing, calf-length summer dress that looked more expensive than any dress I’d seen in real life. By the time I realized she had stopped walking and was returning my gaze, it was far too late for me to cover up my gawking stare. I managed to quickly get out a sheepish smile and looked down at my remaining two pies.
“Good afternoon,” the woman greeted me in a silky smooth voice. I felt my stomach tumbling as I looked up and smiled with a nod.
“Good afternoon, are you interested in purchasing a blueberry pie?” I felt silly even asking it because the idea of such a glamorous woman coming to purchase one of my homemade pies seemed preposterous to me. And with only two left, I suddenly wondered if my stand looked a little lacking. I chuckled nervously, waiting for her to respond.
The woman shook her head, “Have you done this for long, my dear?”
“Pretty much my whole life,” I gave her a half-smile. I wasn’t ashamed of it by any means, but a part of me had a hard time hiding my dissatisfaction with it.
“Hmm,” she hummed before looking around. She removed her glasses and eyed my pies for a moment before looking back up at me. There was absolutely no disapproval or judgment in her eyes, but there was a sense of curiosity and confusion. I was unsure what to make of it so I stayed quiet, waiting for whatever she had to say next.
“My name is Sonja.” She extended her hand.
“Chloe,” I responded with a warm handshake, in which I immediately noted just how soft the woman’s skin was. I also noticed her perfectly manicured nails. My stomach did another little somersault. I thought these types of women only existed in TV shows and movies. I never dreamed I would see someone like Sonja in the small town of Fort Dodge, much less be speaking to her in front of my pie stand.
“This is a curious place,” the woman went on. She pulled a red-and-white checkered napkin from off the surface of the stand and dabbed the top of her forehead, although I didn’t see a single bead of sweat glistening on her skin. “I won’t be here for long, I have to return to New York for an important shoot. I was just here visiting my sister and—”
“An important shoot?” I said, wincing slightly when I realized I had just cut her off mid-sentence. I wondered if she was talking about pictures or a movie. Either way, I was already enthralled. I found it all the more interesting how she had said it so casually. Those types of things were such a regular part of her life that they probably didn’t seem quite as enchanting as they did to a small town girl like myself.
“Yes, my dear, a photo shoot with one of our veteran models.” She paused and looked me up and down, quietly, making me shift awkwardly from foot to foot. “Have you ever considered modeling, Chloe?”
For some reason, hearing Sonja speak my name brought a big shock to my system that I briefly drowned out what had been asked. Then, when it hit me, I couldn’t help but chuckle.
“No, ma’am, not me.” I immediately bit my lip, sincerely hoping the glamorous New York City woman wouldn’t take offense to the word “ma’am.” I figured Sonja wasn’t all too used to being addressed like that.
“But you have the look,” she said in a hushed tone. “Surely, you have to know you are, well, different?”
I stared at her, completely stunned. Sure, I had been told I was pretty most of my life, but I never dreamed someone like Sonja would be saying the same thing to me. I always tried to ignore the compliments and never let them go to my head. I always assumed I was only ‘small-town-Iowa-pretty’. The women in the city were way different than me and had more to offer by way of glitz and glamour. How could I ever compare to them?
Sonja dug into her clutch and pulled out a sleek looking business card, the word “SHOOT” was emblazoned across the top in a bold red color.
“I’m a model scout at a major New York modeling agency named Shoot,” she explained as she handed me the card. I took it and held it tenderly, as if it were made out of precious material.
“I would love for you to pay me a visit in New York,” she told me as I continued to look at the card stunned. “Let’s make something of those stunning looks you have.”
There was no sound other than the wind blowing through the open windows of my cherry red pickup truck and my busy, if confused, thoughts. Despite still being in a daze after meeting Sonja, I had managed to sell my last two pies just before packing up. I had held onto the business card tight in my hand before hastily shoving it in my wallet. The meaning of that card wasn’t lost on me. That was my ticket out of there. The only ticket out of there I had ever gotten—ever. It was already slightly crinkled from my tight grasp.
A critter scurried across the road and
I instinctively slowed down. My ears finally honed in on the slight rattling noise of the empty cartons and boxes packed away in crates in the back of the truck. My mind constantly replayed everything Sonja had said.
“It’s ridiculous,” I muttered under my breath, reaching forward to switch on the radio. Luckily, one of my favorite songs was about midway through so I started singing along happily to the popular country melody. It was the only thing that distracted me from the card still folded up in my wallet, but it didn’t last long.
Although I liked the song blaring from my speakers and my brown hair was whipping about in the warm air, I was still mentally traveling to New York. By the time I pulled up at home I was starting to wonder if it was really all that absurd to pay Sonja a visit. It was the least I could do right? If nothing came of it in terms of a modeling career, something I had never even considered in my wildest dreams, I would have at least achieved a lifelong goal to visit The Big Apple.
I drew in a slow breath before my mouth curled up into an excitable smile. If nothing else, it was at least an interesting and thrilling story to share with my family, even though my mother would certainly disapprove. She had always pressured me to live the ‘typical Iowa girl life’ of finding a farm boy and raising children. My stomach wrenched a little bit at the thought of having that conversation with her. I hopped out of the truck, deciding to unpack everything the next day, and placed my hand on the car door as I looked back at the long dirt road leading up to my family’s country home.
SHOOT: A Novel Page 1
