Lane sighed. He’d run out of time to load up the gourds. If he’d loaded those up too, he wouldn’t have made it to her shop by closing time like his dad had promised Gemma. “No, ma’am. They’ll be coming tomorrow.”
“Gemma said they’d be coming with the pumpkins.”
“Yes, well. If you want to know all about it, I had a mishap with my chickens today and, well, I got a late start on loading your order up. I’ll have to bring them over tomorrow.”
She nodded. “Gemma mentioned you raised chickens. I wouldn’t mind possibly carrying some farm-fresh eggs in my shop. Would you consider something like that?”
“You’d have to talk to Dad about that. He takes care of all of the orders.” Not that Lane had never taken an order in his life, but frankly, he didn’t care to deal with the crazy woman anymore.
“Yes, alright. I can call him.”
Lane’s baseball cap bobbed curtly and he started back to his truck. The sound of her feet crunching against the gravel trailed behind him.
“Oh, Mr. Dawson, wait up. I have another question.”
Lane sighed and then slowly turned around. “Yes?”
“You don’t by any chance carry goats, do you?”
Lane tipped his head sideways. He wasn’t sure if he’d heard her correctly. “Carry goats?”
She nodded, watching him curiously. “Yes. You know, the animals.”
“Yes, I know what a goat is. What do you mean by do I carry goats?”
“Well, obviously I didn’t mean carry goats. I meant do you raise goats. You know, at your farm. I’d like to speak to you about possibly renting some.”
Lane’s upper lip twitched. “You want to rent some goats?”
“Yes, I teach yoga class five mornings a week, and I’d like to bring goat yoga to Stoney Brook. I think the people here might really enjoy it.”
“Goat yoga? What in the heck is goat yoga?”
Evanee face softened as she smiled. “Well, it’s just like regular yoga, except there are goats wandering around. They wander around and sometimes jump on the backs of people doing yoga. It feels good, and it’s actually proven to be very therapeutic and a great stress reliever.”
“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” he marveled, shaking his head. The things city people were willing to pay for astounded him.
“Yes, they had goat yoga in my hometown. I’d really like to add that to my class. At least once a week if possible. I could buy my own goats, but I don’t have the proper setup for them. I’d need to add fencing and whatnot. Perhaps down the road I’ll look into it, but I just don’t have the time right now.”
“So you’d like to rent my goats.”
She nodded.
“And you just assume that I have goats?”
“You don’t?”
“Just because I raise organic fruits and vegetables and chickens, now I’m a goat farmer too?” He touched his finger to his chest and pretended to be offended.
Evanee’s brows lifted and her mouth formed a little O. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to assume anything,” she kind of stuttered. “I was just asking if you did…”
He could tell he’d made her feel bad for assuming. Served her right. She’d been nothing but a pain in his keister since they’d met. “Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t carry goats,” he snapped, maybe a little harsher than he’d intended. “I’m a farmer, not a goat herder.”
Lane could see her walls shoot back up again. Her soft smile faded and she swallowed hard. She nodded curtly at him. “Yes, tomorrow will be fine with the gourds.” Then she spun around and strode back into the building and disappeared.
As Lane got back into his truck to drive away, he almost felt bad that he’d snapped at her. But she hadn’t needed to be so rude with him. He leaned out his truck window and let a big wad of spit fly out his mouth. After all, who was she to tell him that chewing tobacco was a nasty habit? Just who, exactly, did she think she was?
Lane’s tires spat dust and gravel as he sped away, frustrated that he hadn’t had time to load his gourds, because now he’d have to pay her another house call. And he most certainly was not looking forward to running into Miss Evanee Woods ever again.
3
“He was horrible, Gem, a real, honest-to-goodness rude man,” explained Evanee as she navigated her Tahoe along the long, winding Green River Road, which connected Stoney Brook and Guilford. Surrounded by a forest of newly turning fall foliage, she drove with her window down, and the late-afternoon fall air took hold of her dark brown hair and spun it, but she didn’t notice as she talked a mile a minute on the phone. After Lane Dawson had gone, she’d stomped inside her shop spitting mad, too angry to talk. So she’d let Gemma close up, she’d loaded Bluebell Adams’s lanterns into her Tahoe, and she’d taken off.
Once Evanee had finished her delivery, she was of the opinion that there was no better way to overcome a bout of anger than to practice some retail therapy. So she was now on her way to Brattleboro to attend the opening day of their traveling fall flea market. She wanted to be the first to snap up all the best antiques before the collectors got there and beat her to the most interesting and unique finds.
“He spat on my shoe, Gemma!”
“Ugh, no, he didn’t—”
“He did! Do you know how much these shoes cost me, Gem?”
“Aren’t those the boots that you got at that little secondhand boutique in Dover?”
Evanee paused for a split second. “That’s not the point, Gem. They’re real suede! And then do you know what he did? He bent down and rubbed the spit into my shoe! I may never get that stain out!”
“Well, I have to say,” said Gemma through a light chuckle. “That sounds like Lane.”
Evanee had her Bluetooth-enabled phone set to play through her car’s speakers, so she didn’t have to hold it to her ear while driving. Her eyes flitted from side to side, making sure not to encounter a deer or a moose or even a cow as she zipped around the curves. “So you do know him? I thought you said Steve was going to be making our delivery.”
“Steve is Lane’s father,” explained Gemma, though Evanee already knew that, courtesy of Lane himself. “They don’t usually deliver to me. I usually run out there and pick up my order. It saves on a delivery fee.”
“So how do you know Lane?”
“How do I know anyone in this one-horse town?” Gemma laughed. “I went to school with him. He was several years older than me and Matthew, though. I think he might’ve been a senior when Matthew was a freshman. And let’s see… when Matthew was a freshman, I would’ve been in seventh grade. So that would make Lane what? Six years older than me? And I’m twenty-nine, so that would make Lane what, about thirty-five?”
“Well, I’m glad to see the Stoney Brook High math teacher did their job.”
“Ha-ha. I was just curious how old he was. He’s not married, you know,” said Gemma in a bit of a singsongy tone.
Evanee’s eyes flared open wider and her brows shot up. “Well, that’s a complete shocker. I can hardly see why! I mean, what a catch.”
“Be nice. Lane’s a decent guy. Matthew and I get along with him just fine. From everything I’ve heard, his family’s been through a lot over the years, so I don’t think he’s very social.”
“Ya think? I mean, he spat on my shoe, Gemma. Who does that?”
“You act surprised. I told you you weren’t going to find any princes around here.”
Evanee sighed. Even though she knew the pickings in the sparsely populated area were slim, she’d hoped there might be a diamond buried somewhere under a haystack. But she was beginning to think she’d just been fooling herself. “You might be right.”
“What?! You’re conceding? The always-right Evanee Woods is actually conceding?!”
Evanee rolled her eyes.
“I’m shocked. I really am.”
“Quit it,” said Evanee. She already was in a lousy mood. She didn’t feel like being teased by her friend.
&nb
sp; “What did you say? You’re breaking up.”
“Can you hear me?” Evanee looked at her phone. She only had one bar. There was nothing she hated worse than poor reception.
“Barely,” said Gemma.
“Listen, I better let you go. I need to calm down before I get to Brattleboro.”
“Ohhh, don’t go getting salty on me, Ev. I was just playing with you.”
“I know. I’ll be alright. I’m just still tense from my encounter with Mr. Dawson.”
“Well, I think you just caught him on an off day. Usually he’s not that bad. Everyone deserves a second chance.”
“Mmm,” purred Evanee, unprepared to commit to giving him one. “We’ll see. Okay, Gem. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You wanna come over for supper tonight? Matthew’s smoking a brisket.”
“Tempting, but no thank you.”
“What? I can’t hear you?”
“I said tempting, but no thank you. I’ll have to unload when I get home, and I’ll probably want to start cleaning up some of my finds. Plus it might be late. Raincheck?”
“Okay, well, you don’t need a raincheck. You’re always welcome for supper. I hope your retail therapy does what you want it to do.”
“Thanks, Gem. Talk to you tomorrow.”
“Bye, Ev.”
Evanee got lost in her thoughts as she cruised through Guilford. Ten minutes later she pulled into Brattleboro. The cars flooding into the midsized town astounded her. Even though she’d attended the flea market for the last two years, she continued to be impressed by the turnout at this particular event.
Traffic bottlenecked as cars turned onto Old Guilford Road, which led to the big open area where the biannual flea market was held. She merged into the line and twenty minutes later, she was out of her car and standing amongst the wide assortment of treasures. She almost didn’t know where to start as she looked around. Tents had been erected all over the place. Vendors had their wares set out neatly, with smaller items leaning against pieces of furniture and even smaller items on portable shelving units. There were antiques and junk and rusted things and wooden things. It was an antique collector’s paradise. All thoughts of the rude man she’d encountered earlier disappeared, and Evanee’s spirit was buoyed once again. She couldn’t wait to get started.
With a sparkle in her eye and a spring in her step, Evanee began her methodical path with the very first tent.
The sun had just begun to fade when Evanee made her sixth trip from the parking lot back to the flea market. She’d loaded her Tahoe yet again and was barely able to get her trunk to shut, it was so full of her newfound treasures. But, as she always did, she’d left her front seat free for her final trip. After this, the sun would be down, the vendors would close for the day, and it would be too dark to see. She felt like she’d done some decent damage. She’d partially restocked her lantern supply. She’d found some vintage milk jugs, a large hand-carved wooden swan that she couldn’t imagine life without, an antique oak wash station complete with porcelain washbasin, and many other little “smalls” that would be perfect for her shop.
And even though she’d been going at it for hours, when she started down the flea market’s final row, she found herself just as invigorated and excited as when she’d begun. Her eyes scanned the first booth. She made sure to look high and low. One never knew what treasures awaited one under a table or hanging above the tent or on a high wall. Some of her best finds had come from inside closed cardboard boxes or hidden behind a piece of furniture. It paid to be thorough.
Squatted down on her haunches, Evanee fingered an antique metal gasoline sign that she thought might look cute in one of her displays when she heard the slightest meow. She looked over her shoulder but didn’t see anything. She turned back around to inspect the sign closer when she heard the meowing again. Evanee looked over her shoulder one more time and caught the tail end of something furry zipping past the booth.
Curious, Evanee stood up, walked out of the booth and looked down the alley. There were a few people milling around, but no signs of anything furry.
“Huh,” she whispered to herself. “That was weird.”
Evanee went back to the tin sign and decided to pull the trigger. An expert negotiator, she negotiated the price and walked away feeling like she’d gotten the sign for a great deal. She stuffed her change in the purse that hung crosswise over her body and tucked the sign under her arm. As she made her way back down the alleyway, she’d taken only two steps when she heard another meow. Her body froze and she turned her head to see the biggest, fluffiest gray cat she’d ever seen in her life staring at her. The cat had enormous emerald-green eyes, and the fur around her neck was longer than the rest, like a lion’s mane.
Evanee’s eyes brightened. “You’re gorgeous,” she breathed.
The cat seemed to like what she heard. She sat down and wrapped her tail around her body.
“May I pet you?”
“Meow.” The cat stood and strode proudly over to Evanee, rubbing her body on Evanee’s leg.
Evanee knelt down in front of her and ran her hand down along her back. The cat beamed as Evanee caressed her soft fur and scratched beneath her chin.
“Can I take you home with me?” asked Evanee, wide-eyed.
The cat stood up then and sauntered away. But she made sure to look back over her shoulder at Evanee. She flicked her tail back and forth as if to say, Come on, follow me.
Evanee’s eyes flickered around to look at the vendors around her. She was curious who the cat belonged to. But no one seemed to notice that Evanee was petting her, or that the cat was even there. So when the cat sashayed between booths and disappeared behind a vintage green truck parked at the rear of the flea market, Evanee felt compelled to follow. When she came around the truck, she discovered the cat seated on the ground, seemingly waiting for her.
“Where are you going?”
“Meow.”
“Are you lost?”
The furry feline stood up and darted ahead.
As if she were enchanted and had no will of her own, Evanee followed.
The cat came to a screeching halt in front of the last booth in the row. She turned and ran inside, beneath the tent.
Hoping that she’d finally gotten the cat back to its owner, she pivoted on her heel and followed her into the booth, but the cat was no longer in sight. Evanee frowned. Somehow she’d gotten away from her.
She heard a meow again.
Evanee’s eyes scanned the booth. Where had that come from?
She heard it again. It had come from beneath a table. In a cardboard box of all places!
Evanee squatted down and pulled the box out from underneath the table. One of the top flaps had been torn, allowing the cat easy entrance. For a split second, Evanee wondered if the cat had a litter of kittens hiding inside. Had that been why she’d been so insistent on Evanee following her?
Opening the flaps, Evanee quickly discovered there were no kittens inside, but instead a snow globe nestled amongst a pile of old clothes.
The cat’s furry paw rested on top of the snow globe, like she’d claimed it for her own.
Evanee tipped her head sideways. What a funny scene. A cat attached to a snow globe? Evanee grinned. “Can I see your snow globe?” she asked.
“Meow.”
With a giggle, Evanee lifted the globe out of its box. “Well, thank you! That’s so kind of you.”
It was a large, heavy snow globe. The base was made of brass and embossed with swirls and stars. Inside was a miniature four-poster bed, a desk and chair with a sewing machine, an armoire filled with colorful dresses and a young woman standing next to a dress form, pinning the most beautiful gown Evanee had ever seen. The medieval maiden gown had a scoop neck, with puffy white sleeves, a drop waist, a red, split-front skirt, and a matching sash. She sucked in her breath. How perfect would that be for the Stoney Brook Renaissance Festival? If she was going to be part of the show, she needed something as stun
ning as the dress in the globe. She wondered if perhaps she could find a local seamstress to make a life-sized replica of the dress in the globe for her. Perhaps one of her talented apron makers could replicate the dress.
She gave the globe a gentle shake, and a flurry of snow erupted from the bottom of the ball, covering the bed, the desk, the armoire, and the girl and her dress form with tiny particles of white. It was a lovely scene. Something Evanee was sure she’d never see again, as it was quite unique. Squealing, she hugged the globe to her chest. Once again, her best find had come from a box beneath a table! She shook her head in awe. How exciting!
She stood and turned around, holding the globe. “Excuse me, how much for the snow globe?”
An old man sitting on a barstool lowered his book and peered at her over the top of his glasses. “It’s unique, isn’t it?”
Evanee nodded. “Very.”
“One hundred.”
“One hundred dollars?! For a snow globe?” she swished her lips to the side. “That’s too much. What’s your bottom line?”
“Oh, I suppose I could do eighty.”
Evanee clucked her tongue and set the globe back down in the box. “Oooh, that’s out of my budget, I’m afraid.” She stood and began to walk away.
“Well, what could you afford?” The man was interested now. He set his book down and removed his glasses.
“For a snow globe? I’d hate to offend you with a lower offer.”
He shrugged. “It’s almost closing time. I’d love to sell one more thing before I have to close up.”
Evanee thought about it for a second. Once she had a replica of the dress made, she could sell the snow globe in her shop and recoup her money. Perhaps she could go as high as fifty. The cat meowed.
“Your cat is sure beautiful. She really seems to like the snow globe.”
He winced, lifting one brow skeptically. “She’s kind of got an attitude about that snow globe, alright. Doesn’t let too many people near it, to be honest.”
“Really? Isn’t that odd? She was the one that led me right to it!”
Snow Way Out: A Mystic Snow Globe Romantic Mystery (The Mystic Snow Globe Mystery Series Book 2) Page 3
