He took it off the table and handed it to the stall owner. “I’ll take this, please.”
Zita gasped. “No. Don’t be silly, David.”
He ignored her as he paid and took the package. “For you,” he said, holding it out to Zita.
She put her hands behind her back. “No. I didn’t expect you to buy it for me.”
“I know.” There was no artifice with her. She wasn’t the type to say one thing and mean another. “It’s a gift.”
“David, it’s sweet, but I can’t accept it.”
“Sure you can. I’ve already bought it and it won’t suit me.” He smiled at her, guessing what would convince her. “You don’t want me to have wasted my money, do you?”
She squirmed. “No.”
It fascinated him that she was so reluctant. She was so generous to everyone else.
“I wasn’t giving you a hint.”
His stupid reaction from the other night was working its way into their date. “Iknowthat, Zita. Take the bag.”
She took it and peered inside. “Thank you, David.” She stepped closer and brushed her lips against his cheek.
He resisted the urge to turn his head so her lips met his. It wasn’t why he’d bought it. “You’re most welcome.”
Zita took the watch out. “Will you help me put it on?”
He took it from her, undid the fiddly little clasp, and placed it on her slim wrist before doing it up again.
She ran a finger over the clock face. “It’s gorgeous.”
It was also inexpensive. He didn’t understand why she hadn’t bought it herself.
They walked on, stopping at a stall to buy treats for Zita’s dogs, and then at a stall run by a Hispanic woman who was maybe a couple of years younger than Zita.
“Daniella,” Zita greeted the young woman. “How’s business?”
“It’s a bit slow today. The weather keeps people away.”
“It’s not that cold,” Zita said. “Daniella, this is David.” She turned to him. “Daniella is one of my foster sisters. She lives in one of the little cabins out the back of Casa Flanagan.”
“Nice to meet you,” he said, shaking her hand. The stall contained beautiful ceramic items. “Did you make these?”
Daniella nodded. “It’s a hobby of mine.”
“Daniella is studying political science,” Zita told him. “She hopes to one day go back to Honduras and make a difference.”
It took a lot of bravery to go back to a country she’d fled from. “That’s admirable.”
Daniella shook her head. “I want to stop other girls from going through what I did.”
He didn’t ask what that was. He didn’t want to pry. Instead, he looked at the bowls and chose a medium-sized one. “I’ve wanted a fruit bowl,” he said, handing over the money.
Daniella wrapped the bowl in tissue paper and placed it in a paper bag. “I hope you enjoy it.”
Zita and Daniella chatted for a little longer and then said goodbye.
As they wandered to the next stall, Zita said, “You didn’t need to buy the bowl.”
