She laughed and I knew she found humor in this but I was dead serious. This guy, this dickhead douchebag guy, had been terrible to Shay. The way he ended things with her was bad enough but then he went months without once bothering to check on her until he decided it was very urgent that he see her in person.
I still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to this. It was moments like these that made me want to shake her until she understood that she deserved better. That she needed to expect a lot more from people.
And there was a narrow splinter of dread inside me at the possibility of Shay seeing her ex again and realizing I was nothing more than a placeholder. I didn’t expect her to go running into his open arms but I couldn’t eliminate the possibility entirely. If not the ex, there was a chance she’d run into the open arms of the life she’d left behind. I knew she missed Boston and missed all her friends. Returning to Friendship after living in a busy city was tough. I knew all about it. Probably tougher than growing up in that particular snow globe and fighting your way out only to get dragged right back in.
I knew I was up against everything today but I wasn’t going down easy.
* * *
The market gotunderway and I was too busy to obsess over worst-case scenarios. We sold out of all the new strawberry quince jams and Shay was selling the shit out of blueberry lemon lavender. That one required skill. Not everyone could get down with lavender. Meanwhile, I was struggling to keep up with her pace. We’d sell out of blueberry lemon lavender long before I moved even a handful of spiced pear.
We caught a break after the second hour, which was the usual time for the early birds to head out and the next wave to start trickling in. Shay turned to me with a devious smile. “You have fangirls.”
“I have—what?”
“Fangirls,” she repeated. “Did you not listen while all those women went on and on about how happy they are to see you again and it’s been so long since you came to this market and they look for you every time they see the Little Star banner?”
I grabbed a box from under the table, busied myself restocking jars of mixed berry jam. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s something,” she countered. “You have quite the reputation.”
“I was the only one,” I said, “back when we started with jam. I was the only one coming to farmers markets. People associated me with the jam.”
“Yes, I definitely heard mention of the Jam Man.”
“They don’t call me that.” I inspected a jar just to avoid acknowledging her smirk. “That didn’t happen.”
“Oh, it happened.” She dragged a finger from my wrist to my elbow. “They also love the way you roll up your sleeves. I heard more than a few whispers about forearm porn.”
I shook my head. I could feel my ears turning red. “They just remember me from the early days. That’s all.”
“Come for the forearms, stay for the jam. That’s quite the business plan.” She cocked her hip and regarded me for a moment. “Is that the secret to your success?”
I returned to the box in front of me. “I’m more interested in maximizing resources and minimizing waste but sure, that works too.”
“Not that I blame them,” she said under her breath.
Shay looked up suddenly. She stared across the market. A man stood near the front of the tent, his gaze shifting as if he had no clue where he was and he couldn’t wait to get out of here. He wore khaki pants and a polo shirt with the insignia of one of the area’s most exclusive golf clubs, and he resembled every unimpressive guy I met in college and law school who’d been raised to believe everything about himself was fully impressive.
In short, I wanted to wing a jar of tangerine marmalade at his head.
He held up his hand and pointed to the picnic tables in the center of the tent.
“You don’t have to do this,” I said. “You don’t have to go over there.”
“I know. I just need to find out what he wants and maybe get a little closure.” She braced her hands on my shoulders and pushed up on her toes to kiss my cheek. “I’ve got this. I’ll be quick. I promise.”
* * *
Shay
The first thingyou needed to know about Xavier was that he talked for a living. He made deals all day, every day, and his phone was glued to his hand. He traveled most of the month because he knew he could close more deals in person, apply more pressure. The man knew how to string words together to get what he wanted.
Knowing that, it was bizarre when he stammered and fumbled through simple pleasantries. At the same time, everything about him seemed bizarre. He kept scanning the tent and he looked clammy, like he had a low-grade fever or a bad hangover.
“What’s going on with you now?” He ran the back of his hand over his sweaty forehead as he asked this. Wiped that hand on his khakis. It was cool inside the tent and chilly outside. I didn’t know why he was such a mess. “And what’s with the farmers market?”
“I’m here with my—” I stopped myself, not knowing how best to explain the present shape of my life to Xavier. But did Xavier need that much information? Did it even matter to him? This was just idle chatter. He didn’t care, and thus, he didn’t deserve an explanation. “I tagged along with Noah today.”
