"Really?"
"Uh huh."
From the corner of my eye, I see Jackson trying not to laugh.
"Now show me your tongue."
She sticks out her tongue.
"It's pink!" I say.
"Is it really, Daddy?"
Jackson takes his phone out, snaps a photo of Hannah, and shows it to her.
"Wow, that's amazing," she says. "Daddy, can we buy some beetroot?"
"Absolutely," Jackson says, and Hannah beams like she just got her first Christmas gift early.
"My sisters were the same until we started adding small bits of beetroot to everything."
"You're a lifesaver. Can I also take the small pumpkin, a bag of mixed root vegetables, and six apples?"
"Of course."
Hannah leaves with a big smile, and I see her pulling her dad to other stalls. I love the feeling that I can make a little difference in someone's life.
"Oh my god, Ash, you need to go now," Nicki says rushing over.
"What do you mean? Go where?"
"I was looking at the Blackwood Publishing website and they closed entries. It says they will only accept manuscripts they receive today."
Even though I didn't have much hope for my book, my heart still sinks at the thought that I won't even get a chance to enter the competition.
I shrug my shoulders. "Well, that's it then. Do you think they'll run the competition next year?"
Nicki puts her hands on my face and squishes them. "You are going to hand-deliver the manuscript now, hear me?"
I can't move my head, so between my pursed lips all I manage to say is, "How?"
"Their offices are two streets away. In fact, it's very likely you've sold your stuff to many of the people working there. So, I don't care what you do. Give them your name, promise them free vegetables, but make sure the book gets in the hands of Mr. A. Blackwood the Head of Acquisitions, who apparently is in charge of it."
She releases me and grabs my bag from under the stall where I have the envelope containing the manuscript.
"Go. I'll keep an eye here."
I recognize the street I need to find on the map Nicki shows me. It's right off the corner where Xander and I finished our hotdog.
Without the shelter of the stall, the cold November wind bites into my skin. Still not painful enough to make me stop smiling as I turn the corner onto the street.
I see the building straight away and look up. It's a tall building with glass panels all around it.
As I approach, my hands start shaking. I can't believe I'm really doing this.
I stop by the revolving doors and take a deep breath. "Come on, Ash. You can do this. It's no big deal, you're just entering a competition. There's probably hundreds of people competing, so no one is even going to read your book," I say to myself.
A passerby bumps into me from behind. I apologize for being in the way and walk inside the building. The first thing that strikes me is the beautiful, old-fashioned bookstore in the lobby.
