“I didn’t accuse; Iobserved,” Basil said, arms crossed. “Her cooler’s been unplugged since nine a.m.”
Lola slammed down her cheese knife. “Becausesomeonetripped the extension cord running underhisfancy Brie display.”
“Okay,” I said, checking Olive’s vitals just to look busy. “Pulse steady, respiration normal, dramatic flair elevated.”
Chris nodded, spreading his arms out to keep the onlookers back.
Lola jabbed a finger toward Basil’s stall. “Hedeliberatelytilted his canopy so the sun melted my cheddar samples first. That’s predatory behavior.”
Basil sniffed. “Your ‘cheddar’ is more orange than a road cone, Lola. It deserves to melt.”
“Say that again, you pasteurized peacock?—”
“Enough!” I shouted, kneeling beside Olive, who cracked one eye open.
“Oh, heavens.” She sighed, limp as overcooked spaghetti. “I saw tempers rising and my blood sugar fell in solidarity.”
“You’re fine,” I told her gently. “But maybe stay out of the line of dairy fire next time.”
Bitsy leaned in conspiratorially. “She’s faking, of course. Classic de-escalation strategy. It’s why she’s in charge of church bake sales.”
Meanwhile, Marigold had started spritzing Olive’s face using a sample bottle of Maple Mist toner from the skincare booth next door. “For hydration,” she declared.
Satisfied she wasn’t about to keel over, I stood and gave my report. “Dispatch, patient stable. No transport needed. We’ll clear the scene.”
I helped Olive up, got her a folding chair and a cold glass of lemonade, and tried to wrap my head around this latest lunacy. Once we had taken her vitals, established that she had not suffered any serious medical event, and was, in fact, in perfect health, we packed up.
“Please don’t tell my grandson,” Olive pleaded. “He’s angry with me because we got a little rowdy while watchingThe Golden Bachelorthis week. I’ll get another lecture about misuse of community resources.” She rolled her eyes. I would, in fact, be telling Nolan. He’d cut a deal with Chief Ashburn a few years ago to keep tabs on his wild grandma, who was a known quantity to every first responder in town.
As I turned toward the rig, Lola called out, “Wait. You have to try my smoked maple cheddar. It’s the taste of Vermont in a bite. Aged six years.”
Basil snorted. “Please. Jasper and Evie are my close friends.” He glared at her. “I respect this man too much to expose him to your subpar curds.”
Bitsy shoved a toothpick stuck in a cube of Lola’s cheddar into my hand before Basil could object. “Just one bite, Jasper. Be diplomatic.”
I sighed, chewing as every set of eyes watched me like I was judging the Olympics. “It’s… good.”
Basil scoffed. “Good? Try this triple-cream Brie and then tell me if that’sgood.” He slid over a wedge the size of my fist.
Before I knew it, I had three samples in my hands, and Sally Murphy was snapping photos for the town Facebook page which she would surely captionFirst Responder Chooses Sides in Cheese War II.
I swallowed and wiped my mouth. “All right, all right. Official verdict—cheese is amazing. You are both excellent at what you do. Now please go back to your businesses and resume your days.”
Olive, now sitting upright and sipping lemonade like a queen, beamed. “See? Peace through dairy diplomacy.”
As I headed back toward the rig, it was hard not to notice that the farmers’ market seemed less busy than usual. The line of kids for balloon animals was short and the bakery hadn’t even sold out of cinnamon rolls yet.
“Don’t worry, dear,” Bitsy said. “We can keep the peace from here on out. Sometimes you’ve just got to get dramatic to make sure no punches are thrown.”
As we pulled away, I glanced in the rearview mirror. I couldn’t wait to tell Evie about this latest ridiculousness. Just thinking about her made me grin. Even as I wrote up theincident report for the unhinged bullshit that went down at the farmer’s market, my mood couldn’t be dampened.
As I stepped inside,I was engulfed in the scents of coffee and baby lotion. The combination was familiar and cozy, if not a little chaotic.
Immediately, I was stunned stupid by the view.
Evie sat on the couch, laptop perched on the coffee table, wearing a purple blouse and makeup. With earbuds in place, she spoke assertively, her focus fixed on the computer’s built-in camera. Next to the laptop was a half-empty cup of coffee and a stack of files and pens. She talked quickly, her hand grazing a binder filled with color-coded tabs.
She looked brighter and more energized than I’d seen her since that night a year ago. It was hard not to stare.
