Jeffrey was a plant.“Ah, you should get it to remember your times in Boringville.”
She gave a slight frown before swatting at my arm. “You’re teasing me, but I’ll accept it because this place is magical. Can I buy this?”
“Absolutely,” the old man said, jutting his chin to another pile. “It’s two for ten if you want to pick a bracelet. All proceeds are going to help our granddaughter get a therapy dog.”
Nora’s entire body frowned. Her shoulders slumped, and she made the smallest noise of concern. “Oh, that’s wonderful you’re helping. I hope you raise enough. Hm, I could buy a few…maybe sell them to help. Do you have a business card?”
“Sure. What are you thinking?” the older man asked, reaching into in his back pocket for a second before pulling out a card.
“One day, I’m going to open my own greenhouse. I want to have therapy—maybe your granddaughter would even like it! But these are perfect to sell there.”
The old man blushed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’d be honored.”
Nora beamed at him, and the wildest, foreign sensation formed in my gut. Envy? That wouldn’t make sense. Why would I be envious of Nora Atwood? I chewed on the side of my mouth and shuffled my weight back and forth, trying to find the source of the odd feeling. She was making connections without scaring people off. She hadn’t sounded naïve or silly once, and instead of encouraging that, I was being moody.
I was getting really sick of myself.
“I’ll just get the one for now, though. It’ll be a nice reminder until I get the greenhouse up and running.” Nora took out the credit card she now waved around like an accessory—I smiled, thinking about how proud she was she knew how to use one—and the older gentleman frowned.
“Ah, I can’t take cards. I’m sorry. We don’t have enough revenue to pay for those wireless card readers.”
“Oh.” Nora froze, her wide eyes filling with concern.
“I’ll cover it, don’t worry,” I said, pulling out my wallet and handing him a five. “Put it on, Nora.”
“Are you…are you sure?” Her voice lacked her usual upbeat tone, and she held the necklace to her chest and frowned. “You don’t have to.”
“I know. Consider it an investment in your future business.” I shrugged and my chest grew warm seeing her and the older man exchange smiles. I ran a hand over my beard and cleared my throat, scanning the area for the coffee bar. The few times I’d been there, two women had the most delicious blend I’d ever had. “I’m going to get a coffee. Want one, Nora?”
“No, I’m quite okay. I don’t need caffeine. Not with all this to look at! I feel like my heart is a butterfly in a tornado, spinning around without direction. I want to go everywhere all at once.” She tried unclasping the necklace a few times and grunted when she failed each time. “My damn thumb is too calloused to get this.”
“Come here.” I sighed as I held out my hand. She stared at it, confusion swirling in her very brown eyes. “I’ll put it on you.”
She smiled again, this one reaching her eyes, and maybe it was the way the sunlight hit her perfectly, or how she had a little red on her cheeks, or the passion in her eyes, but it struck me how beautiful she was. Dainty nose, smooth skin, long lashes, and eyes that had stories to tell. “Thanks, Fritz. Best chauffeur ever.”
And there it went.
She spun around, and I put the necklace around her neck, trying not to think about how close we were. Her back hit my chest, and despite her short hair, I could smell her floral shampoo. It was pleasant, and after two tries of getting the clasp, it was on. I ran a finger over the back of her neck, smoothing out the metal chain, and she shivered. Her skin was so soft and warm. Would she react like this if I pressed my lips against her? If I trailed my tongue along her jawline to her collarbone? Would goose bumps break out if I grazed her earlobe with my teeth? My skin heated, and my fingers lingered on her too long. Enough to make me take a large step back.
“How does it look? Does it go with my outfit?” She twirled around, looking like a maniac, and I couldn’t stop my smile.
“Looks great.”
She stopped, whipped her head in the direction of organic vegetables, and then she was gone. She reminded me of Gilly at a designer sale or the teacher store, where she would bounce around from item to item, unable to decide what to focus on. It was entertaining to see to Nora enjoying herself. Seeing her smile made me inexplicably happy. She radiated joy here, and I found myself walking with a little spring in my step. I’d brought her here, showed her this place. It felt good.
She spoke with the owner of the organic vegetable booth as she picked up about six different vegetables and held them against her chest. I could show her how to cook, how to make our family vegetable salad, but what if they didn’t take credit cards? I pulled two twenties out of my wallet and walked them over to her. Her eyes widened, and she spoke loud and fast. “These are pesticide-free. All of them. Look at how clean they are. They smell so fresh. Wow. How does everyone not eat these? Why are they not at the stores?”
“They are, but not everyone can afford them.” I held up the twenties and put them in the extralarge pocket of her overalls. “Go crazy. On me.”
“Fritz, I’ll pay you back, really. I didn’t realize it was cash-only.”
“Don’t worry about it. I should’ve thought ahead.”
She hummed in response and went back to talking to the couple.
I searched out the coffee booth. The women who ran it only did so on the weekends as they tried to get enough income to keep going. I got to talking to them about it about six months ago on a visit here, and their story had stuck with me. Their passion and patience were admirable. They were my favorite booth and by far had the best coffee.
They were tough, smart, and hopeful. They wanted to go green—all recyclable cups and lids, no straws, and bakery items coming from local shops to put revenue back into the community.
