“Also, because I’ve built the family tree on their site and allowed my profile to be public and my DNA to be in their database, if anyone else matches with us DNA-wise, I’ll get an email notification,” Daisy says and that gets my full attention. “We’ll likely find relatives we didn’t know we had. There was a match on Mom’s side already. This man named Evan who is supposed to be Amaryllis’s son. Lives in Portsmouth, New Hampshire.”
“Do not bring this up in front of Dad, Daisy,” I say quietly but firmly. “Talk to Mom about it discretely when he’s not around because if he knows you’re on this site, he will figure out who else you’re looking for. Dad is not dumb. And most definitely do not bring it up in front of Clyde.”
“No. I know. I won’t.” Daisy nods solemnly but gives me a tiny, quick excited smile before our parents get out of their truck. “But it’s exciting right?”
“In a this-could-end-in-disaster sort of way,” I reply with a frown.
“Shush,” Daisy says and Dad hops out of the truck and gives us a big smile.
Two and a half hours later, we’re having a great sales day, but all I can think about is how Tate isn’t here. Mom has already had to drop off more blue cheese because we’ve sold out and Dad came back with more caramels and is upselling a nice lady at the counter, convincing her she needs the bigger jar of honey while Daisy and I prep more samples. That’s when the day takes a turn because I hear George say something to Jace that piques my interest.
“Where’s the gift basket the city purchased?” George asks his grandson.
I glance over at them. Raquel is ringing up one customer with her best resting bitch face on full display while Jace hands another one a sample of their caramel apples. George is digging around at the back of the booth, I assume for this basket he mentioned.
“I left it in the cooler because I didn’t want the apple butter to get too runny,” Jace explains.
I can’t help but stare as he walks over and opens a cooler and pulls out a nicely decorated wicker basket filled with Adler Farms products. George admires it. “Did you decorate this, Raquel honey? It looks wonderful.”
Raquel turns away from the customer without so much as a “thanks and come again” and beams at her grandfather. “Thanks Gramps. I worked on it last night. I would have done much better if Jace had bothered to give me more notice.”
“I think it’s lovely, doll.” George kisses the top of his granddaughter’s head and then turns to Jace with a frown. “You really shouldn’t spring stuff on your cousin like that. She’s talented, but it isn’t fair.”
Jace rolls his eyes. “Next time I’ll find the ribbon and glue gun and do it myself.”
“That’s not the answer. Stop being a smart ass,” George snaps.
“Hey folks!” Ethel Morris walks up and smiles from under the brim of the biggest straw hat I have ever seen. “Happy Market Day!”
“Hi, Ethel,” I say smiling back. Everyone else greets her just as warmly. “Are you here to grab some goat cheese? Honey?”
Ethel smiles warmly. “Oh sweetie, I’m not doing my personal shopping just yet. Business before pleasure. My city always comes first. I’m here for the gift baskets.”
“What gift baskets?” Daisy asks before I get the chance.
“Not your concern, girls,” Jace says firmly and turns to Ethel with a smile as he hands her the basket George was yammering on about. “Here you are, Ethel. It’s under budget too at forty-five dollars and forty-nine cents. But we’ll round down and call it forty-five. Because we love our city as much as you do.”
Ethel beams at that, although it’s hard to really see her face with that silly hat. Seriously, the thing is like a flying saucer on her head. She takes the basket and puts it down on the table in front of her as she rummages around in the fanny pack around her waist. She pulls out a fistful of money and counts forty-five dollars into Jace’s outstretch hand.
“Ethel, do you mind if I ask what is this for?” Dad asks.
“The town hall sent an email to the fall market participants. You didn’t get it?” Ethel looks confused and digs in her fanny pack again and pulls out a rumpled piece of paper. She smooths it out and clears her throat like she’s about to give a speech.
I watch my dad’s face contort in frustration as Ethel begins to speak. “Dear fall market entrepreneurs, the town council would like to purchase gift baskets from each of you at a cost of fifty dollars or less per basket, per booth. These baskets should feature the best of your products and will be raffled off by the city during our new annual Harvest Festival. It’s our way to give back to you, our local businesses while also promoting all you have to offer. Please be sure to include marketing material about your business and its location as we hope it will attract you new business. Sincerely, your town council.”
Ethel looks up smiling.
“We didn’t get that email,” I say with anger igniting inside me as I see Jace’s smug smile. “We don’t have a basket for you.”
“Oh… I…” Ethel looks at the paper again and after a minute she looks up, relieved. “Oh it’s okay. You’re not on the list, so we couldn’t pay you for it anyway. No worries.”
She shoves the paper back in her fanny pack and picks up the basket.
“No. I mean we should have been on the list. We’re part of the market. We are half of this booth.”
Ethel looks stricken. “But you and Tate agreed not to share the booth last time we talked, remember? You never told us you changed your minds.”
“They didn’t. The police officer told them they had to share,” George Adler barks at poor little Ethel who looks more confused than ever.
