“Thanks,” she said, turning her face toward him, her smile wide and genuine.
He parked the car.“What shall we do first?The races don’t start for another hour, but there’s a craft market over there.”He pointed to their left.
“I haven’t been to one in a while.Mom and I went to one around Christmas, but otherwise…”
“What about farmers markets?”
“I haven’t been to many of those either,” she said.
“Mom’s always working,” piped in Riley.“Grandma takes me, though.”
“And which stalls do you most prefer?”he asked Riley.
“The chocolates, and the ice cream stand.”
Simon laughed out loud.“Of course!”
“Can we go see, Mom?”
“Yes, let’s go.Though the chocolate will have to wait until after lunch,” she warned.
Riley whooped, and Simon chuckled.“You didn’t say anything about ice cream,” he whispered to Sarah.
“No,” she said in a low voice.“I must have forgotten.”
He chuckled again when he saw the expression on her face.She hadn’t forgotten.She had deliberately left ice cream off her list of prohibited items.
ChapterTwenty-Five
The craft market was better than Sarah expected.It was teeming with people, who strolled past the stands displaying everything from jewelry and leather goods to artisan cheese, plants, vegetables, and of course chocolate.
They paused in front of a pottery display, and Simon spoke to the potter.“Haven’t seen you in the studio for a while, Art.”
“I finished setting up my home studio and built my kiln,” said Art.“But I’ve got a class to teach this fall, so I’ll be around.”
“And started with raku, I see,” said Simon, examining a cream-colored vase decorated with what looked like black webbing.“Nice work.”
“Thanks.If you ever want to give it a try, let me know.”
“I’ll do that.”He turned to Sarah and drew her closer.“Sarah, this is Art.He is, or rather was, one of my students.He’s far surpassed my skills now, though, as you can see.Art, this is Sarah.”
Sarah smiled and shook Art’s hand.“Your work is gorgeous.”
“Thanks,” he said.“Are you one of Simon’s students?”
She looked up at Simon and caught him looking down at her, his eyes warm.
“Not yet.Though one day I’d like to give it a try,” she said.
“Well, if you’re like me, once you spend any time with Simon in the studio, you’ll be addicted.I joined when my mom died.She was a potter, and I wanted to feel closer to her and use up the lumps of clay in her garage.Now I understand her addiction.There’s always one more pot to try, one more technique to master.It’s become a huge part of my life.And a part-time business, as you can see.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Sarah said lightly.“I’ll keep on my guard around Simon.I wouldn’t want to form an addiction.”Though as she said it, she glanced up at Simon again, at his easy grin, and realized Art’s warning had come too late.She was already addicted.
“Can we get our faces painted?”Sally asked, interrupting them.
Sarah dropped her gaze to Sally and Riley, and stepped back to make room for them.
“Can we, Mom?”asked Riley pointing to a small line up a few stalls down.
