“And you.” A bit of the weight lifted. She could do this.
Bea removed the smelly box from the counter, and the bell gave a tinny clank as the women left. The morning passed with snatches of gossip from the other market vendors who stopped in for their usual morning pastries before the public opening of the market.So-and-so’s daughter is pregnant. Did you hear the apartment on Via Delmari caughtfire last night? Child playing with the brazier. The Urban Guards got it put out and no one died.But news of the emperor’s edict outlawing all marriages prevailed over the normal gossip. Iris wasn’t sure why she felt her stomach sink. Edict or not, she was well past the age when most girls married, and even if her age did not disqualify her, her blindness certainly did. Still, it was yet one more thing stolen from her.
The temperature rose with the sun. Epimandos left to make deliveries and the gossip lessened as the shoppers increased. Some were less than thrilled to find Paulina out and a new girl in her place. When some discovered Iris’s blindness, they were gracious and overly helpful.
Others were not.
“Where’s my change?”
Iris handed the customer his honey pistachio pastry as her heart started an anxious thrum.
He’d given her the exact amount. She was sure of it and told him so.
“You owe me three sestertii. Don’t play stupid with me, girl.”
Iris’s face went hot. “I—I’m not stupid, sir.”
“Then give me my change, or I won’t be back!”
“She doesn’t owe you anything and you know it.”
This voice sounded familiar, but Iris couldn’t place it. After a tense pause, the man left. If footsteps could sound sulky, his certainly did.
“Thank you, sir,” Iris said. She took a steadying breath. “What can I get for you?”
“Hello,” he said. “We met at the charm seller’s booth. I didn’t know you worked here.”
Recognition flooded her. “Valentine.”
She heard a smile in his voice as he sighed. “If you insist. I prefer Valens or Val.”
Iris tilted her head, considering. “I don’t,” she said with what she hoped was an impish grin. “Valentine suits you.”
He laughed. “Fine. I’ll be Valentine if you like.”
“Thank you.” She faltered and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I mean, for what you did. Just now.”
The quiet of the shop signaled Valentine as the sole customer.
“Have you worked here long?” Fabric rustled against wood as he leaned against the counter.
She slid a hand over the edge, brushing crumbs away. “Six years.”
“Six years?” he repeated. “I’m in here nearly every morning. I’ve never seen you. I would have remembered.”
She felt her face grow warm. “I’m usually in the back.”
A beat of silence. She shifted. “Can I get you anything?”
“I usually get a raisin pastry, but—”
“We’re out. You’re too late.” She’d never been sorrier to sell out of pastries.
“That’s usually my problem.” He chuckled. “What else do you recommend?”
“The dried cherry and pistachio ones aren’t bad. They’re no raisin pastry, of course, but—”
“I’ll do that then.”
