Jesse walked by her booth in the midafternoon. Noelle was afraid he might stop and talk with her, but he went across the aisle and started chatting with Carlos.
“Dude,” Carlos said. “Have you still not sold anything?”
“You mean besides that hope chest that just got hauled out of here?” Jesse responded.
He’d made one for Noelle all those years ago. She turned her head away from the two, trying to stop the memory, and prayed for a customer.
“Maybe you should make something smaller—like Christmas ornaments,” Carlos joked.
That actually wasn’t a bad idea. Although it would be a waste of Jesse’s skills to do that. She turned toward them. “How about little rocking chairs and chests? For kids?”
Jesse took a step backward while Holly turned toward her, even though she’d been talking to a customer. “Did you just say something? To Jesse?”
Noelle swallowed hard, trying to think of something witty to say. Nothing came, but thankfully Jesse found his voice. “That’s a great idea. In fact, I just finished a rocking chair for Greta. I’ll try to sell it and make her another one.”
With Holly back in the booth, Carlos spent most of his time hanging out with Jesse or running errands for Holly. Getting her food from the kitchen area. A glass of water. Bringing another plastic crate of chocolates from the truck.
By late afternoon, Noelle had sold almost all of the whoopie pies and half-moon pies and most of the creamsticks. She still had five more large pies to sell. When Steve walked by, she handed him a berry one.
“Yours are the best pies,” he said in a whisper as he pulled a ten and a five from his wallet.
She shook her head. “Let me give it to you.”
He grinned. “I insist on paying. My family is going to be ecstatic.” He balanced the pie in one hand and turned his baseball cap around with the other. That seemed to be the sign that he was ready to close up the market for the day.
A half hour later, Noelle crated the remaining three pies, four boxes of creamsticks, and the two half-moon pies that were left. As she worked, Holly’s phone rang. The girl pushed a button, held it up to her ear, and said, “Hi, Mama! How are you?”
Then she listened.
Then she started speaking in Spanish. Finally she said, in English, “I’ll talk to Carlos. TTYS. Love you!”
A stab of jealousy speared Noelle’s heart. If only she had her mother to talk to now. To tell her about Salome not wanting to do Family Christmas. To confide in her about Jesse coming back. To worry with her about Dat’s possible health problems.
Shame filled her. It wasn’t right to be jealous. But there had been so many times she had been. Jealous when Moriah married. Jealous of the girl who dated Jesse. Jealous of so many things. She’d been consumed with it.
Noelle’s heart hurt. Was she going to be that person? One consumed with jealousy? With ill will for others?
Holly hadn’t packed her candles yet. They still sat on the counter—the four purple ones with the white one in the middle. Hope, joy, peace, faith. And Jesus.
Jealousy was the opposite of all of those.
LuAnne was true to her word and coordinated Dat’s care. Paul went over in the mornings, and then after LuAnne had taken her older kids to school, she and the toddler and preschooler spent mornings with Dat. After she fixed his dinner and they’d all eaten, she made sure he was down for a nap and then took the little ones home for theirs.
Midafternoon, Ted came over and sat with Dat, staying until Noelle returned home from the market. She wasn’t sure why Salome and Moriah weren’t taking turns, but she didn’t ask.
Thursday sales at the market were good, but Fridays and Saturdays were even better. And she had repeat customers coming back each day for more. Each day Noelle was nearly out of product and went home to bake more during the evening and late into the night. By Saturday, she was yawning. But it was all worth it when she handed the money over to Salome after Holly and Carlos dropped her off. This time her sister did invite her in.
“You’re doing better,” Salome said as she shuffled through the bills. It was as close to a compliment as she would get from her oldest sister. Noelle didn’t respond.
“Is Moriah around?” she asked instead. “I’m hoping she can help with the baking on Wednesday.”
Salome pursed her lips, and then a rustling down the hall caught Noelle’s attention.
Moriah appeared in her robe.
“Are you ill?” Noelle asked.
“Jah,” Moriah said. “I haven’t felt well for a few days. If I’m feeling better on Wednesday, I’ll come over.”
Dat didn’t feel up to going to church the next morning. Thankful that the appointment with the cardiologist was only two days away, Noelle tried not to worry about him. He had a cough that was new, and he seemed to be short of breath as he walked from the table to his chair. But at least he hadn’t fallen anymore.
In the early afternoon, just before Noelle was ready to walk with Dat down the hall to his room, a knock fell on the door.
Noelle opened it to find Barbara, Ben, Jesse, and Greta on the stoop, bearing soup, bread, and peanut butter spread from church.
“We figured you could use a break, considering everything you’re doing,” Barbara said. Noelle, determined to be hospitable even though it was difficult seeing Jesse, invited them in, took their coats, and then started a pot of coffee as the men, along with Greta, gathered in the living room. Dat perked up at having visitors and insisted he didn’t need a nap after all.
“I have pie,” Noelle said to Barbara.
“Of course you do.” The woman smiled. “The best pie
