It was Friday. She wasn’t scheduled to work again until Monday. The time until she might see him again stretched out disappointingly.
Until she got home and Harper handed her a jar of brilliant red jam. A small note had been taped to the top of it. “Found it on the front porch after the boys and I got back from taking Murphy for a walk.”
Feeling weak inside, Arabella unfolded the note.
Mariana’s Market. Tomorrow. Six a.m.
He’d included a simple sketched map as well.
She clasped the note to her breast and practically floated up the stairs.
“I know that look,” Harper called after her.
But Arabella didn’t respond. She was hearing another voice in her head.
I think you should know that...
...you’re the only girl for me.
By morning, the bruises under Arabella’s eyes were nearly purple. No amount of cosmetics could disguise them so she gave up trying. She wove her hair into a long braid, pulled on her favorite ball cap that matched her short denim sundress and followed Jay’s map to Mariana’s Market.
She got there well before 6:00 a.m., but even at the early hour, there were already dozens of vehicles parked in the big lot where venders had set up shop. There didn’t seem to be a particular order to the way they were arranged and Jay’s map hadn’t gone beyond how to get to the location of the market itself, so she just began wandering up and down the nearest rows.
She hadn’t really had any expectations about the market. She knew about the jams, of course. Louella’s and Mabel’s. Knew, too, that Petunia had a booth there at least once a month.
She was nevertheless surprised by the variety of wares that were on display.
She bought a hand-sewn scarf to send to her mother, knowing she’d love it, a vintage record album for her father and a jaunty doggie sweater for Murphy. Admittedly, the dog wouldn’t need it for months and months, but how could she resist when “nothing but a hound dog” was embroidered across the back?
Humming under her breath along with the tinny sound of music coming from nowhere in particular, she reached the row of food trucks and spotted Mariana’s right away. She wasn’t all that surprised that there was a line of people standing outside the window and she couldn’t help but wonder how Mariana managed to keep up with all of this as well as help run Roja. But there she was, her bright blond head visible from inside the truck.
Close by the truck a row of tables shaded by green-and-white market umbrellas marched up the center of the aisle. One table was already occupied by a group of old men playing cards.
When she reached the center of the market she noticed an orderliness to the booths that had been absent on the outer rows and after buying a coffee from one of them, she browsed happily among the bins of shining red tomatoes and melons as big as basketballs. She added a basket of deep red cherries to the mesh bag she’d gotten along with the doggie sweater and turned up the next row. A sign for Lou’s Luscious Jams hung at the top of an empty booth straight ahead of her. It was more than a tent. Less than a shack. And the long table in front of it was nearly covered with the jars of jam that Jay was unpacking from a big crate.
She hesitated there because watching him stack his grandmother’s wares felt so very sweet. He was wearing faded blue jeans, a plain blue shirt and an off-white cowboy hat. The only other time she’d seen him wear the hat was the day she’d run into him at the police station.
It was only a few weeks ago but it felt so much longer.
Then, as if he’d sensed her, his head lifted and his green eyes met hers. A slow smile crossed his face.
I think you should know that...
“I want to see your smile for the rest of my days,” she murmured.
He straightened and thumbed his hat back an inch before gesturing at the table. “You just going to stand there talking to yourself, or come and help me?”
She raised her voice. “Maybe I’m enjoying the scenery.” She took a sip of coffee. It really was an excellent cup. Almost as excellent as the view of him.
He craned his head, looking behind him, then along the row of booths. “What scenery?”
She laughed and walked the rest of the way to the booth. “False modesty, Jet-pack.”
He shot her a close look. “Who told you about that?”
“Mariana.”
He seemed to relax. “What else has she been telling you?”
“That you used to steal her lemon tarts.”
“I swept in exchange for every single one,” he defended. He lifted the coffee out of her hand and set it on the table behind him. “I do have a serious question for you, though.”
“I don’t know how to make lemon tarts.”
His dimple deepened and he slid his hands around her waist, linking them behind her. “That’s not the question.”
She couldn’t help leaning into him. “Oh?”
“How’s your nose feel?”
She groaned a little. “Thank you for the reminder. I’d almost forgotten that I look like a raccoon.”
“Yeah, but you’re a cute raccoon. The nose?”
She wrinkled it. “Honestly, it doesn’t even hurt anymore.”
“Good. That means I can do this.” He leaned down and brushed his mouth slowly, gently across hers. “All mornings should start with a kiss from a beautiful raccoon,” he murmured and kissed her again.
And she fell a little more in love with him.
“You going to stand there kissing the lady or set up shop?”
Jay finally lifted his head. “How you doin’, Norman?”
“Fair.” A tall, spare man with gray hair and a tanned face stopped in front of the table and though Arabella recognized him from the day before at the hotel when he’d been with Petunia carrying
