“She’s fine,” Jay assured him. “Offered to let me take over this morning so I’d have a chance to impress my girl.”
He spoke lightly, but Arabella’s heart still swelled.
“Women’ll do that to ya,” Norman agreed.
Arabella stuck out her hand. “Arabella Fortune, Mr. ah—”
“Just Norman,” he said and shook her hand with all the enthusiasm of her nephews when they were afraid of getting cooties. “One of those Fortunes, you say.”
Norman’s smile was nonexistent but Arabella managed to keep hers in place. “A Fortune. I just moved here from New York.”
He looked like he thought she ought to have stayed there.
He turned his back on her and gestured at the array of jam jars. “I’ll take five jars.”
Jay bagged up the jars and gave them to Norman in exchange for the cash that Norman passed over.
Norman didn’t spare Arabella so much as a glance when he walked away a minute later.
“Friendly guy,” she murmured under her breath.
“He usually is.” Jay watched the departing man. “According to my grandmother, he’s been having some trouble keeping his medicine straight. Gets forgetful. But he’s still a staple out here at the market. Every weekend. Either playing chess near Mariana’s truck or helping out at Petunia’s flower stand when she’s here.”
“Selling flowers?”
“He’s her dad.”
“Ah. Okay.” The missing dots connected. “Petunia mentioned him when I was working at her shop. No wonder he was helping with the flowers yesterday. Where’s her stand?”
“Doesn’t look like she’s going to be there today.” He pointed down the row. “Her space is empty. It’s next to the yellow tent with the striped awning. That one’s Mabel’s.”
As the minutes had been passing, more and more vendors had been showing up. Rolling up the sides of vinyl tents. Trotting out portable tables. Unloading carts of bric-a-brac and setting out handmade crafts and every other imaginable item. The booth with the striped awning, however, sat empty.
She dumped her purchases and her bag on the square of fake grass covering the dirt ground inside their booth and plucked several jars out of Jay’s box. “You just stack these things around?”
“Yep. On the shelves, too.”
Since Jay had the table itself well in hand, she began adding jars here and there on the milk-crate shelves in what she figured were artful sort of displays. “How is your grandmother?”
“Nursing her aggravation where Mabel’s concerned.”
“I still can’t believe they were brawling over her jam recipe.”
“Tell me about it,” he muttered. “Gran and Mabel go way back.”
“But that’s why you’re here? To work her booth because of the hundred-yard thing?” She knew the judge had ordered both women to keep away from each other by at least that much distance.
“You heard what I told Norm. I’m trying to impress my girl.”
She bobbled the jars and barely managed to catch one before it rolled off the shelf.
“And because my grandmother didn’t want to chance running into Mabel,” he went on humorously.
It was no less than she’d expected, but her balloon of joy over the “my girl” term deflated slightly. “Considering how desolate Mabel’s booth looks, I’m not sure she needed to worry about it. But I guess if one of them doesn’t work, it’s fair for the other one not to as well.”
“Yeah, except Gran’s jams are going to sell, anyway, thanks to us.” He cupped his hand behind her neck. “So why are you looking sad?”
She looked toward the yellow booth again. “Mabel’s booth just looks forlorn to me. Nobody is helping her out like you’re helping your grandmother.”
He smiled and dropped a quick kiss on the tip of her nose.
“What was that for?”
“Because not everyone has a heart as sweet as yours.”
She couldn’t manage to form a word. Not with the way her chest felt all full up and her face felt all stretched in a smile.
She hadn’t finished stacking the shelves when another customer came by the booth, quickly followed by two more. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, the aisles among the booths became more congested with shoppers and the supply of Louella’s jams dwindled.
It wasn’t even close to noon when they were gone completely and Arabella gathered up her purchases and slung the strap of her bag over her shoulder.
“Where do you think you’re going so fast?”
“What else is there to do?” She swept her arm out, encompassing the empty table and shelves. He could say that she had a sweet heart, but working alongside him all morning had been sheer delight. He had a way with people that was entirely captivating. Male, female, young, old. Didn’t matter. They all walked away with smiles on their faces as well as jars of jam in their hands. “Everything’s sold.”
He closed his hands around hers. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean the fun’s over, does it? Come on.” He drew her around the empty table that he pushed back onto the fake turf so that it no longer protruded out into the aisle where the shoppers walked. “You haven’t lived until you’ve had one of Mariana’s fry bread tacos.”
He seemed to take it for granted that she would agree, and since she was more than happy to prolong the pleasure, she did.
Her book bag bounced between them as they wandered through the rest of the market and Jay took it from her to sling over his own shoulder. “This thing gets heavier every time I see you. What’re you doing? Collecting rocks?”
“I told you.” She poked her hand down into the depths and blindly pulled out a binder with a bright orange cover. “My notebooks.” She let it fall back into the bag.
Instead of taking her hand, he dropped his arm around her shoulder and fresh heat flowed through her veins. “How many journals does a girl need?” He angled around a
