Page 20 of The Funnel to You

“Absolutely. It’s been amazing working with her, and Matt too,” I quickly add, making sure I am making eye contact with everyone. His dad is looking at me like he’s trying to figure me out and I honestly don’t know what to do with that. Matt nudges him a bit and then his dad steps forward.

“Nice to meet you, Sasha.” He extends his hand and I shake it. “Is this your first week at the market?”

“Yes! I am surprised I haven’t been here before, and honestly have no clue how we got selected to have a table here, but I’m hoping we get enough good feedback that this becomes a regular thing. And I found burritos,” I say as I hold up the bag, “do you and your wife want one? I got plenty!” I am so awkward and I know it. This man is not breaking eye contact and I don’t know what to do with it. I make a quick glance at Matt and Ashley signaling for some help just as they both burst out laughing. “Okay, whatever the joke was, I apparently missed it. Do I get to be clued in yet?”

Ashley comes over and puts her arm around my shoulder. “Dad likes to make people uncomfortable with borderline inappropriate eye contact. He’s been doing it for at least ten years and it’s a great way to see who wants to maintain a conversation and who scares easily. I think you passed.” She looks over her shoulder to her dad who simply gives her one nod of his head. Okay then, guess I passed that test.

“So, can we eat now?”

The day flies by. By the end of it, I’m sweaty and sore and so insanely happy, but completely emotionally drained. My bag is filled with business cards and notes from other businesses and creators. My phone has so many texts to follow up with. And my calendar has five new coffee chats booked over the next two weeks with local businesses wanting to talk about what a collaboration with a makeup influencer may look like – one of which is a local spa! My heart is so full right now, and even if I don’t get invited back, today was amazing.

“Is this the last of the boxes that need to be brought to the car?” Matt asks as he comes back from his last trip to the car with the signs and table.

“Yeah, that’s it. I have everything else in my bag. I am so glad we don’t have to deal with a bunch of product on top of all of this,” I fall into stride next to him as we head to the parking lot where the other vendors are doing the same.

“I think it went really well, and maybe one day you’ll have your own products to show at something like this,” he sets the box in the trunk and then latches it closed before leaning on the trunk to look back at me. We aren’t uncomfortably close, but closer than usual when we talk in person.

“I don’t know about that, that feels like a completely different undertaking than talking about makeup or connecting with business owners,” the thought honestly freaks me out. There is so much that goes into product development. Sourcing and manufacturing and packaging and fulfillment and social media – plus consistently coming out with new products that will fit the target demographic.

“It’s definitely not something you have to figure out right now, but maybe one day,” he smiles at me gently then takes the bag from my hands to place in the backseat of my car. “Do you have plans for the rest of your night?”

“Um, I don’t think so. Probably just home for a shower, nap, and then ordering in something. I do not want to cook tonight,” I chuckle softly at that. Even the thought of a hot shower right now is unpleasant – maybe a cool one would be a better choice. God, I hope I didn’t burn today. I hate sunburn, but I think I forgot to reapply as often as I usually do.

“You should come over to my parent’s house with us. We usually do a family dinner on Saturday nights after the market so mom can use the new produce and dad grills out.”

“Would that be okay? I don’t want to intrude on your family time, but that sounds amazing,” I open my driver side door and lean in to start the car so it can begin cooling off.

“Absolutely, my mom actually texted me when she left earlier to remind me to invite you, open invitation.”

“Yeah, okay. Can I run home to shower first and then meet you there?”

“You got it. I’ll text you the address.”

“Perfect, see you soon.” I get in the car and take a moment to feel the AC on my skin.

It isn’t long before I’m parking in the driveway next to Matt’s car and making my way into the house. Matt’s mom opens the door before I even have a chance to decide if I’m going to knock or ring the doorbell.

“How can I help, Mrs. Carter?” I ask as we make our way into the kitchen and I wash my hands in the sink. It’s one of those really nice brushed stainless-steel deep farmhouse ones with a beautiful pulldown matching faucet. The countertops are a white and grey quartz that compliment the slate blue cabinets and light grey backsplash. I may work in hardware, but I love a good kitchen design. “This kitchen is absolutely stunning!” I tell her as I come over to the counter she is working on.

“Thank you so much. We redid it a couple of years ago and I am still in love with how it turned out. So glad we went with the classic stainless steel everything even though they tried to sell me on black hardware and sink. It would have looked awful with the blue.”

“I completely agree. When I’m not doing makeup, I’m living at Home Depot, so this kitchen definitely makes me happy.”

“That’s right,” she nods slightly like she’s reminding herself of a conversation, “my kids told me that. And, on that note, you are not allowed to call me Mrs. Carter. You may call me ‘Momma’ or ‘Martha’ but none of that Mrs. stuff allowed, capiche?” She looks at me with such a stern expression, I get the feeling that I did something wrong.

“Oh, absolutely, I can do that, Martha. Is there something that I can help with in here?” I need to get busy with my hands or I am going to continue overanalyzing my interactions with her up until right now.

She puts me to work chopping up tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, and garlic for a salad and then moves on to slicing the veggies for the grill. The fresh zucchini looks amazing and I can’t wait to see what she does with it. We talk for the next fifteen minutes or so about their shopping habits at the market, their next home improvement project, and Ashley going back to college. Just as we hit that topic, Ashley comes downstairs to join us. As soon as she notices what we are talking about, she visibly stiffens a bit.

“I’m not ready to go back.” She admits quietly as she settles onto one of the stools at the island and picks up some sliced cucumbers to munch on. “This summer has been amazing and we aren’t even halfway done with it yet. I need to connect with my advisor soon to finalize my classes for the fall semester.”

“You get to stay home while going to classes, right?” I ask her, trying to get her talking about it a bit. Every time college has come up with us in the past, she has strategically changed the subject or brought it back to me. I don’t know what she isn’t wanting to talk about, but I want to know more about her, so I try to give her an opportunity to open up to me if she wants to take it.

“Yeah. I had been debating staying on campus this year, but it’s not a far drive and I save money staying at home.”

“And it keeps you out of trouble too.” Her mom pipes up.

“I don’t get in trouble, mom. I’m a perfect angel, remember? Matt is the one you have to worry about.” She says that last statement with a smirk at me and I wonder how I’m supposed to take that comment.

---