Page 7 of Love in Mission City
The little boy pressed a hand to his chest.
My instinct was to step in. To offer to pay. The woman’s jeans were a little worn. The boy’s shoes were a little scuffed. Not so anyone would notice at first glance, but, in comparison to some of the other people here, they weren’t well-off.
I held myself still until, at last, the woman took the offered box. She placed it in a cloth bag, then clutched Henry’s hand in hers.
He flushed a bright red that almost matched his beard.
The little boy tapped his chest, right above his heart.
After a moment, the woman released Henry’s hand. She clasped her son’s hand, and they headed away from me.
Henry pressed his hands to his cheeks, almost as if trying to will away the heat.
Nonchalantly, I moseyed up. “Popcorn?”
He startled, his eyes widening as they caught my gaze. “Uh, thanks. After?”
I glanced at the wall clock and, yeah, the event was scheduled to shut down in about ten minutes. “Perfect.” I gave a curt nod, then headed over to my booth. I put the two popcorn bags on the table and counted the moments until the organizer finished herding the last of the shoppers out the door.
Her announcement that the market had ended was met with a few words of thanks and, at some tables, a flurry of activity.
Henry had only three figurines to box up. He folded the velvet tablecloth, then unplugged the little lamp he’d used, along with the fairy lights, to decorate his booth.
I watched each action.
The big, burly man had huge hands, and yet he worked dexterously to secure everything. Soon, his rolling cart contained everything, and after meeting my gaze, he headed my way.
After he sat in the chair next to me, he accepted the popcorn I handed him.
“We should probably have actual food.”
“This’ll do.” He munched away.
I eyed him surreptitiously.
He ate so delicately. One or two pieces at a time. Not like the shovelling my ex used to do.
Don’t think about him.
Well, unless it put Henry in a better light. Then it’d be okay.
“Oh.” I leaned behind me and procured my last two bottles of cider. I held one out.
Henry nodded.
I handed it to him, and he managed to unscrew the lid while not spilling his popcorn.
Impressive.
He sipped, grinned, and offered me a shy smile. “No wonder you sell out.”
His praise suffused me with pleasure. “Well, most people haven’t even tried it. But yeah, I’m happy with how it turned out.”
After another sip, he grunted and resumed eating.
“You sold almost all your figurines. That’s great.”
Yet another grunt.
