Page 2 of Made For You
“Not today, Mrs. Hensen,” I replied, taking in her pinched frown. “But I do have some fresh eggplants and peaches. Let me show you.” I directed her toward the purple and orange display.
Beside me, my best friend, Franny, started giggling as the customer picked up and stroked the largest of the eggplants, inspecting it from all angles. Unsatisfied, Mrs. Hensen reached for another that was stockier and not so long.
“Hmm…,” she murmured, and I had to nudge Franny in the belly with my elbow to keep her from snickering further. Seeming happy with her new choice, Mrs. Hensen set down the first eggplant and moved on to the peaches.
Her wrinkled fingers slid across the velvety skin of the fruit as she raised it close to her face.
“How juicy are these?” she asked, and I had to bump Franny with my foot when she cackled again. Luckily, she covered it with a cough. “I really enjoy making peach pie, so I need them to have just the right amount of moistness.”
“Well, how about we cut one open and find out?” I suggested as I tugged my pocketknife from the back of my pants. A Girl Scout never forgot to carry one.
Prying a fresh peach from the batch, I carved into the skin and exposed the inside. With a quick twist of my wrist, I removed the pit, sliced off a small sliver of the fruit, and held it out for Mrs. Hensen. She eagerly accepted the offering, then asked to hold the peach.
Franny turned her back to the customer and covered her face with her hands as her shoulders shook. I immediately bit my lip to hold back my own laughter as Mrs. Hensen moaned while she savored the juicy bite. What was worse was she held the eggplant and peach up at eye level. I felt like I was sitting in middle school Sex Education again.
“Yes, this will do fine. Just fine indeed.”
Trying my hardest to keep a straight face, I packaged up the six peaches and the single eggplant she selected. I had zero desire to know what she planned to do with that vegetable. She’d been widowed for years, and I always imagined fruit play was something people made up. But I guessed people had to get their kicks where they could.
Holding out the plastic bag, I exchanged it for her cash and thanked her for the purchase. “You have agreatday, Mrs. Hensen.”
“You as well, dear.”
I waited until she was out of earshot before turning back to Franny. “Oh my gosh, why did you have to do that? I could barely hold it together.”
My best friend since kindergarten had the decency to look chastised. “I’m sorry. She just always does the most innocent things… provocatively. Without fail.”
“I know.”
“Seriously. It’s been years. And month after month, I expect a normal conversation with Mrs. Hensen, but it never comes. I swear she gets naughtier every time I come to help.”
“I guess it’s one way to keep her mind sharp. She always did love those romance novels. Remember when we saw her reading one in church?”
“Yes! I thought Father Santos was going to have a heart attack.”
Shrugging, I said, “Itwasa good book. I couldn’t put it down either,” then went back to restocking the display.
“You read it?”
“You seem surprised. I enjoy reading romance novels, but no one in the book club wants to vote for them.”
“I’ve known you forever, and I had no idea you enjoyed reading those kinds of books.”
“Well, it’s better to fall in love with a fictional boyfriend than with the jerks I’ve dated.”
“Too true.”
Our conversation died when another regular customer showed up at the booth. Instead of payment, we bartered with a lot of the farmers in town. An exchange of jam for some fruit. Flour for vegetables. It worked well for us, since the stand itself wasn’t our livelihood. My parents had their corn, wheat, and soybean fields, and my siblings had their own endeavors, all of them doing well for themselves.
My eldest sister, Autumn, ran a successful bed-and-breakfast with her husband, Colton Crawford. He was a retired hockey player who was now a television host for a cooking show and sometimes made appearances on sports shows. Alex wasnext in line, and she met the love of her life, Nate Sullivan, on a one-night stand two years ago. He showed up at the bed-and-breakfast last summer while she was helping there, and the rest was history. He had these two perfect little girls, Molly and Eloise, who had all of us Easterlys wrapped around their fingers.
Together, most of the siblings helped run The Easterly Event Venue—a pet project of Autumn’s. We were mostly silent partners, but the venue did excellent. It was booked solid for the next two years, except for a few dates here and there. I helped when I could in the summer, but during the school year, I was devoted to my students. Even more so now that I changed from teaching first grade to eleventh.
“So, when do you fly out?” Franny asked after the marketplace began to die down. It was closing in on noon, and the stands started packing up.
“Andrew is taking me to the airport in Nashville tomorrow at nine. My flight leaves at noon.”
“I can’t believe I can’t go with you to the conferenceagain. Last year, it was a stomach bug. This time—”
