Page 51 of You, Me, & Après-Ski
I suppressed a fiendish grin. “I was pleased to see that Cressida’s sleepover didn’t burn the entire edifice to the ground.”
“Cora and Frankie definitely tried. Those two are going to be a nightmare together,” Val noted.
“Sabrina Spellman and Wednesday Addams. Quite the dynamic duo.”
When Val tossed her head back in a laugh, it echoed in my bones.Christ, I have it bad for this woman.Taking things slow was becoming even more of an impossible task, especially with Val’s imposed deadline limiting our time together to the skiing season.
A few minutes later, Stan dropped us off in front of a wooden building with a sign that said “Market & General Store.” A few photographers clustered on the opposite side of the street, snapping photos of some VIP coming out of a coffee shop, and I ushered Val away.Vultures.
At the market door, an older woman with a smile-creased face and white-gold hair greeted us. “Val! It’s so nice to see you. That jacket looks great on you. Tess’s old one, right? I’d recognize it anywhere.”
Val beamed as she hugged the woman. “Yeah, a gift for opening day. Good to see you too, Mrs. Medford. How’s it going having Frankie and Hugh as your roommates?”
“How many times have I told you? I’m Helene, not Mrs. Medford. And it’s great having those two around. Keeps me and Harris young,” she said, elbowing the jolly man beside her.
“I really appreciate you taking them in,” I said. “These repairs are taking longer than anticipated.”
Helene waved away my thanks. “It’s no trouble. Come on in.”
The room was a cacophony of sounds, smells, and colors pulling my attention in every direction. Merchant stands outlined the large space and a grid of shelves and tables stood in organized aisles, housing all manner of goods: fresh roasted coffee, homemade preserves, muffins and pastries, craft beer and wine, as well as handcrafted wares like vegan leather bags, soaps and candles, photography, artwork. Frankie stood at a jewelry stand that also had—
“Is Frankie selling swords?” I asked, baffled by the dichotomy.
With a chuckle, Val said, “Yeah, she makes them for a local D and D group. The tourists eat that stuff up too.”
I tossed Frankie a wave, impressed at her handiwork. “And I thought I was terrified of her before,” I said, surveying the other stands. “The farmers market is here too?” I couldn’t imagine where they’d have space for it—the room was full to bursting.
“There’s a separate pavilion out back, although it gets tough in the winter when the snow is too high,” Val explained.
“And we’ve had to cut the hours for the whole market recently,” said Helene with a chagrined look. “The building is old and overused. Faulty wiring, and the structure itself can’t hold up to the wear and tear. But there’s nowhere else big enough to house everyone, and we don’t want to cut the number of vendors. Would be great to have a bigger indoor space to accommodate more local farmers too. Maybe one day, if we can raise enough funds.”
“Helene’s in charge of the market, and I help out with shifts on the weekends,” Val explained. “She and Harris also run their own greeting card and stationary business. Helene has a hand for calligraphy.”
From the animated way Val talked about the market and the Medfords, how she spoke to each person who passed and asked about theirkids or dogs, it was clear this place, this town, meant something to her beyond just her weekly shopping trip and a job to pay the bills. These people were a family. I’d never had that sense of community anywhere. As one of the most powerful families in San Francisco—if not the richest in the country—the Kellers were an island unto themselves. Unapproachable. Above the fray. But in that moment, I wanted to be a part of Val’s world, even in just a small way, by helping out the Medfords.
“Do you have a business card?” I asked Helene. “I’m sure Cressida would love to use your services for our wedding invitations.”
At that, Val’s face plummeted and she drifted off to talk to Frankie.
Ah, shit. I’m the biggest idiot on the face of the planet.But like it or not, I was marrying Cressida. I had to start acting like it—especially in public around Val.
Helene passed me her card with a smile. “We’d be happy to help.”
But when I looked at the typeface on her business card, my stomach dropped.The letters. It’s the same typewriter as my pen pal’s letters.Clearing my throat, I played it cool instead of shaking her and demanding answers. “Very distinctive font. I like it.”
Helene beamed at me. “It’s a 1954 Brosette. Belonged to my mother. I only bring select items here to the market, so you should swing by the shop sometime.”
I didn’t know what kind of reaction I’d expected, but it wasn’t an invitation to see more of her incriminating work. “I’ll do that.”
After meeting back up with Val, she remained solemn while my mind raced through my interaction with Helene. Either the woman was a stone-cold bluffer, or she wasn’t my pen pal. But she might know who it was. I wanted to ask Val’s opinion, but now wasn’t the time. As Val chatted with the vendors, her mood lifted, and I didn’t want to drag her into my gloom.
“You really do know everyone in here, don’t you?” I asked a while later as we sat in the small dining area, eating mini huckleberry pies.
Nodding, Val said, “Our yearly family trips were the only times in my life where I got to just be a kid without a care in the world.”
At her words, something struck a hollow discord that vibrated in my chest.I am a complete shithead.Here I was, falling deeper and deeper into whatever this was with Val, all the while planning to turn her sacred place into a crater in the side of the mountain. I’d thought I wanted to be rid of the memories and baggage that came with Hale’s Peak, but now…well, now I wasn’t sure if wiping my emotional slate clean and securing my job was worth the price—losing Val.
But you’re going to lose her anyway. You’re marrying Cressida, and this dalliance has an expiration date.
