“You want to come with me today?”
About once a month, my mom went to different outdoor craft fairs or flea markets where she sold her creations. “How far away?” I asked.
“This one’s in town. The Fall Fest. You’d make twenty percent.”
That was her draw for us to go help—twenty percent of the profits. It seemed like a good deal, unless she only earned fifty bucks, which wasn’t unheard of. Then our take for an entire day’s work was ten dollars. But sometimes she’d earn three hundred dollars and I could walk away with sixty dollars in my pocket. It was a gamble. One I was willing to take because I didn’t only go for the money incentive.
I went for the people-watching. People-watching inspired me, and I could use some inspiration. Ever since scribbling down a couple of great lines while listening to The Crooked Brookes the other night, I couldn’t conjure up any more good ideas. The newspaper clipping taunted me from the wall next to my bed. It reminded me that I had less than two months to write an entire song—music, lyrics, everything. And I’d barely completed a few lines.
“Yeah, I’ll go,” I said, finally getting up.
Mom nodded. “We leave in thirty minutes.”
The kettle corn cart was closer to our booth than normal and the sweet smell in the air almost made up for what I’d discovered upon arriving at the Fall Fest. In the booth right next to ours was Cade Jennings. His father owned a very successful insurance company and they were giving out quotes today right in the middle of all the craft booths.
I scowled. Wasn’t there a different section for that kind of thing?
My mom was unloading her trays onto the table and I was trying to think of any excuse to leave this booth. “Should I go get us drinks?” I asked.
“I brought some water bottles.” She pointed to a bag under the table.
“Snacks?”
“Are you hungry already?”
It was nine in the morning and we’d eaten breakfast before we left. It was a valid question. “No, I guess not.”
“There’s another case of rings below. Why don’t you put them out?”
“Okay.” I pulled up the tablecloth and slid out the boxes. “How come we aren’t selling any of dad’s pieces today?” I meant his furniture pieces; Dad’s furniture was really nice, even nicer than the necklaces he made that he tried to pretend were better than Mom’s.
“He’s working on a contracted job—some kitchen cabinets for a house up in Scottsdale.”
“Oh, that’s good.” Contracted jobs were steadier pay and better money.
I glanced to our right. Cade hadn’t seen me yet. Or at least I assumed he hadn’t, by the lack of rude comments. He was unloading some sort of flyers into a plastic stand. I’d never seen him dressed up before. He was wearing slacks, a buttondown, and even had a tie on. I felt more shabby than normal in my homemade short floral skirt and denim vest. I would not try to hide half my outfit by sitting down, even though I was very tempted to do just that. I did not care what Cade thought of me.
A man who looked nothing like Cade walked up to the front of his booth holding two lidded cups. He handed one to Cade.
Maybe Cade took after his mother. Or this man was his father’s business partner. He mumbled something to Cade, who then dumped the flyers he had just arranged out onto the table and refilled the plastic stand with different ones.
My mom began discussing the potential crowd today with the lady to our left. Cade met my eyes then, like he knew I’d been staring all along and a slow smile spread over his lips.
“Are you taking notes?” he asked me. “This is what success looks like.” His eyes swept over the jewelry on my table, pausing on the tray with all the feathered necklaces. He raised his eyebrows. “You’ll probably need more than notes.”
I pretended to write on a pad of paper. “First step, dress like a forty-year-old man. Second step, treat people badly. Third, act like the world revolves around me. Did I miss any?”
Cade smirked. “Actually, you missed quite a few. Don’t pretend like you know everything, don’t write and walk at the same time, and think about other people every once in a while.”
“What? Me think about other people? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“No hidden meaning there.”
I narrowed my eyes, about to say something I probably shouldn’t have, when my mom placed a hand on my shoulder. “Do you go to school with that boy?” she asked me. “How fun.” Then, much to my horror, she called out, “Hi. Nice to meet you.”
Cade brought out a smile that might’ve looked sincere to my mom, but actually was completely mocking her.
“Hi, booth neighbor,” he said, and my mom laughed like that was some super witty line.
“What a cutie,” my mom said under her breath. “Do you know my daughter?” This she said at a volume he could hear. I cringed.
Cade met my eyes, and a playful sparkle lit his up. “I do. We go to school together.”
“That’s great. If it’s slow today, you two won’t be so bored now.”
“Lily definitely keeps things interesting,” Cade said.
“We feel the same way,” my mom said as if he hadn’t just insulted me.
Today was going to be awful.
The day wasn’t going as badly as I originally anticipated. Cade minded his own business and I did mine. And now, he wasn’t even in his booth. He’d left about an hour ago and hadn’t returned. Maybe Isabel was right. Maybe I did start things more often than I realized.