I must react, because she laughs, holding a hand over her chest. Her hands are older than the rest of her.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s a bad line.”
“No,” I say, “it’s funny.”
“I’m Rose,” she says. “I sell at Bakery on Main as well. Are you from around here?”
“I just moved.”
“Oh,” she says. “Welcome!”
“Thank you,” I say. “I’m Annie.”
“Yes,” she says. “Sophie mentioned you.”
“You know Sophie?”
She puts her sunglasses back on. Then she says, “Everyone knows Sophie.”
“I’m supposed to meet her for coffee,” I say.
“She’ll be around here somewhere. Look for the flowers.”
“Flowers?”
“You’ll see,” she says. She smiles, but it’s weak and fleeting. There’s a hint of tension in her face, in her jaw, like she’s clenching her teeth.
“Well, Rose, thank you for the jam,” I say. “I’m excited to try it.”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” she says. “Be sure to tell Sophie I say hello. Tell her I gave you some jam.”
“I will.”
I turn to walk away and almost trip over a little girl in a white dress. Her hair is in intricate braids. She looks up at me, and she’s so cute my body wilts.
“Excuse me,” she says. She’s holding a daisy.
“That’s a pretty flower,” I tell her. “Where’d you get it?”
“Miss Sophie,” she says. She turns around and points, then pivots and skips off past me.
“Convenient,” I say to myself. The universe is leading me to Sophie, leaving me bread crumbs.
I walk down the row of tents and look in both directions.
“Annie!”
Sophie is walking toward me. She’s on a slight hill, and the sun is perched directly above her, like it’s her own personal sun. She’s wearing another long black dress. This one is flowy with dramatic bell sleeves. It’s cinched at her impossibly small waist with a silver chain belt. She carries a bouquet of pale daisies and baby’s breath.
“I’m so happy you came,” she says. “Come, pet. Let’s get you some coffee.”
She takes my hand and begins leading me somewhere. I don’t care where.
“How’s your morning so far?” she asks.
“Good,” I say. “Everyone is really nice here.”
“Ah, yes. That’s because we kill anyone who isn’t nice.” She looks back at me, wearing a smirk like a mink coat. “Don’t worry. It’s very humane.”
“Oh, good,” I say. “I was worried about that.”
She laughs her sweet, musical laugh.
“Here,” she says, stopping in front of a tent. Inside, a tall, handsome man with short silver hair wears an apron and froths milk. Next to him is a much younger version. The kid must be about thirteen or fourteen. He wears some kind of “invisible” braces; I can see the plastic over his teeth as he smiles.
“Good morning, Sophie,” he says, bowing his head to her. Is she royalty? I honestly wouldn’t be surprised.
Even if she isn’t, technically speaking, I think being that gorgeous and owning the only liquor store in town grants her sovereignty.
“Morning, Erik,” she says. “This is my new friend, Annie. She just moved here.”
“Hi, Annie,” he says. He’s very Tiger Beat, very CW. Striking blue eyes, good hair. He and the older guy, who I assume is his father, wear matching red flannels.
“Sophie,” the man says, “the usual?”
“No, Oskar,” she says. “Make us something special. Something festive. I want to impress Annie.”
“All right,” he says. He looks over at us. He’s got the same blue eyes as Erik, but his are attached to deep crow’s-feet. I bet he smells like coffee grounds and firewood and is a good dad. He and his son work together, passing beans and cups and cartons of milk like it’s a choreographed dance.
He’s attractive, but I’m not attracted to him. I want him to adopt me. Teach me how to make a solid cappuccino and tell me he’s proud of me.
While I’m distracted by my daddy issues, Sophie tucks a daisy behind my ear.
“I don’t know yet,” she says, “if daisies are your flower.”
She slides her bouquet into an empty mason jar resting on the ledge in front of us. I think it’s meant for tips.