“Whenever,” Julie said, waving her hand. “You know I’ll work around your schedule.”
“Thank you,” Natalie murmured. “How’s Steve doing?”
Julie shrugged. “Super busy,” she said. “They’re still trying to find another doctor for the practice, so he’s booked solid all week. He’s on the golf course right now, which I know he needs, but thankfully, he promised to bring the kids to a movie later so Mom can have a break, too.”
Natalie smiled. “Cooperation and compromise.”
“He’s a good guy,” Julie said. Again, her eyes flashed momentarily to me, then back to Natalie again. “Soooo…How do you two know each other?”
“We’re not here together,” Natalie said. “I just happened to bump into him. He just moved to town and there was an issue at his house. Legal stuff.”
I could hear the discomfort in Natalie’s voice, so I held up my purchase. “I’m here to buy potatoes.”
Julie turned her attention to me. “You just moved here? Where are you from?”
“Most recently, Florida. But I grew up in Virginia.”
“Where in Virginia? I’m originally from Richmond.”
“Alexandria,” I said.
“How do you like it here so far?”
“I like it. But I’m still settling in.”
“You’ll get used to it. There are a lot of great people here,” she said, before focusing on Natalie again. I half listened while Natalie and Julie continued with a bit of additional small talk before their conversation finally wound down. Toward the end, Julie leaned in for another hug.
“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to scoot,” Julie said. “The kids are with my neighbor, and I told her that I wouldn’t be gone long.”
“It was good seeing you.”
“You too. And remember that you can call me anytime. I’ve been thinking about you.”
“Thank you,” Natalie answered.
As Julie wandered off, I noted a trace of weariness in Natalie’s expression.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Natalie said. “It’s fine.”
I waited, but Natalie added nothing else.
“I was hoping to pick up some strawberries,” she finally said in a distracted voice.
“Are they any good?”
“I don’t know,” she said, beginning to come back to me. “This is the first weekend they’re being offered, but last year, they were delicious.”
She moved ahead toward a table filled with strawberries, sandwiched between the table with birdhouses and the one displaying straw dolls. Farther up, I saw Julie the dentist speaking with another young couple; I figured Natalie must have noticed her as well, though she gave no indication. Instead, she sidled up to the table of strawberries. When I came to a stop beside her, Natalie suddenly stood straighter. “Oh, I forgot I needed to get some broccoli, too, before it’s all gone.” She took a step backward. “It was nice chatting with you, Mr. Benson.”
Though she smiled, it was clear she wanted to extricate herself from my presence, the sooner the better. I could feel others’ eyes on us as she continued to back away.
“You too, deputy.”
She turned around, heading back the same way we’d just come, leaving me alone in front of the table. The vendor, a young lady, was making change for another customer, and I wasn’t quite sure what to do. Stay here? Follow her? Following her would probably come across as both irritating and creepy, so I remained at the strawberry table, thinking they resembled the ones I could find in the supermarket, except less ripe. Deciding to support the local farmers, I purchased a container and made my way back slowly through the crowds. From the corner of my eye, I saw Natalie browsing near a stall selling apple butter; there was no broccoli in her basket.
I debated heading home before noting again the beauty of the morning, and decided that a cup of coffee would hit the spot.
Leaving the market, I walked to the Trent River Coffee Company. It was a few blocks away, but given the pleasant weather, it felt good to be out and about. Inside, I listened to customers ahead of me order their half-decaf mocha chai lattes, or whatever it was people ordered these days. When it was my turn, I ordered a black coffee, and the young lady at the counter—sporting an eyebrow piercing and a tattoo of a spider on the back of her hand—looked at me as though I were still living in the 1980s, the decade in which I’d been born.