When we were boys, Jacob would take me every other week to get a snow cone from the ice cream stall. Mother would always scold him for spoiling me, arguing that my teeth would rot from all the sugar.
A small smile creeps onto my lips before I force it away.
I don’t deserve happy memories.
It’s surprisingly crowded. People laugh, chatter, and haggle, a cacophony of lively voices filling the space. Some faces I recognize—like grumpy Farmer Charlie with his pile of fresh vegetables—while others I don’t.
I stroll down the narrow aisles, peeking at knickknacks here and there. There’s colorful handmade jewelry, homemade sea-salt caramel fudge, hand-carved wood bowls made from local pines, locally sourced vegetables, fruits, jams, and juices—the usual shit you’d find at a farmer’s market. I’m more interested in window shopping than anything else, in wasting some time.
There’s very little here that interests me.
That’s when I spot her out of the corner of my eye.
Eve’s got a puffy winter coat on that’s a size too big and completely hides her beautiful figure beneath. Her long black hair is down, locks curling gently over her shoulders. Her pink knitted mittens match her pink knitted beanie and fringed scarf, which leads me to assume that they were all handmade for her. She’s in a pair of dark blue skinny jeans that accentuate her toned ass and wonderfully long legs.
She’s so fucking beautiful. I seriously don’t get it. How is it possible for someone like her to exist? I’m almost thankful she’s hidden away in Haven. If Eve ever went to a bigger city, she’d probably be snapped up in an instant by a guy who doesn’t deserve her.
I approach slowly, observing Eve interacting with those around her.
She looks at everything with a refreshing amazement. She smiles at everyone she talks to.
Gorgeous.
Clinging to her arm is a Chinese woman. She’s dressed a little light, which might explain why she holds Eve so close, likely for warmth. Her dark black hair has streaks of white and gray throughout, dry strands pulled back into a little bun. The woman stands a few inches shorter than Eve, her shoulders a bit hunched from years of improper posture.
If I have to venture a guess, I’d say she’s around Mother’s age. Her face is weary, though, which makes her appear much older. There are dark circles beneath her eyes and fine wrinkles all over her face. Despite the obvious exhaustion that plagues her, there’s a kindness to the woman’s demeanor—something loving and warm.
Miranda Lee.
I recognize her fondly. She used to work as one of the housekeepers in our home. If not for her, I never would have met Eve in the first place.
I draw closer and hear the woman speaking to Eve in what I assume is Mandarin. It could very well be Cantonese, though.
I have no idea. I’m a doctor, not a linguist.
Eve turns to the woman behind the stall and translates. They look to be bartering over a tiny box of grapes. “Do you think you can lower the price a bit? She says these don’t seem as fresh.”
The woman behind the counter shakes her head and crosses her chubby arms. She’s an angry little thing with fat cheeks and a triple chin. The sweater she’s wearing, which has the vendor’s logo printed onto it, fails to completely cover her rolls. Her hair is pulled up into a greasy high ponytail that’s patchy in places, exposing her scalp where her hair is thinning.
“Are you kidding?” the vendor huffs. “It’s thirty bucks for the whole crate, or you can try your luck elsewhere.”
Mrs. Lee shakes her head. “Too expensive,” she says, a heavy accent dragging at her words. “I give twenty only.”
“Twenty-seven is as low as I can go. I have to eat too, you know.”
I step forward and pull out two twenties from my wallet. “I’ll cover it. Keep the change.”
Eve takes a step back in surprise. “Nate? What are you doing here?”
I try not to laugh at how adorably red her face turns. “Just out for a walk. You don’t look very happy to see me.”
Mrs. Lee grabs my hands and smiles wide. “Thank you, thank you. You such good boy. Please, I pay you back.”
I shake my head and give the back of her hand a soft pat. “Don’t worry about it, Mrs. Lee.”
She sticks up her index finger and points at me, her eyes widening in realization. “Oh, you—Mrs. Winthrop’s son!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Mrs. Lee reaches up and pinches my cheek. I’d normally never let someone treat me so casually, but I know she’s harmless. Plus, I’m really enjoying how embarrassed Eve looks.
“You grow up so handsome! I remember you this small.” She holds her hand out to the level of her hip before turning to Eve. “Such nice man. Find one like him, okay? Make sure has good job so he can take care of you.”