He circled back and placed his little collection into Herman’s basket. “Then ask me a question.”
“Why are you here?”
“I told you. I’m here to talk to you.”
I backed down the ladder in a huff. “Do you know how many gentlemen have stopped by to help me pick fruit and talk to me?” I reached the ground and turned to face him. “None, that’s how many.”
“Well, you never brought them tea and desserts in the middle of the afternoon, so there must be something special about me.”
I dumped my load in the basket. “Like what? The fact that you were part of the family I worked for?” I smiled, trying to soften my skepticism, but having to ask. I picked up the rope and yanked Herman into motion.
“What about the fact that we were friends?”
Could we truly reclaim what we had when we were still children? I was happy to see him again, and the idea of renewing our friendship was exciting, but it also seemed improbable. He was nobility, after all. “That was an awfully long time ago, Mr. Baylor.”
“What of it? I’m still much the same. I’m still fascinated by history and celestial navigation. And you don’t seem all that different, either.”
“I don’t know that I’ll ever forgive you for making me so curious about the Cassian Empire. I got sucked into a book about it, and much of it was quite frightful, to be perfectly honest.” I looked him up and down as he strode beside me. “Where is your horse? I know you didn’t walk here.”
He waved his hand in the direction opposite from the house. “He’s tied to one of your lovely trees, far enough from the road that he shouldn’t be seen. So you were captivated by a book? Were you reading it on your own?” He looked anxious for the answer.
My cheeks heated a bit, partly out of pride, partly out of nervousness. “Yes, I can read.”
His next question was hesitant. “Might I hope I had something to do with that?”
“You know I wouldn’t have learned otherwise.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. You were the one who asked me to teach you. I have a feeling you would have found a way.”
I’m sure my skepticism was written all over my face. “I didn’t own a book until after my brother got married.”
“I would have given one to you.”
We arrived at the barn, and he pulled the doors open for me.
“And when would we have ever encountered each other if my neighbor hadn’t threatened you?” I asked as I started laying out pears.
“It would have happened.”
“You have more confidence in chance meetings than I do.”
“Yet, here we are,” he said as he transferred apples into empty barrels. “Do you need to retrieve the ladder?”
“No, I need to go back to where I left it and keep harvesting.”
“Excellent.” He helped me unload the last several pears, then took Herman’s rope and led him from the barn.
Apparently I had a helper for the foreseeable future.
✼ ✼ ✼
It was market day, which meant that Fynn and I were up before dawn, hitching Herman to the wagon and loading all my fruit before driving to the town square.
As Fynn was loading the fifth barrel, he looked at me askance. “You picked most of this yesterday?”
“Yes,” I said, setting my lunch tied in a cloth into the front of the wagon. “What of it?”
“You came in early yesterday.”
“And?”
“And when did you have time to gather this much? It should have taken you hours longer.”
“When is the last time you helped me harvest?”
“I don’t—”
“Exactly, you can’t even remember.” I waved him off. “Sometimes the trees are just more cooperative.”
He grunted and went to grab the last barrel. “Not that cooperative,” he muttered.
I rolled my eyes. He could be as suspicious as he wanted. I wasn’t going to tell him about Rylan.
We finished loading and urged Herman to lead out as we walked beside him. With the heavy load of fruit, we didn’t want to overtax him by sitting in the wagon ourselves.
The walk took over an hour. By the time we arrived, Suzannah was already in our stall, trying to raise the canopy, which she wasn’t quite tall enough to do. Fynn jogged over to help her and had it up in a trice. I pulled out my lunch, the money box, and a couple of stools, leaving Fynn to do the heavy lifting as I chatted with Suzannah and loaded our table with the first round of wares.
Suzannah’s father made candles, and she had taken over the responsibility of selling them several years ago. I was grateful for the chance to visit with her each week, and she had found a unique hobby. At first, she simply sold the candles as they were, but as the weeks and months went by, she started toying with her father’s candles, pulling out a knife to shave away certain parts and make them more interesting to look at. Some were wavy, some she cut into a spiral, and others she created intricate patterns shallow enough that you could only truly appreciate them when burning the candle. Her creations were far less practical, no doubt about it, but she never failed to sell most of her interesting creations for a bit more than she charged for the usual candles.
Fynn had finished unloading the cart and came around to inspect the table as he usually did. I think he did it just to annoy me, as if I didn’t know how to stack fruit on a table.
Today he took his time fingering the carved candles that Suzannah had already set out. “These are cleverly done, Suze.”
“Thank you.”
“They’re getting more intricate. I wonder if people are reluctant to burn them once they’ve brought them home.” He looked up and gave her a smile.
I saw the red creeping up her neck as she looked down with a smile of her own.
“I’d best be on my way,” he said, jumping into the wagon. “Good luck, Kin.”
“It’s Kinley,” I insisted.
He ignored me. “Good day, Suze.” He tapped Herman’s side and wound his way out of the market, which would soon be too full for a wagon to maneuver anywhere.
I studied Suzannah, wondering at the obvious blush that now stained her cheeks. Fynn and I had grown up in the village, right alongside Suzannah and her family, until we’d moved out to our farm. He and she had always acted more like brother and sister than anything.
“Does it bother you that he calls you Suze like you’re still eight years old?”
“It’s a nickname, not an insult,” she said lightly, though she kept her focus on rearranging her candles into the same position they’d been before.
“It feels like an insult when he calls me Kin, especially when I’ve asked him so often not to.”
“That’s because he’s your brother. Everything seems like an insult when it comes from your brother.”
“Hmm.” So Suzannah no longer thought of Fynn in brotherly terms. How very interesting indeed. Perhaps I would need to do something to help Fynn to stop seeing her in a sisterly way.
I let my mind wander with the possibilities of Fynn and Suzannah making a match. I would love to have Suzannah for a sister, and the more I pondered on it, the more I thought how well they would suit.
As the market filled up, I settled into my usual routine of talking with customers, collecting their money and sending them on their way.
I was just finishing refilling the table with apples from the barrels when another customer approached.
“How can I help you?” I asked in my usual way as I looked up.
Rylan stood in front of me, grin in place, cape around his shoulders, ridiculous wide-brimmed hat on his head.
I caught myself before using his first name and instead dipped into a curtsy. “Mr. Baylor.”
“Don’t curtsy, I’m trying to blend in.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You don’t think I could fit in with this crowd?” he asked, looking down at his outfit.
I glanced around, noting the odd looks
being shot his way by several passersby. Most common men wore hats, but Rylan’s was far too . . . dashing to be practical. “Have you seen the number of people staring at you?”
“Yes, but I figured that was due to my devastating good looks.”
“You would have fit in better if you had come later, when the rest of the gentry likes to peruse the market. Only commoners and servants are out at this hour.”
“Duly noted,” he said, looking over the table as if he hadn’t been the one to pick this very fruit with me yesterday.
“Don’t you have kitchen staff to buy your food for you?” I asked.
“Yes, but buying food wasn’t really the objective.” He picked up one of Suzannah’s intricate candles, looking between her and me before gesturing toward Suzannah. “This is yours?”
She dipped her head. “Yes, sir.”
He gave a murmur of approval. “Lovely work.”
“Thank you, sir.”
I reached out and took the candle from his fingers. “If you’re not going to purchase anything, might I ask you to step aside so that others might browse our wares?”
“Oh, of course.” He moved aside, but instead of taking his leave and continuing on his way, he squeezed behind our table into the space that Suzannah and I occupied.
A large feather stuck out of his hat and brushed the canopy. I sighed, rubbing my forehead with my fingers. “Do sit down, Rylan.”
He looked behind him and, seeing the stools that Suzannah and I used when we didn’t have customers, asked, “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to—”
“Sit down.”
He obeyed and looked completely out of place.
I let out a gust of air. “If you’re truly trying to blend in, then take off that ridiculous hat.” I swept it from his head, then tousled his light brown hair so he didn’t look quite so put together. Then I shook my head because he just looked wrong sitting in a market stall, but there was nothing more I could do about it. I turned back to the table but was brought up short by Suzannah’s still-shocked expression.
Right. Introductions. “Rylander, this is my good friend, Suzannah.”
He stood and bowed. “A pleasure.”
“Suzannah, this is Rylander Baylor.”
She dipped a curtsy. “Likewise.”
He sat. Suzannah and I returned our attention to the table, where a young boy was waiting with a coin and a grin as he eyed the apples and pears in turn.
“What will it be, young sir?” I asked.
His eyes kept darting back and forth. “I think . . . maybe . . .”
“You’ve got enough for four pears and two apples. Or three pears and four apples.”
He nodded at the latter suggestion and thrust the coin toward me. I took it and he set his satchel up on the table, which I quickly loaded with his selections, as well as the coin he’d given me. “There you are,” I said, handing it over.
He touched his little hat and said, “Thank you,” before disappearing into the crowd.
“I saw that.”
I turned at Rylan’s words. “Saw what?”
“You put the coin in the bag.”
“Did I? It must have slipped from my fingers.”
“Indeed?” He sounded as if he believed me not a bit.
“She never lets the little ones pay,” Suzannah piped in.
“Suzannah,” I scolded.
She only shrugged. “Well, you don’t.”
“Miss Kinley has a soft spot for the little ones, does she?”
“I’m standing right here. There’s no need to speak of me as if I’m not.” I kept my eyes fixed on the table, embarrassed by the approval so apparent in Rylan’s voice.
“Apologies,” he said, though he sounded far too amused to be truly penitent.
An older man approached, looking over our table. I tried to engage him in conversation, but he waved me off and continued on his way.
“Miss Suzannah, might I purchase one of your plain candles there?” Rylan asked.
“Oh.” She fumbled to pick one up and give it to him, taking the coin he offered in return. Then she stood right next to my side and whispered so he couldn’t hear. “Who in the world is this man, and why is he sitting here?”
I glanced back to be sure that he was focused on the candle he’d been handed, then whispered, “Rylander Baylor. Remember I worked for the Baylors? This is their son, and we became friends while I worked there.”
“Of course I remember you telling me about him, but how do you know him now? Have you been hiding him under a haystack for the past five or six years?”
“I’ll explain later.” Trying to sum up our meeting of a few days before was not something I could do in only a few sentences.
“You’d better,” she said in a singsong voice.
I managed to forget, or at least pretend to forget, that Rylan was sitting behind me as I focused on selling my fruit. This was, after all, my livelihood. Despite my inability to allow kids to pay for their purchases, I really did need to bring home as much money as possible. We all did what we could to ensure that we did not fall into perilous circumstances.
“Morning, Kinley.”
My heart did a little skip when I glanced up to see Zander standing before my table, a tentative smile on his face. “Zander,” my voice squeaked, and I cleared my throat. “Good morning.” I realized I was wringing my hands and forced them to my sides. “Are you having a . . . successful . . . day at market?” I wanted to wince at my blundering, but resisted.
“Yes, I’ve found most of what I need.” He shifted, then gestured toward my piles of fruit. “Have you been selling much?”
“The usual amount, I suppose.” Why could I never think of anything interesting to say around him?
“Glad to hear it.” He looked behind me and a shadow passed over his features. “Who is this?”
I looked behind me and saw he was referring to Rylan. Right . . . how to explain him. “Oh, that is just a . . . distant relation. He hurt his leg and needed a place to sit.” Glory be, what was wrong with me?
Rylan’s expression remained entirely passive, neither confirming nor denying my story.
“Oh. That’s very kind of you.” Zander held my gaze and smiled just a bit more. “You’re always doing kind things for others.”
“It’s nothing,” I insisted as I dropped my face to hide the heat in my cheeks. I wasn’t certain whether the blush was from lying or from his compliment. Probably both. Time for a change in subject. “What other items are you looking for today?” A woven basket with straps attached hung over one shoulder and across his broad chest. No doubt it carried his purchases.
“Just some grease and other items for the smithy.”
“Well, I wish you the best in finding them, and . . . ” And what? What else could I say to him? Something alluring or witty.
“Thank you, and I hope that the rest of your selling goes smoothly.”
“Thank you. Good day, Zander.”
“And you, Miss Kinley.” He backed away a few steps, then turned and strode through the crowd.
I hung my head and let out a disgusted sigh.
Suzannah stepped up beside me. “Gracious, Kinley. That was . . . ”
I held up a hand to stay her from finding whatever unflattering descriptor she was searching for. “I know.” I turned away from the crowded market and sank down onto the stool beside Rylan, dropping my head into my hands.
I felt Rylan shift closer. “You’re terrible at flirting,” he said close to my ear.
“I know,” I moaned.
“If it makes you feel any better, he was just as bad.”
I sat up and looked at him. “Do you think he was trying to flirt with me?”
“Yes. And he’s completely inept.”
My face fell into a pout. “He’s just reserved, is all.”
“I’ll have to take your word on that. But what’s your excuse?”
My chin pulled in. “Excuse for what?”
&n
bsp; “For being terrible at flirting with him. I know very well that you are not reserved. You nearly always have the upper hand in our conversations.”
I picked at my skirt. “He makes me nervous.”
His brow furrowed. “And I . . . don’t?”
I tipped my head to the side, considering. “No, I suppose not.”
“Ah,” he said, returning his focus to the candle he was carving.
I studied him, wondering why he had stopped teasing me. I was on the verge of asking why he was so serious when a customer approached, making me realize that I had better get back to work. My fruit wasn’t going to sell itself.
Returning to the task at hand helped me shake off the humiliation from my encounter with Zander. There was an energy and rhythm to the chaos of market that I enjoyed, and the rest of the morning passed without incident.
I was thinking about pulling out my lunch when Rylan came to stand between Suzannah and me, holding up the candle he had purchased. It was now carved with designs, somewhat like the ones Suzannah sold, but much rougher.
“I hope you don’t plan on putting me out of business,” she said in a surprisingly teasing tone.
“Not at all.” He seemed a bit embarrassed by the thought. “I was only intrigued and wanted to try it. But I’m afraid it is too narrow in some parts and might break if not handled with the gentlest fingers.”
“I suppose you’ll have to keep it and ensure that no harm comes to it,” I suggested.
His brow pinched. “If it survives the ride home.”
“Where is your horse, anyway?”
He nodded his head toward the east end of the square. “With Jeffrey, the blacksmith. And speaking of Apollo, I’m certain he’s missing me terribly. I shall take my leave and let you two alone.” He bowed and grabbed for his hat.
“Oh,” I said, dismay creeping into my voice. “But Gavin and Ella will be stopping by soon. I thought perhaps you would like to meet her.” I also had the odd wish for Rylan to meet my brother. Why that seemed important, I didn’t know.
“Oh.” He ducked his head. “I’m not certain I’m prepared for such an introduction just now. What with my ridiculous hat and whatnot. No need for your brother and the princess to think I am an odd duck upon our first meeting.”
Keeping Kinley Page 5