Finding Love at the Farmer's Market Read online

  FINDING LOVE AT THE FARMER’S MARKET

  FINDING LOVE IN SPECIAL PLACES, BOOK 7

  STACY EATON

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Finding Love in Special Places

  About the Author

  Also by Stacy Eaton

  CHAPTER ONE

  SANDI

  “Sandi, you have no idea how much I appreciate this.” Maggie, my best friend, gushed as I collected the keys to her shop from the hook by the door. “You seriously are a lifesaver.”

  “Maggie, you know I will do anything for you. I’m glad that I could come back to town and help.”

  “Not that I’m happy that you got divorced, although I always knew Bill wasn’t good enough for you. However, I am glad you are divorced.” She grinned at me, and I tried to focus on her bright-brown eyes, not the paleness of her cheeks or the dark circles under her eyes. She looked even more tired today than when I arrived a week ago.

  I chuckled. “I don’t know what you didn’t like about Bill. He was a nice guy.”

  “Ha! He was a jerk. His good looks and smooth demeanor blinded you. You had horse blinders on when it came to him.”

  “Okay, we can agree to disagree. I’ll see you later. Get some rest. You look tired,” I told Maggie and then waved goodbye as I let myself out of her house by way of the side door.

  When Bill and I decided to get divorced, I hadn’t planned on coming back here, but two weeks after my divorce was finalized, Maggie called and said she had uterine cancer, and the prognosis wasn’t good. That alone would have brought me back, but Maggie needed a favor. She wanted to know if I could take care of her bakery while she was fighting this horrible disease.

  I didn’t have a lot of experience baking, and I didn’t know all that much about running a business, but I would do anything to help her out. Maggie had told me that the bakery pretty much ran itself, and for the most part, she was right. While she had a great group of employees, they were all younger. She preferred someone with more experience to oversee the financial and business side of things and didn’t have the energy to do it during her intense treatments.

  The day after I arrived, I jumped in and started learning while enjoying myself and being back in a small town. Maybe while I was back in town, I might find a permanent job and relocate for good.

  I climbed into my car and glanced at the list that Maggie had given me. I needed to stop at the dairy for fresh milk and cream, but I needed to do that after I hit the farmer’s market for her order of jellies and jams.

  I knew that Maggie used some of the jellies in a few of her recipes as fillings. She had also recently added a section in her bakery with unique sauces and seasonings and had two shelves for this incredibly delicious jelly.

  The owner of Honeyhill Farms only came to this farmer’s market twice a month, and Maggie stocked up when they did because the jars flew off the shelves.

  She told me that she had already put her order in but to ask him if he had anything new and, if he did, to grab a few jars to try out with her customers.

  I looked forward to seeing how big the farmer’s market had gotten. When I was young, I used to love to visit the farmer’s market with my mother and older brother. At least once a month, we would walk the rows of booths and fill up the wagon we brought with fresh fruits and vegetables. Plus, Mom always let me pick something special like a new blanket, hair ribbons, or a small room decoration. Shawn always got to pick out something too, but he usually had his attention on the booth at the end where an older man sold comic books.

  It was always a fun day, and I hadn’t been to the farmer’s market since my mother passed when I was twenty. Now eighteen years later, I was excited to visit.

  It was in the exact location it had always been, and I parked in the dirt lot near the field and collected the rolling cart that Maggie said I would need before heading toward the booths.

  When I arrived at the first one, I paused and looked down the row at the colorful array of tents covering the assorted wares for sale. My heart filled with emotion as I took it all in, and I blinked back a bit of nostalgic moisture as I began to walk.

  It was like time had stopped as I glanced around. An older woman I recognized stood near the back of a booth showing a young woman a quilt she had made. My hand flew to my chest. That woman had made the quilt I’d had on my bed for years. Whatever happened to that? I don’t think I remember seeing that since I moved away.

  I passed booths filled with handmade clothing, scarves, and jewelry and then came upon one with stained glass. I paused and let my eyes scan over things quickly, wishing I had more time to browse. I would have to come back next weekend if I could.

  I kept going and finally located the Honeyhill Farms booth. A man was speaking to a customer off to the side with his back to me. I browsed the small jars on display. There were many regular types of jam, like strawberry and peach, but then I blinked and stared at a label that read lilac jam. Who wanted flowers in their jelly? I shifted to the next jar—corn cob.

  I laughed. “Corn cob? Seriously?” I continued to read over the labels, sweet lime, spicy lime, banana, Irish stout, bacon, Kentucky bourbon, and then one called Toes. I frowned and picked it up to read the smaller print to find Toes was tangerine, orange, and elderberries. I wrinkled my nose and heard someone chuckle.

  “It’s better than it sounds.” I stood up straight, lifting my eyes to the man behind the table.

  His bright-blue eyes studied me questioningly, and I skimmed over his face before I shifted back in surprise. I would know this man anywhere. “Aaron?”

  He recognized me a second after I had him. “Sandi Warrenton!” He laughed, and the sound was like a welcoming hug. “Wow!” He came around the counter, and I let my surprised gaze drift over him. Well, hello!

  “Wow is right! You look fantastic, Aaron,” I told him as I took in his handsome face and dark five-o’clock shadow even though it was only eleven in the morning. That alone could have identified him.

  He strode purposely toward me, his eyes drifting to my feet and back up before he held out his arms and pulled me toward his body. For a few seconds, that familiar feeling of comfort surrounded me, and I took a moment to enjoy his embrace.

  “I can’t believe it’s you! Do you live around here?” he asked as he pulled back a few seconds later.

  “No, I’m helping out a friend,” I said and glanced at his table. “But obviously, you do.”

  “Yeah, I moved back about four years ago. My parents were getting older and having issues, and I needed a break from the rat race in the city.”

  “I can understand that. How are your parents doing now?”

  “My father passed about a year after I returned, and Mom went about a month after him. She said she never wanted to live without him, and a few days before Mom died, she said she was ready.”

  I grabbed his forearm. “Aaron, I’m so sorry to hear that they are both gone. I have so many wonderful memories of them.” My heart ached for his loss.

  Aaron and I had grown up on the same street, and he had been best friends with my brother, Shawn. Many times Aaron’s parents watched us when our parents were traveling. The last time I saw Aaron was when I was eighteen, and he was twenty-two. My brother had died in a car accident, and Aaron had attended his funeral service.

  I was almost embarrassed to admit
that I’d had a crush on Aaron when I was twelve until I turned sixteen and my family moved away. When I saw him at my brother’s service, I felt those old childhood feelings rush back, but the timing was completely wrong, and I had shied away from him.

  As I stood staring at him, I wanted to lean in and stare deeper into his blue eyes. Immediately a familiar childish giddy feeling spread through my limbs as I thought about my crush on him and how I had once, and only once, naively thrown myself at him.

  “Thank you. It was rough, but I know they are happy together.” He smiled brightly, and I felt my heart sigh. I had always loved Aaron’s smile.

  “And you decided to stay here and do this then?” I waved a hand toward his booth. Was it destiny that I had come back? That Maggie had sent me to the farmer’s market to pick up jams from Aaron?

  “Well, this was my wife’s business.”

  I unconsciously shuffled back a step, feeling my excitement immediately wane. “Oh, you’re married.”

  He frowned slightly. “I was. I’m a widower now. Beth passed away.”

  “Oh, my gosh.” I reached out and grabbed hold of his arm. “I’m so sorry, Aaron.” I squeezed gently and then let his arm go.

  “Thank you. As I said, it has been a rough few years. But what about you? Married? Kids? Work?”

  “Divorced, no kids, and I’m between jobs right now.”

  Aaron put his hand out to touch my arm as he glanced over my shoulder. The warm weight of his palm seeped into my body, and I almost sighed. “Can you hold on one moment? I need to help this customer.”

  I nodded as he stepped away, realizing that I would probably hold on much longer than a moment if he asked.

  CHAPTER TWO

  AARON

  I didn’t want to be at the farmer’s market today, but I had two orders that customers needed to pick up. I had been tempted to contact both of them and tell them I would drop them off personally later in the week and ditch the booth.

  My old friend, Mr. Guilt, began to harp in my ear. I gave in to his whining and packed my truck with a smaller amount of inventory than I typically did, along with the orders for my customers. That seemed to calm Mr. Guilt into getting off my back—at least for the moment.

  I would attend the market, complete my deliveries, and then hightail it out of there. By the time my standing orders were picked up, I would have sold off most of my regular inventory, and I could hopefully be out of there by around ten.

  I had other things that needed my attention today—not that I wanted to do them either.

  I chatted with customers and gave out a few samples to new people who stopped by the booth. I had just sold three jars to a regular customer when I turned and noticed a woman frowning as she looked at a Toes jar.

  When she lifted her face, I was startled at how familiar she was to me. It only took a few seconds to realize who it was and make my way around the table. I pulled Sandi to my chest and held her. Suddenly, flashes of memories from long ago began to explode in my mind.

  I had known Sandi since she was a little girl. Her brother, Shawn, and I were the best of friends all through school and into college.

  Shawn and I had even gone to the same college and were roommates. Our senior year in college was when I became good friends with Mr. Guilt.

  Shawn had begged me to go with him and his girlfriend Vickie to a concert two hours away, but I told him I had to study for an economics exam. Later that night, I received a frantic call from Vickie stating they were at the hospital after a horrific accident on the highway. Vickie said she would be alright, but Shawn was in bad shape.

  I had to borrow a friend’s car since Shawn had driven mine and raced to the hospital, arriving a few minutes after he was pronounced dead. I was devastated and blamed myself as I sat in the chair in the busy waiting room. Mr. Guilt took a seat within me and decided to keep me company.

  Mr. Guilt told me snidely that I should have gone with them. Shawn hated driving on the highway at night. He never could keep his attention on the road and relied on me to always do the driving—hence the reason he didn’t even have a car. Mr. Guilt admonished me. If you had gone, he would be alive. It’s your fault. His death would always be your fault.

  I was the one to call his parents and deliver the news. It was the least I could do, and as his father sobbed on the phone and his mother cried hysterically in the background, I hung my head as Mr. Guilt patted me on the shoulder, muttering, get used to it, buddy.

  I left the hospital shortly after that and got trashed. I’d never gotten so drunk, but that became the first of many. When I attended his funeral service, I had a flask in my coat pocket. That was to keep the buzz going that I had started two hours before. I had filled it twice to get through that part of the day.

  Even in my alcoholic haze, I had noticed how grown-up Sandi was. The last time I had seen her, she was around sixteen and about to get her braces off. I’d be blind to say that I hadn’t noticed her back then, but she was still a young lady and had a lot of growing up to do.

  However, when I saw her again at Shawn’s funeral, I quickly realized she had completed that task. She had straight teeth and curves in places I had never expected. If my visit had been on different terms, I would have tried to get her alone to find out more about her. However, the grief in her eyes kept me at a distance.

  I left as quickly as I arrived, and that was the last time I had seen or spoken to her—until now.

  I stepped away to assist a customer, hoping that Sandi wouldn’t vanish while I did. Luckily, when I finished the transaction, Sandi was right where I had left her, smiling brightly and waiting patiently. Her blue eyes were bright in the summer light, and her dark-blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail, with little wisps of curly hair hanging around her face.

  When she was younger, and it was humid, her hair would get crazy curly and then frizz. She hated it, but I loved it. I was happy to see that she still had that same wild hair.

  “So, what brought you back to town?” I glanced at my watch, wondering where my second customer was. Perhaps they would show up soon, and I could get rid of my inventory and invite Sandi out for a cup of coffee to catch up.

  “My friend. You know her, Maggie Brooks, the owner of Brooks Bakery.”

  “Maggie!” I laughed. “I was waiting for her to show up.”

  “Sorry, you got me instead.”

  I grinned. “I am not going to complain about that. Don’t get me wrong, I love Maggie, but I am thrilled to see you again, Sandi.”

  “I am too, Aaron. I have thought of you many times over the years.”

  “I’m glad that I’m not the only one.” I winked at her and then had to step away for a few moments to answer a question from another customer. When I turned my attention back to Sandi, I said, “Are you here to get her order?”

  She nodded. “I am.” She paused, biting her bottom lip for a moment. “You might not know this; I know that Maggie hasn’t told a lot of people, but she’s sick.”

  I frowned. “Sick? What kind of sick?”

  I sighed. “The kind where she might not survive.”

  “Oh, crap, Sandi. What’s wrong? Is there anything I can do?”

  She shook her head. “No, just good thoughts. She has cancer, and it’s pretty advanced. She’s always so busy that while she had some symptoms, she didn’t take the time to see the doctor immediately.”

  “Is there any chance she will be able to get rid of it?”

  “I don’t know. Maggie is trying to be positive, but I see the worry behind her eyes. She goes into the hospital tomorrow to have a hysterectomy and remove what they can. It’s uterine cancer, but they said it had already spread much further, and they know it has attached to her bladder. They aren’t sure if they will be able to remove that or not, and who knows what else they will find.”

  “What treatment are they going to give her?”

  “I’m not sure of all the specifics, but she told me it would be very aggressive. It’s he
r only chance of surviving longer than a few months.”

  “Damn, Sandi. I’m so sorry to hear that. Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do to help?”

  “I appreciate that, Aaron, but I think the only thing I need right now is her order and for you to ensure the shelves stay full. The less stress I can put on Maggie, the better.”

  “You got it, Sandi.”

  “She also wanted me to ask if you had anything new.”

  I shook my head. “No, not this month. I have a few recipes I’m going to try for next month, but I don’t have them perfected yet.”

  “Are they more flower jellies?”

  “Hey, I’ll have you know that flower jams are damn popular around here, along with corn cob, bacon, and root beer.”

  “Bacon jam? That’s crazy.” She laughed, and I lost myself for a few seconds as I let the sound fill my mind.

  “You should try it. It might surprise you.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  I glanced back at the boxes behind the table. “You know, Maggie’s order is pretty big this week. How about I deliver it to the bakery when I finish here?”

  “You don’t have to do that, Aaron.” I held up the folded rolling cart. “I brought her handy cart.”

  “Yeah, well, you’d have to make at least two, if not three, trips for what she ordered.”

  “Oh.” She frowned.

  “I’m going to be leaving here soon. I’m almost out of my inventory for today.”

  “Already? It’s not even ten.”

  “Yeah, it went fast today. As soon as I finish here, I can bring it over to the bakery.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I am. Perhaps, when I do, you might have a few minutes to have a cup of coffee with me, and we can catch up a little bit.”