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“It’s my pleasure. We were told that you were coming by the Foster Foundation and they asked us to give you the royal treatment. This was not a part of the day, I’m ashamed to say. Mildred has been a pain in our collective bottoms for some time now. But we’re more than happy to—several of the booths that are only just opening this season are because of your foundation. It’s wonderful for us to see fresh blood in this type of industry. Thank you, too, for being so generous with your time to come and check things out here at our little place.”
People were snickering then. Mildred, whoever she thought she was, kicked him in the foot again, cocking her head in a way that made him think she still wanted him to leave. Ignoring her for the conversation that was going on with his brother, she finally sat her purse down on the table as if she was claiming it. Again, he disregarded her.
When Mr. Pauly, he’d finally remembered the man’s name, turned to leave, Denver stood up. Under her breath but loud enough for them to hear, Mildred said finally. As if them getting up was something that she had planned.
Turning her back to her, Jack stood up and smiled at thewoman there with two little girls. Asking her if she wanted the table, she looked so relieved that he thought that it was well worth the hostility that he knew he was going to get from Mildred. He even went so far as to help the lady with her packages. Something in one of her bags caught his attention.
“Excuse me, miss.” She smiled up at him, looking at Mildred as if she was waiting for her to cause trouble for them. “Where did you get those bags? The ones that are for reheating food? I have a restaurant that I could use them in I think. Also, I wasn’t aware that you could purchase things here.”
“Oh, no. I didn’t…Is she all right?” He glanced in the direction of Mildred, who was still standing there waiting on the table. Telling the other woman that she was being rude, he asked her again about the bags. “I didn’t buy them. Though he had enough that I think you could. No, he was giving these away.”
After getting the booth number and aisle number, he and his brother walked away. He didn’t want to deal with the overly rude woman anymore, so he didn’t turn when she started cursing at them. Jack felt like he was on a mission, and he was ready to go.
The man, indeed, had a great many of the bags to purchase. He told him that he could take as many as he wanted for a price, and it was Denver who asked him how much he would charge for the lot. Excitedly, the man gave them a price and said he’d even box them up for them. As soon as he paid, he spoke to him about having a logo put on the next ones he purchased.
“Oh, I don’t do that. This isn’t my booth, actually. I’m only helping out a friend of mine who had to bail at the last minute, and if you don’t open, they’ll take away your vendor’s spot. I have more of these at the shop. It was the only thing that I could think of to bring in here.” He laughed sort of nervously. “I’ll gladly sell you what I have in inventory. They are of good quality and clean. I had a restaurant myself but it went under about a year ago.”
“I’m so sorry. I’m just getting mine open in a few weeks.” Carl, the man in the booth, told him good luck. That he’d lost his when his wife had gotten cancer, and he needed to be home with her. “Family. It’s so nice that you were able to stay home with her. I bet she appreciated that more than anything.”
“She did. Thank you for that. She and I were blessed that I could take the time off and be with her. The restaurant, well, son, it just didn’t feel the same without her there any longer, and that’s the main reason that I closed it up. Just didn’t have the heart to go anymore.” They both told Carl how sorry they were again. “You’ve been so nice to me. Other people, sometimes, have more important things to do than to listen to an old man with woes. I’m set to auction off my home and stuff here in about a month. It’ll be the most difficult thing I do besides burying my Hanna.”
While the man composed himself behind his booth, he and Denver talked about the other things that were in the large space. There was service ware that was just plain white without logos. But unlike his, these did match. Mugs, glasses as well as silverware that could be stamped with his logo as well. As he began looking at the things that he could get, napkins and straws included, he loved how professional things looked. Asking Denver what he thought of his idea of using this business in a few years to get his own restaurant stamped on things for his place.
“I don’t want to be a doubting Thomas here, but do you think it will make any difference to the patrons if your name is stamped all over everything? The reason that I’m asking you that isn’t to talk you out of it but for you to think outside the box with your name on it. I’m not being mean, I swear, but just think of the cost it would be for you to have that professional look. Is it something that you think will improve your status as a great place to eat?” He said he didn’t know, but he thought it lookedgreat. “For you or for the people that come into the place? I think that’s a legitimate question. I’m all for it if you want it. Then I’m going to tell you to go big or go home, kind of mentality here.”
After speaking to Carl again, making sure that they didn’t upset him, he and Denver looked at the things that they’d come here to set up. There was a great deal at the shops, too, from buttons to ballrooms. The place sold anything and everything in between.
He was still pondering the dishes and sets as they were having another meal. The place, a vendor market boosted to having over three thousand shops, and shipments could be sent out to all over the world. Right now, all he could think about was his poor feet and how stuffy it was beginning to feel once the place started to really fill up. Arriving early, as they had, was a great idea, so long as you were out of there before five o’clock. Then things got really busy.
He was no closer to a decision than he’d been before leaving the booth. It was something that he knew he could come back to, the man had given him his business card as well as a catalog of the things that he was offering from the booth. Since he was only ‘watching’ the things in the booth for his friend, Carl told Jack to call and make arrangements to go to the man’s own warehouse in order to be able to see the production lines and what kind of work could be done. He liked that idea much better. No pressure, Carl told him, none at all.
“Also, you come on out to my place, we’ll have a couple of beers, and you can haggle me down on the prices I have set up for my restaurant equipment. I have it all, too, and receipts that go with them. Even a few of the larger items have extended warranties on them that I would be able to transfer into your name if you want it.” He didn’t have any warning lights go off in his head, and he told Carl that he’d do that. “I’ll have my granddaughter or her mother, Harper, put on the feed bag forus. She makes a mean pot roast, and we’ll talk about crappy customers and employees until our hearts are content.”
“I’d like that. Very much so.” After exchanging phone numbers, Jack felt like he’d made a good friend in the older gentleman. When they were finishing up on the last few booths, he and Denver felt as if they’d made a huge dent in what they’d come here to do today. It felt really good to be productive, Jake thought. Very good, indeed.
Chapter 8
Taylor watched as two men struggled with a walker across the lawn from them. She didn’t know if it belonged to either man as the thing had balloons and a very festive bag on the front to carry things in. Wondering aloud if they’d stolen it—or had borrowed it from the little girl that lived in the assistant living place too.
“Those old fools. Look at them out there acting like bullies. Mr. Reglan will fight someone over the last pea on his plate and then say you stole it from him. Mr. Martin isn’t all that much better. They squabble like small children when I know for a fact that both of them are in their late seventies.” Turning to look at her grandmother, really her great-grandmother, she smiled. “They should have been beaten more as children and—yes, I said it. Had their bottoms beaten more as children, and then they’d know how to properly act around their elders.”
“Mom beat my bottom a great deal. I still have no manners around my elders.” Grandma huffed at her. “I was just thinking about breaking you out of here so we can have some fun. You remember fun, don’t you? Or is watching rude old men without underwear on more your cup of tea.”
“Oh, dear lord. They neither one have underwear on.” Grandma turned away just as one of the people who worked there rescued not just the walker but the men as well before they exposed themselves too much more. “What would possess a person to walk around in that kind of gown. We all have clothing that we brought with us—is that your mother coming up the walkway? Taylor, I have no patience for her today. If she asks me more than one time if I’m all right, I’m going to brain her with my cane. I think I will anyway.” Laughing, Taylor greeted her mom and her new fling.
Her mom told her that she was experiencing life again. Thatmeant that she was dating everyone that she came in contact with who wasn’t married. Divorced was all right, but she’d not be responsible for breaking up a marriage she’d told her when she was old enough to understand that her mom was lonely.
Taylor supposed that her mom’s lesbian phase was going on right now. Not that it bothered her; her mother was a grown woman, and she loved her to pieces. Taylor just wished her mom would settle down and not be so odd all the time.
“Hello, Mom. Jeri. How are you guys feeling?” Grandma tsked at her while her mom went on and on about what the two of them had been up to today. “I didn’t realize that the winery was open this time of year? Or did they just open? It’s hard to keep up sometimes.”
Her mom, Gilda Jane, had been widowed at a very young age. Her dad, Henry Paul Murphy, had had a massive heart attack at the age of forty-three. Leaving mom and her, at only six weeks old, to fend for themselves.
It really wasn’t all that bad. They didn’t ever have to beat down the debt collectors or anything like that. It was just that. They were alone in a hostile world that her mom had never understood. No, she told herself, her mom had never wanted to understand. If her grandma hadn’t taken them in when she did, Taylor didn’t know what would have happened to them. Her mom was as flighty as she’d ever met.
“How are you feeling, Harriette? Are they feeding you well?” Grandma, not hard of hearing, winched with each word that mom would shout at her. “I hope you’re getting enough rest.”
“Mom. You do this every time. She can hear you just fine. More than likely better than you hear. Sit down and tell us what you’re doing here. This isn’t your usual visit day.” Mom settled in next to her, leaving her friend and companion sitting on the ground. Mom asked her how long she’d been here. “Since ten. Grandma and I are going to break out today and go get somesupper.”
