Merry Market Murder(16)

“Ian! Hi,” I said.

“Hey. I do have the best job, by the way,” he said. His arms were crossed in front of his chest as he leaned on the sturdy pole between my stall and Linda’s.

“That’s good to hear. How are you?”

“Very well, thanks, but I came by to see how you were doing. I heard about Reggie Stuckey.”

“I’m okay. It’s never good to find a dead body, though.”

Ian’s face became serious as he inspected me. “You sure you’re all right?”

“Yeah—it’s a terrible tragedy and it’s tacky to say, but I didn’t know him. I’m sad for what happened, but he wasn’t a friend.”

“I met him. He was a nice guy.”

“I should be asking if you’re okay then.”

“I’m fine. I’d only met him because I’d looked at his place before I purchased the land I ended up purchasing. He’d been trying to sell his tree farm for a long time.”

“Really? It wasn’t a successful farm?”

“That wasn’t it. According to the numbers he showed me, it was doing okay—not great, but good enough to make a living. He told me he was just tired of all the hard work.”

“Poor guy.”

“Yeah. It’s sad.”

If we’d still been dating, I would have quietly told him I’d share more with him later. I’d tell him about the contract issue and the scene in the parking lot. I was caught between wanting to share and knowing it was no longer appropriate to do so. Habits were hard to break.

“Anyway, if you need anything, just let me know,” he said a beat later, maybe sensing my wave of uncertainty.

“Thanks, Ian. You, too.”

“Hey, you need to come out and see both George and Gypsy. Soon, according to George’s instructions.”

Before Ian had purchased the land he was tilling, planting, and transforming into a lavender farm, he’d lived in the apartment above George’s garage. George was older and wonderful but had horrible vision. When Ian built his new home/warehouse, he made a space just for George. And Gypsy was the black cat I’d accidentally adopted when she was a clingy kitten and had just missed my truck’s tires as I pulled into a driveway. She and George had fallen immediately and deeply in love. The three of them—Ian, George, and Gypsy—were very happy together.

“Bring Hobbit and Sam,” Ian said genuinely, though I sensed there was more he wanted to say but maybe couldn’t quite find the words.

Yeah, despite both of us being grown-ups and Ian, at least, being mature enough to handle just about any situation, we were still figuring it out.

“Thanks, I will. Soon.”

I’d heard that Ian and a mutual friend we’d made, Betsy, had become a couple. She’d attempted to manipulate her way into Ian’s life before he and I had broken up, but at that specific moment I noticed that the raw sense of betrayal I’d felt over her actions suddenly didn’t sting as much.

Ian smiled one more time before he turned and left, and then I laughed a little at myself. When I gave it more thought, I’d realize that Ian was, of course, being friendly and supportive, but he’d also come over to my stall to try to communicate something else, something he couldn’t quite yet get out. It was probably something about Betsy.

We’d get there.

“What are you smiling at?”

“Mamma, what a great surprise!” I said as I leaned over the front display table and hugged Mamma Maria, a pie vendor from the Smithfield Market I’d met as the result of my snooping into the first murder at Bailey’s.

“It’s good to see you, Becca,” Mamma said as we disengaged. “I heard about the tragedy, though. You doing all right?”

Mamma Maria made and sold piled-high meringue and cream pies. She herself was as stacked as her pies, and she didn’t hide her assets. Today she wore tight jeans and a low-cut, short-sleeved shirt that would have given her cleavage the starring role if it weren’t for her platinum-blonde ponytail and bright-red lipstick, which somehow got top billing. She’d been dating Bailey’s peach vendor, Carl Monroe, for over a year now and we’d all become friends.

“I’ll . . . we’ll all be okay. It’s good to see you, too,” I said. “I haven’t made it out to Smithfield, and I haven’t seen you here for a couple months. What’s new?”

“Sounds like we’ve both been busy. Nothing much. Carl and I are still together . . . living together actually,” she said.

“Well, that’s new!”

“We’re happy, Becca. Our plans aren’t not to get married, but we’re just taking it one day at a time. We’re not in a hurry. I moved to Carl’s peach farm. I wanted to tell you myself.”