Janet Evanovich - Love in a Nutshell

“Your office? The one whose walls stop about six feet shy of the ceiling? Think not.”

“Then come to the market with me. I have to pick up food to cover us until the frozen stuff thaws and our replacement shipment arrives this afternoon.”

“ Harborside Market?”

“Yes, why?” He hesitated. “Are you worried about the way you look?”

“No, even though maybe I shoul#x2aybe I d be a little. What’s worrying me is that anything I know about the locals in this town, I learned from Marcie at the market. Harborside is the place to see and be seen. If I go there with you, people will think…” She rolled her hand, sending him on to what she felt was an obvious conclusion.

“That we’re shopping?” he asked.

“No, they’ll think we’re more than employer and employee.”

His grin widened.

“What?”

“You are a summer person, aren’t you? Among the locals, you don’t have to do anything to start gossip. It’s self-seeding. The second I hired you, it started.”

“But it’s unsubstantiated.”

“I don’t think a trip to the market constitutes a marriage proposal.”

“We do need to talk, but I want it to be away from town,” she said.

“How about the public parking lot in Frankfort?”

Frankfort was a fifteen-minute drive south, but worth the effort if it kept their conversation off the record.

“What time?”

“Midnight. Hoot like an owl if you think you may have been followed.”

“You’re making fun of me!”

“Only a little.”

“Okay, we’ll compromise,” she said. “How about a ten-minute head start for me, and then we meet at the market?”

“So we’re just bumping into each other?”

“Totally casual.”

FIVE MINUTES later, Kate pulled into an open parking space near Harborside Market, which was weirdly named, since it stood seven blocks from the water. After grabbing her keys and hopping from her Jeep, Kate walked past Keene’s Wine Bar/Bookshop, with its pastel-bright and cheerful Victorian façade. The sporting goods store, with its canoe-shaped sign and manly dark wood exterior, had a placard out front advertising its evening fly tying class. She skirted around that and moved on.

Kate arrived at the quaint market, which still had an original leaded-glass panel of intertwined green vines and red roses above its broad plate-glass window. Inside, she saw the usual gathering of locals, some shopping and some just shooting the breeze.

The market’s automatic door opened as she approached. Even if she hadn’t agreed to meet Matt, the scent of freshly baked cookies would have lured her in. And as always, everything in the store id.n the swas perfectly faced, stacked, and alphabetized. Kate had heard the occasional first-time visitor whisper that it was a little eerie, but she liked it. It gave her comfort to know that someplace in the world, everything was down-to-molecular-level aligned, because in her life, random ruled.

She grabbed a basket from the rack at the door and started down the first aisle just like a normal, non-cloak-and-dagger shopper would. She had no idea what she needed back at the house, but she had to buy something in order to maintain her cover. She reached for the first item that caught her attention and stuck it in her basket.

“It’s quirky-looking, but it tastes the same as regular cauliflower,” a woman’s voice announced from behind her.

Kate turned to see Marcie Landon, the market’s owner. Marcie had ash-blond hair cut into a sleek bob and had been blessed with classic features that left people guessing her age. Not that she held still long enough for a guess to be made. The woman zipped around so quickly that it seemed she was everywhere at once.

“What does?” Kate asked.

“The cauliflower,” she repeated as she came to stand beside Kate. “It’s purple, but the flavor isn’t any different.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Since I started carrying it a few months back, all you summer people have raved over it.”

“Great,” Kate replied, amused that she was still lumped with the summer people long after summer had gone. She’d heard somewhere, though, that it took three generations of full-time residency to be considered a townie, and she was well short of that mark. But speaking of townies, she wondered where Matt was.

“They’re all about the same weight,” Marcie said.

Kate blinked. “What are?”

“The cauliflowers. You’re staring at them. I did worry that there was a certain hypnotic quality to this display. Maybe I should…” She trailed off and gave an appraising look around the produce aisle. “But if I move the cauliflower, then I’ll have to move the peppers, and after that, it’s anarchy.”

“Oh, no. The display is perfect. I’m just distracted.”

The market door opened. Instead of Matt, Junior Greinwold, the town’s beloved but totally inept handyman, shuffled in. As always, balding, slope-shouldered, and bulky Junior carried a blue six-pack cooler. He’d been helping Kate patch up her house, fixing broken toilet seals, regrouting leaky showers, and other minor assorted broken things until she could afford to hire a real contractor. She still didn’t know what he kept in the cooler.

Kate had begun checking out brussels sprouts still on the stalk when the door swung open again. This time, it was Matt. He grabbed a cart and headed her way.

He pulled his cart even to her. “Funny meeting you here.”

“Amazing coincidence.”

“So what do you say we shop together?” he asked.

“Sounds like a plan.”

He closed his hand around her basket’s metal handle. “Here, let me take that for you.”

Kate grasped her basket tightly. “No, I can carry it.”

Matt grinned, “Are you sure? Letting go can be a helluva lot of fun. Good for you, even.”

“Are we still talking about my basket?”

Marcie popped up at Matt’s side. “Well, look at you, Matt. Aren’t you the chivalrous one, taking Kate’s basket.”

Kate let go of the basket and Matt took an involuntary half step backward. Marcie gazed speculatively, first at Matt and then at Kate. “So how long have you two known each other?”

Matt was seemingly oblivious. “Since I hired Kate last week.”

Marcie settled a hand against her heart. “So, no long-ago romance rekindled? That means you felt a spark right away. How sweet.”

“There was no spark,” Kate said.

A bold-faced lie, of course. But her feelings were hers and she wasn’t sharing her spark with the whole town. Or even Matt.

“Nonsense,” Marcie said. “I have an eye for these things. I could tell immediately with each of Shay VanAntwerp’s three husbands. There’s always a spark.”

“Cheese. I need cheese,” Matt said.

Kate figured that was as good a change of topic as any. She whirled around and took off for the deli counter, followed by Matt.

Matt stopped dead halfway to the counter. Junior Greinwold was peeking out at them from behind a soft drink display.

“Hey, Junior,” Matt said.

Apparently, Junior didn’t spy often. He stammered something, grabbed a couple of plastic two-liter bottles, and bolted.

Kate turned to Matt. “You know Junior? He’s been working at my place. He seems like an okay guy, but I have to say the way he holds on to that blue cooler like it’s made of gold is a little creepy.”

Matt resumed walking toward the display case filled with cheese. “He’s a good guy. Hangs out at the brewery. The cooler’s probably filled with my beer, but nobody really knows for sure. And don’t worry about Marcie, either. People love to talk in this town.”

She shook her head. “I don’t care about the gossip. What I care about is having my job made tougher.”