Otto.
“Geez, Otto, you good old boys sure stick together,” I said.
Otto pursed his lips and spat in his cup. “Richard was no good ol’ boy. He was city. Lived in town. Used other folks’ land to farm his bees. No, Richard was a townie. Not one of us.”
When I decided I wasn’t going to get any more out of Otto, I left him my fifty and carried a large box of beautiful Cherokee Purple tomatoes to my booth. Otto may be a throwback to the nineteenth century, but he sure knew how to grow heirloom tomatoes. I had no idea what I was going to do with all those tomatoes. Guess I could make a huge batch of salsa. Matt loved salsa. But at least I had discovered that there was smoldering resentment from one older farmer against landless members in the Market. Interesting.
As I walked back to my booth, I spied Pidgeon’s daughter, Taffy, going from booth to booth, apparently wringing out the last bit of sympathy she could. I wondered if she was talking about me. Or was I just being paranoid? By the aversion of vendors’ eyes as I passed by, I guess being paranoid was correct in this instance.
I had gotten used to being the center of people’s attention for a long time, ever since my husband became a nationally known architect. I had learned to deal with the curious, the well-intended and the envious who were determined to be hurtful. I stiffened when Taffy approached my booth. Which would she be?
“Mornin’, Miss Josiah,” she said.
“Hello Taffy,” I replied, aware that the other farmers were watching from the corners of their eyes. “My condolences for the loss of your father.”
“Miss Josiah, I won’t play the grieving daughter if you won’t play the concerned friend.”
“Okay.”
“We both know Daddy was a big turd,” she continued, inhaling deeply. “I feel like I can breathe for the first time. You did us a favor.”
“I didn’t do anything, either for you or to your father.”
Taffy pouted. Like Detective O’nan, she didn’t like being corrected. But then – who did? “Whatever. I just came by to say no hard feelings.”
I decided to change the subject. “What are you and your mother going to do now?”
“Well, Mommy is still stunned. She doesn’t know what to do without Daddy barking orders at her at all hours. She’ll snap out of it as soon as she gets the insurance check.”
“It is lucky that your father had such a large policy,” I said trying to find out how much.
“How do you know how much it’s for?” Taffy quizzed while readjusting her purse strap on her shoulder. Her heavily made-up brown eyes narrowed.
I shrugged. “People talk. Say it’s for a million.”
Taffy guffawed. “I wish.” She pulled her badly dyed blond hair into a scrunchy.
“I know money can never replace a loved one, but it can soften the blows that come after.”
Taffy smiled. I hoped that she would spend some of that money on dental repair. “I’ll tell Mommy about your concerns.” She checked the time on her cell phone. “Gotta go. You take care now, Miss Josiah.”
“Will do,” I said. I watched her leave in a new Prius. So Taffy was already spending the money before her mother got the check. I would have to find out more about Richard Pidgeon’s life insurance policy.
10
It was a day for relentless surprises. Arriving home from the Market, I came upon three cop cars waiting at my newly installed gate. I called Shaneika immediately on my cell phone. She was incommunicado so I left a message. Ignoring O’nan as he tapped on my van window, I called Matt as well. O’nan, red-faced,
“Geez, Otto, you good old boys sure stick together,” I said.
Otto pursed his lips and spat in his cup. “Richard was no good ol’ boy. He was city. Lived in town. Used other folks’ land to farm his bees. No, Richard was a townie. Not one of us.”
When I decided I wasn’t going to get any more out of Otto, I left him my fifty and carried a large box of beautiful Cherokee Purple tomatoes to my booth. Otto may be a throwback to the nineteenth century, but he sure knew how to grow heirloom tomatoes. I had no idea what I was going to do with all those tomatoes. Guess I could make a huge batch of salsa. Matt loved salsa. But at least I had discovered that there was smoldering resentment from one older farmer against landless members in the Market. Interesting.
As I walked back to my booth, I spied Pidgeon’s daughter, Taffy, going from booth to booth, apparently wringing out the last bit of sympathy she could. I wondered if she was talking about me. Or was I just being paranoid? By the aversion of vendors’ eyes as I passed by, I guess being paranoid was correct in this instance.
I had gotten used to being the center of people’s attention for a long time, ever since my husband became a nationally known architect. I had learned to deal with the curious, the well-intended and the envious who were determined to be hurtful. I stiffened when Taffy approached my booth. Which would she be?
“Mornin’, Miss Josiah,” she said.
“Hello Taffy,” I replied, aware that the other farmers were watching from the corners of their eyes. “My condolences for the loss of your father.”
“Miss Josiah, I won’t play the grieving daughter if you won’t play the concerned friend.”
“Okay.”
“We both know Daddy was a big turd,” she continued, inhaling deeply. “I feel like I can breathe for the first time. You did us a favor.”
“I didn’t do anything, either for you or to your father.”
Taffy pouted. Like Detective O’nan, she didn’t like being corrected. But then – who did? “Whatever. I just came by to say no hard feelings.”
I decided to change the subject. “What are you and your mother going to do now?”
“Well, Mommy is still stunned. She doesn’t know what to do without Daddy barking orders at her at all hours. She’ll snap out of it as soon as she gets the insurance check.”
“It is lucky that your father had such a large policy,” I said trying to find out how much.
“How do you know how much it’s for?” Taffy quizzed while readjusting her purse strap on her shoulder. Her heavily made-up brown eyes narrowed.
I shrugged. “People talk. Say it’s for a million.”
Taffy guffawed. “I wish.” She pulled her badly dyed blond hair into a scrunchy.
“I know money can never replace a loved one, but it can soften the blows that come after.”
Taffy smiled. I hoped that she would spend some of that money on dental repair. “I’ll tell Mommy about your concerns.” She checked the time on her cell phone. “Gotta go. You take care now, Miss Josiah.”
“Will do,” I said. I watched her leave in a new Prius. So Taffy was already spending the money before her mother got the check. I would have to find out more about Richard Pidgeon’s life insurance policy.
10
It was a day for relentless surprises. Arriving home from the Market, I came upon three cop cars waiting at my newly installed gate. I called Shaneika immediately on my cell phone. She was incommunicado so I left a message. Ignoring O’nan as he tapped on my van window, I called Matt as well. O’nan, red-faced,
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