Before he left this morning, Kent unfurled
the tent flaps, removed the tarps from the vegetable stands, and
watered everything down. He’s all about watering those plants, he’d
do it all day long if the customers didn’t bother him. The hose is
still wound through the make-shift aisles, between plants and over
stones, and when Luke wants to know if there’s anything he can do
to help out, the first thing I ask is if he’ll coil the hose back
up. I don’t need someone tripping over it and suing me because they
didn’t see the damn thing.
We get a meager turnout today—half the women
who stop come straight up to the register beneath the tent to ask
me where Kent is. “In town,” I tell them, and their eyes light up
like they’re actually going to go looking for him when they leave
here. C
