Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
He knew. He’d watched me enough. When I prepared things for people, first I spoke over them, waking the dormant items placed inside whatever vessel I’d chosen—that put the spell into motion—and then I cleansed it and didn’t touch it again with my hands. At home, I used my kitchen mitts; when I was at the fall festival, I used one of my grandfather’s handkerchiefs.
“Okay,” I agreed, smiling at him.
I told Amanda she could have my seat, which she wanted from how quickly she sat down, but then she popped right back up to talk to some customers looking at a large piece of labradorite.
Taking the bottle from Toby, I moved away from the others and whispered words of hope and growth over the vessel I held cradled in my hands. Once done, I returned to Toby, put it down, and he handed me the piece of palo santo I’d brought with me, and my matches. When the wood was lit, I cleansed the bottle and packed the box for Toby’s teacher, placing a small sage-and-lavender smoke bundle in as well.
“Here you go, buddy,” I announced when I was done tying it up with jute.
“Thank you,” he said softly, then leaned against me and wrapped his arms around my waist. “Can we go give it to her?”
“Where is she?”
“Eating by the hill with the trees.”
I told Amanda, “Your son and I will be right back. I’m counting on you.”
She gave me the thumbs-up, and I was going to tell her where the master price list was, but I realized I didn’t need to. She knew what things were worth and took into consideration the age of the stone, not just how big or small it was, just as I did when I was pricing items. And with my bottles, she knew some were harder to make and took more time. She wasn’t about to not take the work I had put into something into consideration in the selling price. At times, I devalued things I did or made because they were simple or easy for me. I was fairly sure that was true for a lot of people. They undervalued their own gifts. But Amanda had always made me see what my creations were truly worth. Just another of the many reasons I adored her.
Toby and I took the long way around, circling the entire park and not directly through the crowd, because sometimes that was too much for him. He was an introvert and had a certain amount of time he could be expected to be social. Once the meter was full, he was done. I could tell when that happened, just as his mother could. He had probably asked her to come to my stall because even though it was busy in the morning, and then all day in waves, he didn’t have to interact with anyone. He could sit and read or tidy up without having to chat.
Now, walking through an area where lots of eating tables were set up, he kept his head down, not making eye contact. I, on the other hand, waved to those who lifted their hands to get my attention. It was a quieter area of the fair, where people were sitting to listen to the folk bands and the trios and quartets playing classical selections.
From there, we walked down the grass hill to a grove of maple trees, all in a glorious fall array, where a man, a woman, and their beagle were having a picnic.
“That’s her, come on,” Toby said, yanking on my hand.
As we approached, the beagle got up to see us, and we both knelt and petted him.
“Sig,” Mr. Latham, I was assuming, called out to him, chuckling. “Stop hogging the students.”
“He comes to school with her sometimes,” Toby told me. “And that’s her husband, Mr. Latham.”
My deduction skills were fantastic.
“Man, if dogs got to come to school when I was going, I might have done better.”
“Me too,” Mrs. Latham called over, her voice kind. “And how are you today, Mr. Sterling?”
“Fine,” Toby replied. “This is my Uncle Xan.”
“I know your Uncle Xan,” she told him. “Or of him.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” I said as we stopped next to the spread blanket she and her husband were sharing.
“Oh no, it’s good,” she assured me, smiling.
“I got you something,” Toby chimed in, holding out the box.
“Oh, Toby, you shouldn’t have spent—”
“It’s for you so you won’t be sad anymore.”
She grimaced. “You noticed I’ve been sad?”
He nodded.
“Well, that’s not good.” She sighed, glancing up at me. “I’ll have to change that.”
“I wouldn’t worry,” I soothed her. “As you probably know, Toby’s a bit more observant than a lot of other kids.”
“I definitely agree.” She smiled at him before turning her attention to the box, opening it quickly.
“It goes on your nightstand at home,” Toby told her once she’d removed the brown craft paper and found the bottle nestled there in sweetgrass from the edge of my garden.