Chapter Text
“And Steph, before I forget, do you want me to grab you anything while I’m out?” I asked over the phone. It was a Saturday, so it meant it was time for my weekly trip to the farmer’s market. Every now and then my roommate and best friend Steph would join me, but she had to pay an impromptu trip to her office this morning.
“I’m supposed to go to Gina and Ted’s tomorrow night for dinner and want to bring some kind of appetizer. Um… could you get me one of those breads with the olive oil, garlic, and tomatoes? Crap, I can never remember what they’re called. Something with an ‘f’ I think.”
“A focaccia?”
“Yeah, that’s it!”
“Sure, no problem. I’ll stop by Francesca’s. Theirs are the best.”
“Thanks Ellie, you rock.”
“Haha, you’re welcome! See you in a few hours.”
As I stepped out of our apartment in the East Village, I couldn’t help but admire what a perfect September morning it was- jean weather with a slight breeze and the faint smell of autumn in the air. This was one of the things I loved best about New York City. Growing up in a more rural part of the state, September, October, and early November were always great because of roadside stands and getting to go to my uncle’s farm for fresh corn and picking out the best pumpkins for Halloween. Plus, if my sister and I were really good, my parents would sometimes drive down to where there was a large Amish population so we could get homemade whoopee pies and pumpkin bread. I heard a low grumble coming from my stomach and had to remind myself Ellie, stop reminiscing about food or you’ll end up eating everything you buy.
I wasn’t able to shake it entirely by the time I got to Union Square, so I grabbed a hot cider and pumpkin muffin before setting off to get everything on my list. Thankfully I had gotten there early and was able to get most of what I needed before it got too hectic.
Pears? Check.
Empire Apples? Check.
Granny Smith Apples? Check.
Corn? Check.
Kale? Check.
Brussels Sprouts? Check.
Focaccia? Check.
All that was missing was my weekly bouquet for the kitchen table.
My favorite place was along the north end of the park- Meadow Farms and as soon as I spotted their familiar green tent, I strolled over to finish my morning errands. Before I had the chance to peruse the baskets and buckets, Ben, who owned the farm, eagerly waved me over. He reminded me of my grandpa- always telling corny jokes, always willing to tell stories about the ‘good old days’, and always talking about his grandkids. Today was no exception. His youngest daughter, Kelly and her husband, Ryan just welcomed a baby boy and Grandpa Ben was grinning from ear to ear as he showed me the photos. After chatting with Ben for a few minutes, I looked around and before long spotted the perfect bunch: pink gerbera daisies, white stephanotis, burgundy dahlias, and orange roses. I bent down to grab them and felt a soft nudge against my arm, so I turned just in time to see a white pointer poking its nose into my flowers. I laughed thinking that he was likely looking for a post-breakfast snack.
As I reached out to pet the dog, I noticed something pretty significant was missing- there was a leash attached to the dog’s collar, but there was no human holding the other end of the leash. To try to make sure I could get him back to his owner, I went to check his tag when I heard someone call out “Carl!” Upon hearing the name, my new four-legged friend proceeded to lay on his belly and put his nose under his front paws.
“Ah, so you must I be Carl” I said to the dog and called back to the voice I had just heard, “He’s over here”. Within a matter of seconds, a man donning a Yankees hat and aviators came over and squatted down next to me. He turned to the pointer who slowly slunk towards his owner before rolling over, indicating that he wanted his belly rubbed.
Trying to suppress a smile, the stranger turned to me, “I’m so sorry he got away from me, I hope he didn’t bother you. He’s really mischievous and thinks people are here just to pet and feed him.” He then stood and offered me a hand up.
“No, not at all. Other than trying to take a bite out of these” I replied, lifting my flowers. “But hey, they look kind of tasty, you never know.”
Handing over Carl’s leash, I was struck by how tall the man was. At 5’9”, neither I nor my friends considered me short, but for the first time in a long time, I actually felt petite.
The flush of embarrassment slowly faded from the stranger’s cheeks as he pointed to my bouquet, “Please let me take care of these for you. It’s the least I can do to repay you for putting up with this looney tune” and proceeded to look at Carl who was sitting and wagging his tail quite contentedly. Refusing to take no for an answer, despite my insisting that it wasn’t necessary, he paid for my flowers. After thanking him and giving Carl a pat on the head and the last of my pumpkin muffin, we parted ways and I headed home. On my way, I turned my attention to the next bullet on her to do list: whipping up a giant batch of chocolate chip cookies to drop off at the guys’ flag football game on Monday evening.