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Summer had been forgiving so far this year. Instead of pounding heat from the sun’s rays and suffocating humidity that kept Iris covered in a thin layer of sweat, temperatures had been only slightly warmer than spring. She was enjoying the unseasonably cool weather. It wouldn’t last, of course. The sun would eventually remember it needed to turn up the heat, and then she would be miserable until autumn came. But, for now, summer was nice.
Although she wouldn’t have minded a little rain, she thought, watching the dust kicking up around her feet as she walked through the open-air market.
She sighed and looked up to see the stall she wanted had no line. That brought a smile to her face.
“Good morning, Mr. Smith,” she called out cheerfully.
The shopkeeper’s white mustache twitched up in an answering smile as she approached. “Good morning, Iris. Who are you shopping for today?”
“Mrs. Evans. She’s still recovering from having a baby.” Iris had already set an empty wicker basket on the counter and pulled several scraps of paper from a pocket of her worn blue dress, which she was shuffling through as she spoke. She selected one and handed it to him. “Here you go.”
“I don’t know what this town would do without you, Iris.” He chuckled as he scanned the lines. “People would have to get up and do their own work.”
She shrugged. “It just means more money for me.”
A sudden shout followed by the wailing of a child interrupted their conversation. Iris closed her eyes and sighed again, her shoulders slumping for a moment before she squared them and turned around.
There she was, a little girl of about five years old, sitting at the feet of a surprised stranger and bawling her eyes out.
“Kayla, stop that,” Iris shouted.
The girl’s reaction was immediate. She stopped sobbing and screwed her face up into a scowl, her big blue eyes shooting a venomous glare at Iris.
“Get over here,” Iris ordered her.
Kayla hopped to her feet and stormed over without sparing a glance at the confused man in the street. Iris made a mental note to apologize to him later and turned back to Mr. Smith, offering him a chagrined smile.
“Excuse me, Mr. Smith, I’ll just be a minute.”
He chuckled and waved her off. “Take your time. I’ll just fill your list and help the next customer while you get her sorted out.”
Iris’ smile vanished when she spun back to Kayla. She pursed her lips and snatched the girl’s hand in hers, leading her off the street and onto the boardwalk in front of the butcher’s shop, where she sat on a bench and patted the spot beside her. Kayla beamed and climbed onto the seat, snuggling up to her side with obvious pleasure. That only exasperated Iris more.
“Kayla, this is the third time this week. You can’t keep running off like this. There are a lot of strangers coming through town lately, and you never know when you’re going to run into the wrong person.”
“But I never get to see you anymore.”
Iris’ anger deflated with a single look from those imploring blue eyes. She sighed again, relenting and stroking Kayla’s fine blonde hair soothingly. “I have to work, Kayla. And you’re supposed to be studying with Father John. Did you even tell anybody you were leaving?”
“No,” Kayla admitted reluctantly, dropping her gaze to her lap.
Iris glanced down the street. The middle of the road was empty except for shoppers moving between stalls. “Well, Fred should be along soon,” she muttered.
Kayla’s head shot up again. “Why can’t I stay with you?”
“You know why, Kayla. I have to work, and I can’t do that and keep track of you, too. You’ll see me when I get home tonight.”
“No, I won’t. You won’t be home until after I’m asleep. Why do you have to work so much, anyway?”
Iris hated that look. Those big blue eyes always tugged at her heartstrings and made her feel guilty, even when Kayla was clearly in the wrong. She just couldn’t stand it. How many times had they had this conversation now? And it always turned out the same way. Angry tears and hurt feelings on both sides.
Time to change tactics.
“Because you need to eat,” Iris said, lightening her tone and poking Kayla in the stomach.
“That tickles!”
“And you need a new dress,” Iris continued, tickling the giggling girl mercilessly. Kayla fell backwards on the bench, wriggling and writhing, her bare calves flailing beneath the hem of a dress Iris had let out as far as it would go. Iris’ dress wasn’t in a much better state. At least she didn’t have holes in her shoes, but there were several in Kayla’s shoes to show off her wiggling toes. “And new shoes.”
“Stop it!” Kayla squealed.
“People aren’t just going to give you new things because you’re cute, you know.”
“Okay, okay! Stop! I give!”
Iris retracted her hands, giving Kayla a moment’s reprieve to catch her breath. The little girl sat up, grinning widely, her face flushed from laughing so hard. There was a mischievous glint in her blue eyes.
“But people give you things because you’re cute.”
Iris furrowed her brow in confusion. “No, they don’t. Where did you get that idea?”
Kayla leaned in and smirked. “Well, Darius gave you a flower because you’re cute.”
Iris’ brown eyes flew wide open. She pursed her lips and looked away, but not before Kayla saw the blush coloring her cheeks. “Darius is a nice boy with too much time on his hands.”
“You’re blushing,” Kayla sang out. “And he wanted to kiss you, too.”
Iris’ eyes snapped back to Kayla. “Were you spying on me?”
“Are you gonna marry him?”
“Kayla! You’re in so much trouble!”
The angry shout saved Iris from having to come up with a reply, and she couldn’t have been more relieved. She looked down the street at the teenage boy running toward them. His flushed face was nearly the same shade of red as his wild curls when he skidded to a stop in front of the boardwalk. He dropped his hands on his thighs, panting for breath and glaring at Kayla with flashing green eyes.
Iris stood and cleared her throat. “It’s okay, Fred. We had a little talk, and Kayla’s going to behave herself now. Right, Kayla?”
“But—”
“No ‘buts.’ You’re going home with Fred and doing as you’re told, or I’m not playing with you on Sunday.”
Kayla’s face split into a wide smile. “You won’t be working?”
Ignoring the threat and focusing on the reward, as usual. Iris shook her head and smiled. “I never work on Sunday. We can spend the whole day together.”
“Can we go to that spot by the river and watch the clouds?” Kayla asked, bouncing excitedly on her heels.
This was why Iris could never stay mad at her.
“We can do whatever you want. But only if you go home and do as you’re told.”
Kayla skipped off the boardwalk to Fred and took his hand. “Okay, let’s go back.”
He scowled down at her. “You nearly gave me a heart attack! All this talk of war, and all these soldiers coming through town, and you go and run off when I’m not looking!”
She looked up at him with those big blue eyes, giving him the irresistible routine. “I’m sorry.”
Iris could almost see him melting.
“You’re such a brat,” he grumbled, but a smile tugged at his lips as he ruffled Kayla’s already mussed blonde hair. “C’mon, let’s go before Father John comes looking for both of us.”
Their clasped hands swung between them as they left, with Kayla chattering away and Fred looking down at her with that reluctant smile. For a moment, Iris wished she could go back home with them. Even though Kayla really was a brat, and Iris knew she shouldn’t reward her for bad behavior.
Although she was the most adorable, loveable brat that Iris knew.
She shook her head to refocus. It wasn’t even noon yet. She could get a lot of work done before the day ended.
“Nice family.”
She jumped mid-step at the unfamiliar deep voice. The man from earlier stood nearby, leaning against a support post with his arms crossed over his chest. A chill ran down her spine. His sharp green eyes seemed to glow in the shadows of the shop awning, and she had to remind herself of Father John’s constant admonitions not to judge others based on appearance. She swallowed and forced a smile to her face.
“Yes, they are. Sorry about Kayla. She’s been acting up a lot lately. My name is Iris. Pleased to meet you.”
He nodded in acknowledgment but didn’t reply. There was something very unnerving about his unblinking gaze, like he was sizing her up. She decided a hasty escape was a better option than trying to engage in small talk.
“Well, sorry again. If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work.”
She stepped off the boardwalk and onto the street, away from his pervading chill, back into the warmth and sunlight bathing Mr. Smith’s stall. The little old man was helping a rather large woman who wore her dress pinched tightly about her waist to shove her extra weight up to her bust. Her wide-brimmed, flower-strewn straw hat made her look even more ridiculous.
“Hello, Mrs. Jones,” Iris said politely.
The woman turned to face her and smiled, showing off the bright red lipstick slipping outside the lines of her lips and staining her teeth. “Iris, my dear, how are you?”
“I’m doing well. I hope you are, too.”
“All ready for you, Mrs. Jones,” Mr. Smith interjected, holding out a wrapped package for her.
Mrs. Jones ignored him. “Oh, Iris, would you be a dear and see to my garden later today?”
Gardening. In this weather, that meant several trips to the river for water, and Iris had a full schedule for the day without that.
“If I have time. Is it okay if I can’t get to it until tomorrow?”
Mrs. Jones waved her hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, what was I thinking? Of course you’re busy today. Tomorrow will be fine. How much, Mr. Smith?”
While they concluded their transaction, Iris pulled a scrap of paper and a pencil worn down to the nub from her pocket. She jotted a note and slipped both back into her pocket, looking up just in time to see coins thrust in her face.
“I’d better pay you now before I forget,” Mrs. Jones explained.
Iris shook her head and took a step back. “I couldn’t accept that. Not until I actually do the work.”
“But I’ll be at a party tomorrow. Here. I know you’ll do it.” The older woman took Iris’ hand and dropped the coins into her palm. “And try not to work too late tonight, Iris. Adequate rest is absolutely essential for maintaining a good complexion,” she intoned, lifting Iris’ chin with a finger.
“I’ll keep that in mind, ma’am. Have a nice day.”
Mr. Smith chuckled as Mrs. Jones walked away. “She hasn’t had a good complexion in thirty years. I think I have everything for you here. Anything for yourself?”
“No, thanks. How much is it? Oh—hold on…” She rummaged around in her pockets again and sighed. “Mrs. Evans forgot to pay me. Is it okay if I bring the money later? No, wait, take this.”
She held out the coins in her hand, but Mr. Smith shook his head firmly.
“That’s your money, Iris. I’m here all day. Bring the money when you can.”
“But this will cover part of it until I can get the rest from Mrs. Evans. Please, take it.”
His mustache twitched. “On one condition. You pick something for yourself.”
“No, I can’t,” Iris insisted, shaking her head. “Please, just take it. I really need to get back to work.”
He sighed and took the money reluctantly. “Alright then.”
“Thank you. I’ll be back later.”
She picked up the full basket and walked away, pulling the papers from her pocket and scanning her list again. Mr. Smith was right. If people started doing these little odd jobs for themselves, she’d be out of work. But there was always somebody with the means and the money to hire her for their shopping, laundry, cooking, cleaning, gardening, babysitting, or whatever else, which meant she was always busy. And then there were people like Mrs. Jones, who went out of their way to find something for her to do and then overpaid significantly. Sometimes she wondered why they didn’t just donate to the church. That was where all the money went, anyway. Every cent she made went to Father John, who then had the unenviable task of determining where and how to spend it for his collection of orphans.
She sighed and stuffed the list back in her pocket. Drop off Mrs. Evans’ shopping, pick up the money, take it back to Mr. Smith, and then the Moores’ laundry should be dry and ready to come off the line. That should do it for her morning.
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