‘Right,’ she said before they were engulfed with requests.
Dylan bought them all a hot chocolate: his and Cleo’s without cream or marshmallows, the kids with both options. ‘I hope you’re not going to be sick later,’ he teased Jacob and Ruby.
‘Dad, this is what kids are supposed to eat,’ Jacob began, before Ruby interrupted him and said it was a special treat and Cleo deserved one too.
The hot chocolate warmed fingers through paper cups and they sat on a low wall towards the entrance of the market as they drank. The trees surrounding the market were bare, branches crept up towards the sky, out to the sides as though stretching as much as they could to encompass the beauty of Connecticut in their grasp until spring displayed a different kind of scene. The four of them chatted about school projects, Christmas ornaments and traditions, favourite foods of the season, and when they’d finished, Dylan stacked all four empty cups and took them over to the trash can.
They continued down through the market again, on the opposite side this time, past a stall filled with candy canes, another with festive decorated mugs, a stall selling holiday cards, another filled with exquisite chocolates. Jacob had started to drag his feet, a sure sign that whinging wasn’t far off, and Dylan lifted him up onto his shoulders.
‘The view is great up here.’ Jacob was happy with his new position.
‘Really?’ Dylan held his son’s legs against his chest. ‘Maybe I’ll get on your shoulders next time.’
‘Don’t be silly, Daddy.’
Dylan felt his son’s head rest on the top of his as Cleo moved closer to the chocolate stall.
‘Those are amazing.’ She was admiring the chocolate musical instruments—a violin, a cello, a saxophone, and it was only then that Dylan noticed Ruby had slipped her hand into Cleo’s. He pretended to look at the chocolates too, but seeing his daughter bond so naturally to another woman knocked him sideways. After the divorce he’d hoped he’d meet someone, but the reality of it hadn’t been something he’d considered. Ruby was headstrong, Cleo was dead right on that, and he’d never been sure how his daughter would feel about another woman in the role as Mom. Of course their mom was their mom, nobody would ever take Prue’s place, but today had him daring to believe that someone else could become a major part of their lives.
‘Dad? Are you even listening?’
‘Sorry, Ruby, what did you say?’ He pretended to be equally mesmerised by the creations rather than by Cleo.
‘They have a chocolate Santa as tall as the roof!’
‘Where?’ He eyed the Santa in the far corner of the stall. ‘That’s not chocolate, it’s pretend.’
‘It’s for real.’ The stallholder smiled.
‘No way!’ He stepped closer. ‘I may need to try a chunk of chocolate just to be sure,’ he joked. He clocked the price tag and whistled through his teeth. ‘Do you think you’ll sell that today?’
‘I’m hoping there’s a serious chocoholic amongst the crowds.’ The stallholder laughed and Dylan bought two chocolate soldiers on sticks for the kids as Ruby dragged Cleo to the other side of the stall. By the time he joined them, they were doing the typical female thing.
‘I see you found the shoes,’ he teased his daughter. ‘You’re going to cost me a lot of money over the years, aren’t you?’
Darkness had crept up on them, the kids were weary, and as they had had their chocolate fix, Cleo and Dylan perused the cheese stall, next in line.
‘What brings you here today?’ Dylan asked Cleo. ‘Christmas shopping?’
‘No, I did all mine at the start of the month as I knew I’d be too busy with the store. I’m here to check out the market scene, think about some options.’
Dylan looked around him as lights twinkled above the stalls, around the trunks of trees. ‘For the Little Knitting Box?’
‘Maybe. I’ve been chatting with my Grandpa as well as with the other store owners, and having a stall at the local fairs could be an option, especially around Christmas. I don’t think I could solely rely on markets but I could combine it with something else.’
‘Online?’
‘It’s one option. Although I think I’d miss having the physical store.’
He looked around. ‘I haven’t seen a knitting stall here. There’s one selling hats and scarves, but none of the extras.’
Cleo smiled. ‘I know, and that’s a good thing.’
Dylan took the discarded wrappers from the kids as Cleo chatted with the stallholder who encouraged them to taste some of the cheeses on offer, and by the time he’d turned back Cleo had tasted something that made her pull a peculiar face.
‘Not your sort of thing?’ He laughed. ‘I love cheese, could eat a ton of it, wouldn’t even matter what type.’
‘Try it…’ She pushed a toothpick into the largest of the chunks. The stallholder had disappeared down the other end to help another customer.
