Now, every time she smiled at me or brushed my hand while reaching for something,Ifelt my carefully constructed walls crumbling a little more.Myinner bricklayer was working overtime trying to build them back up as quickly as she knocked them down.Ineeded to be able to feel frustrated with her, orI’dhave to acknowledge what was actually simmering beneath the surface.
“What if we focused on the artisanal angle?”Chloewas saying, holding up her phone to film our display. “Talkabout the traditional methods, the connection to the land…”
“Could you stop pointing that thing at me?”Isnapped. “Ilook upset, apparently, which isn’t exactly the vibe we’re going for.”
Chloe lowered her phone, andIimmediately felt guilty.
“Sorry,” she said quietly. “I’lljust … go walk around for a bit.Seewhat other vendors are doing.”
She disappeared into the growing crowd beforeIcouldapologise, leaving me alone with our increasingly depressing setup and my own foul mood, absentmindedly fiddling with the tablecloth as people walked past, mostly disinterested.
Of course,Iwas stressed about more than just slow sales.Tonight, we were hosting aD&Dsession at the farm– my idea, actually, suggested casually toFatimawhen she’d mentioned wanting to seeGwenynen.Ofcourse, she’d immediately seized the suggestion and organised the entire evening with minimal input from me, and now we were hours away from all ofChloe’sfriends unloading on the place.I’dspent yesterday frantically cleaning the warehouse so we could use the workshop table, moving tools and clearing up the soap supplies.
“Teddy?TeddyCooper?”
I looked up to see a familiar face approaching–Dylan, whomI’dmet summers ago whenMomandJenused to drag me to local events over the summer to “socialise with people my own age.”Theywere obviously older than whenI’dlast seen them, their hair in a stylish mullet where it used to be a poof of curls.Theywore a crochet sweater vest, andIput two and two together, assuming the stall across the way selling crocheted stuffed animals was theirs.
They came around the table and held their hands up for a hug, soIstood and accepted it.
“Dylan!Ididn’t know you were still in the area.”
“Could say the same about you,”Dylansaid, settling into the chairChloehad vacated. “AliceandIwere just saying we had no idea you still came back every summer.”
Alice appeared a moment later– another face from those awkward teenage summers, now lithe and ethereal, with raven-black hair down to her waist.I’dseen her earlier selling delicate, handmade jewellery, butIhadn’t put the face with the name until now.
“How’s business so far?”Iasked, thoughIcould guess from their expression as soon asImentioned it.Wewere only an hour or so into the event, but it was already clear it was a bit of a dud.
“Terrible,”Dylansaid bluntly. “Peoplekeep complaining about the prices.Likethey expect handmade crochet to cost the same asTemuslop.Ikeep explaining that each piece takes hours, that it literally cannot be made by machine, but?—”
“But people don’t want to hear it,”Alicefinished. “I’vehad a few sales, butI’mnot sureI’lleven make back my table fee.”
“Welcome to the club,”Isaid grimly.
“You should come to more events,”Alicesaid. “Orfor a drink.Weget together sometimes, the local makers.It’snice to take solace in each other when things are like this.”
“I’ll think about it,”Isaid, getting momentarily, uncharacteristically excited about the idea of growing my friend group, beforeIremembered thatIwas more than halfway through my stay this year.Itwasn’t really worth their time, was it?
I realised with horror that two and a half months had gone by in the blink of an eye.Mytime atGwenynenalways went too fast, but this year was extra short, and it was disappearing extra quickly.
I was about to ask more about their local makers’ group whenChloereappeared, her arms full of packages and bags from various stalls.Istared at her in confusion as she emptied her arms of the goods.Theytumbled out onto the table before she corralled them again, placing them inside a wicker basket she’d found somewhere.
“Been shopping?”Iasked, surprised.
She didn’t answer directly.Instead, she turned toDylan. “Areyou the one selling the crochet animals?”
“That’s me,”Dylansaid, then introduced themself.
“CouldIbuy one of the small bees, please?”Chloeasked, andDylanbeamed.Theywent to fetch an adorable crocheted bee from their display.Chloeheld it up to me and raised her eyebrows.
“Anatomically correct enough for theGwenynenbrand?” she asked, without a trace of humour in her voice.Ilaughed for us both.
“It’ll do,”Isaid, and she nodded and added the bee to the display.Itsat alongside a jar of honey and a bottle of mead from our stand, a mug, a hand-woven placemat she’d folded into a pretty fan shape, some wax-dipped cheeses, and a package of what appeared to be dried, cured meat.
“I’mAlice,”Alicesaid, holding her hand out.Chloesmiled and shook it.
“Chloe,” she said. “Areyou a maker, too?”
Alice nodded. “AndI’vegot the perfect pair of amber earrings to go with all this.”
