Page 156 of Hades

So I stayed close. My hand at her back when she needed grounding. My body behind hers when the crowd pressed too close. My presence a statement to everyone who looked at her.

Mine.

Pegasus handled the restocking. Memnon managed the crowd flow. Both of them were professional and respectful.

And Lettie’s mother sat in that folding chair at the back of the booth. Silent. Alert. Watching.

She looked good. Better than I’d ever seen her. Hair fixed. Makeup applied. Clothes that actually fit instead of the shapeless nightgowns she usually wore.

She sat straighter. Leaned forward occasionally. Her eyes scanned faces in the crowd with an intensity that made my gut clench.

By early afternoon, the crowd had thickened. The festival was in full swing. Music blared from speakers near the food stalls. Kids ran between booths screaming and laughing. Adults moved slower, stopping to chat with neighbors, examining products.

Lettie had sold out of half her stock. Pegasus was taking orders for next week. Memnon was keeping the crowd moving smoothly.

Everything was normal.

Until it wasn’t.

Lettie’s mother’s posture changed.

Subtle. A straightening of her spine. A shift in her breathing. Her hands unclenched in her lap and she leaned forward, eyes locking on something in the crowd.

I followed her gaze.

A man. Mid-forties maybe. Tall. Muscular build with dark brown hair, graying at the temples. Jeans and a flannel shirt that screamed department store clearance rack.

Forgettable and familiar at the same time.

But he moved through the crowd with purpose. Not browsing. Not stopping at booths. Just walking. Straight toward us.

And Lettie’s mother watched him like he was the only person in the world.

Her entire body language shifted. The bitterness and hostility I’d seen every time I was in that house disappeared. Something softer took its place. Eager. Almost nervous.

Like she knew him. Like she’d been waiting for him.

The man reached the booth and stopped.

His eyes went to Lettie’s mother first. A smile. Small. Private. The kind of smile that said they had history.

She smiled back.

I’d never seen her smile. Not once. Not at Lettie. Not at anyone.

But she smiled at him.

And then she stood.

Stood up from that chair without complaint. Without needing help. Like she’d been doing it all along.

Lettie’s hands stilled on the jar she was holding.

I felt the shift in her body before I saw her face. The tension that had been coiling tighter all morning suddenly released. Not into fear. Into recognition.

“Oh,” she breathed. Quiet. Almost to herself.

My hand found Lettie’s back. Instinct. Possession. Warning.