8. Market Heat

The next two days were pretty uneventful for Everest. She spent time setting up her small rented house properly and of course, keeping up with her friends online.

She had been wanting to go into town to check out stuff but had been putting it off to enjoy a few days of quiet she had come here for.

Opening the pantry and finding it full of all of a bag of chips and pretty much nothing else had done it for her. She had had no choice but to go into town today.

She walked down the piazza and broke into a small laugh on seeing the bustle before her.

Finally!

It seemed like she had found her way to the market successfully. She dropped into the nearest canopied seat at an open shop to the side and stuffed the map back into her tote bag to wipe the film of perspiration from her hot brow, breathing heavily. The real reason she had been postponing going into town was the absence of transportation. The distance from her side of the town to the umbra was a huge fucking stretch that couldn't be legged on a regular basis.

Getting to the market alone had taken her a bit over an hour, trekking in the hot sun without stopping. If she hadn't had the foresight to pack an umbrella with her stuff, she'd have long passed out the on the lonely dirt roads in that wicked broiling sun. The sight of alfalfa everywhere didn't help, to be honest, she was getting a little sick of seeing it everywhere under her nose.

Apparently, taxi service wasn't a thing in this small valley town, not to talk of Uber or Lyft or anything. Mrs Casss had informed her over the phone that most tourists rented bicycles or scooters and the likes. But Everest just couldn't see herself sitting on anything with two wheels. Something about a childhood fear.

"Fuck," she muttered. Her face was hot enough to fry an egg on and she wouldn't stop sweating. Maybe she shouldn't have dropped her attempt at Pilates two months ago.

She snatched up the leaflet menu on the table and frantically fanned at her face. Her throat was dried up, she needed water badly.

As her luck would have it, a young waiter in a pink checkered apron appeared at her side holding a sweating glass jug of water and a glass cup.

"Here you go," the guy whispered, swiftly pouring water into the glass cup and handing it to her. "Welcome to Big Uncle Don's T***s Bar, BUDTaB."

Everest practically snatched the glass from the grinning boy and downed the liquid in one.

Quite understanding, the boy neatly poured her another glass which she downed in one go as well. It was on the third she started to feel a bit like herself and she stopped halfway.

Smiling apologetically at the boy, she started to thank him. But he nodded right away and told her she was welcome. He asked her to go through the menu and call him or any other waiter when she decided on what to order.

She unfolded the menu and looked through it. BUDTaB seemed to have an array of appetizers, mostly Spanish and Middle Eastern snacks. She settled for four small-sized falafels and a medium-sized focaccia with a small bowl of hummus for dipping. She called for the waiter to put out her order with two glasses of sherry on the rocks.

Several minutes later as she tucked in the last of her falafel and drained the last drop of the wine, she agreed with herself that she had gained her composure.

She left her bill and a generous tip for the adept waiter under the saucer and moseyed along into the market for what she had come for. She walked into the market, letting herself be engulfed by the warm mill of the crowd. It was nice to be among people for a change.

Her first stop was a fruit and vegetable stall. She smiled at the broad woman inside the kiosk and started to look in her bag. She didn't want to put her umbrella down in case it got trampled on by the neverending crowd, so she held it in place in the crook of her right shoulder with her neck as she rummaged through her bag. Now, where had she put that list she had written?

"Here, let me help."

The umbrella was gently lifted from her neck by a large hand. She followed the hand to a smiling face of an old man and she smiled back in gratitude.

"Thank you so much," she said as she finally got hold of the sheet of paper. The man smiled in reply and let her reclaim her umbrella and walked on.

"Do you take credit cards?" she shouted to the woman to be heard over the din of the busy market.

"Yes," the woman said, nodding.

"Great." Everest cross-checked her scribbled list and picked out the stuff she needed. She paid for it and collected the large plastic bag the woman had packed her stuff in.

Then she visited more shops to cross stuff off her list. She was doing pretty well, because, in less than thirty minutes, she had crossed off more than half of her list. If things continued smoothly, she'd be done shopping in a few minutes and then she'd finally be able to go hire a truck or car to take her home.

A large cereal store up ahead caught her attention and she started towards it. A middle-aged woman was trying to lift a bag of rice onto a small push cart and Everest put down her stuff to help her with it.

"Thank you, dear," the beaming woman said in a frail voice then squinted at her. A cheerful smile broke out on her face. "You're a tourist?"

Everest wasn't sure if that was a question she was to answer to or just a statement. She smiled in reply.

"It's not really tourist season yet," the beaming woman said, sticking out a wrinkled hand. "I'm Mrs Rosenthal, but you can call me Sandy."

As Everest took her hand and shook it, she thought that perhaps she had misjudged the woman's age. She was definitely older than that and had kind brown eyes that crinkled as she smiled. Her greying dark blond hair was knotted at the back of her head in a French twist and a tartan-style scarf dangled around her neck. The woman strangely reminded her of her mother.

"I'm Everest, but you can call me Evie," she introduced herself.

"Pleasure," said Mrs Rosenthal. "Where do you stay now?"

"Uh, a small cottage at the end of town. Mrs Casss'," she explained.

"Oh." Recognition made the woman's facial features lift and warmth lit up her defined cheekbones. "That's just by the ranch," she exclaimed. "I work for the dear rancher, at his house, though."

"Oh." She had not seen her on her brief trip to the house. "That's really nice. You must be close to his wi-"

With a start, Everest realized she hadn't fully considered the fact that he could be married. It was just that he hadn't seemed married on first meeting him, from the way he interacted with his daughter. Besides, she was pretty sure a mother wouldn't have let her kid wander about empty houses and barefooted at that. She had pegged him for a single father or sharing custody or something.

But what if he was actually married, she thought sourly.

"Oh, no. She isn't. . . is. . ." A tiny cloud passed over the woman's face and was gone as quickly as it came. She smiled broadly and wiped down her hands on her hips. "Well, I've got to get going. I've got a little girl at the ice cream place down the road. Gotta get back before she buys down the whole place. Have a nice day, dear."

Everest watched as the woman pushed the cart out of the shop and vanished down the road. What was that about? What had she been about to say? She wasn't alive? Was sick? Gone?

She nibbled on her bottom lip, knowing it wasn't any of her business. She picked up her shopping and walked further into the shop to check out what to buy next.

~•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎~

It was barely twelve yet and the sun was already hotter than hell. As soon as the truck stopped, Mentor jumped down and took off his felt hat to fan his face.

"It's bloody hot," he complained.

The two ranch hands that had come with him got down as well, murmuring their agreement.

"I could swear the sun back at the ranch is a different one," the short, stocky guy said. He fanned his own face with a handkerchief.

"Where to first, boss?" he asked after the three of them had settled.

Mentor glanced about the busy market. It was a beautiful day, despite the burning sun. He could do a little shopping for Queen. He had been extremely busy in the past month so they hadn't been able to go out together much. Maybe he could get a few of her favourite things and surprise her. She loved surprises.

"First, we go grab a bite." He touched his flattened tummy. "Then, Rio, you take the hides to Brian's. We already negotiated." He shrugged. "Then we can meet at The Chucks' Retail to stock up on fodder." He glanced at his leather watch. "By twenty to one."

"Sounds like a plan."

Mentor only got a drink to-go at the small open restaurant he stopped by before he got a move on. He finally found what he had been looking for at a cosmetics stall. A box of scrunchies, each of different colours.

He smiled happily as he paid for it. Queen had always wanted one of those but he had only found ones in the same colours. He fingered one of the scrunchies and grinned. He could just imagine his daughter's delighted surprise when he presented it to her, the thought filled him with pleasure. That look was always priceless. Always.

He replaced the lid of the box and then let the plastic bag dangle in between his fingers. While still in the thought of cosmetics, he might as well stop by that beauty salon at the corner and get her those glitter lip gloss she had begged him for.

He was just passing by an open rice store when a familiar voice trickled into his ear. He slowed his stride and frowned, trying to place the voice. Where had he heard that voice before?

Unconsciously, he retraced his steps and walked into the store. The room was fairly packed with customers choosing from cereals to buy and the ones being attended to. But his eyes strayed to her immediately and he instantly realized where he knew the voice from.

Latent embarrassment heated up in his gut and slowly spread over his body as he remembered the last awkward encounter.

The lady -he was still yet to know her name- was turned slightly away from him and was smiling at something a flirty attendant was telling her and nodding. Mentor thought she glowed in that flowery white spring dress she had on and when she smiled again, he was struck by how beautiful the stranger was. She could easily dazzle a blind man. She looked to be of oriental descent with her slim long nose and lustrous bronze skin that seemed to stretch on forever. And the way her thick and long black hair fanned out behind her - it made him think of a strong, fierce queen protecting the fort of her kingdom.

Suddenly realising what he had been doing, Mentor swallowed past the bitter swell that had formed in the windpipe. His pulse knocked wildly in the hollow of his throat and a strange feeling seized him.

What the fuck was he doing anyway? Looking at a bloody stranger, a tourist at that. For real, when did all that start? He was not easily distracted, not even by gorgeous women, so why was this a change?

He swallowed again to drown out the loud thrum of his heartbeat in his throat. He had better get out of there now.

As his luck would have it, Hassan, the store owner at the counter spotted him just as he was about to turn away.

"Oi!" he called, his baritone voice carrying loud in the concrete room. "There's that your neighbour, the rancher," he said, in the girl's direction. "Oi, Mentor. I don't suppose you've met your pretty little neighbour. Have you?"

Mentor swallowed painfully and his pulse ratcheted up. He watched, wide-eyed as his 'pretty little neighbour' turned in his direction.

Their last awkward meeting flashed in his mind again and he wished he were anywhere but here.

Their eyes met.

Oh no.