Page 92 of Seasons of Love
“Are you ready?” I ask, and she holds out her hands to get picked up.
Florrie finds a lucky parking space in the shade, and we walk the rest of the way to the fair. This is a monthly event in Stillwater, and it’s becoming bigger and bigger each year.
Sara falls asleep in the car and wakes up a little cranky when I move her to the stroller, staring at me like I’m not her most favorite person.
I’m just happy looking at all the beautiful things people can create. It seems there are some people a little more talented than Ethel with crochet because we see a stand that sells anything and everything crocheted.
“I never had much patience to sit around doing that sort of thing,” Florrie says. “My Tony used to say I had ants in my pants. Couldn’t sit around.”
I can believe that. When Florrie isn’t looking after Sara, she’s always walking to stay fit or working in her yard doing something or another.
We continue our way around the fair. Just because I can’t buy anything doesn’t mean I can’t look or appreciate the effort and skill that goes into a lot of these crafts.
I particularly like the stand selling plants growing in recycled stuff. There’s a half-dome made from recycled plastic growing a spider plant. It looks pretty and easy to look after. It will look great in someone’s home.
“Oh look, Milo. Aren’t those precious?”
I turn to see what Florrie is pointing at. “That’s Arlo’s stand. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
We walk over, and as usual, Arlo crouches by the stroller to say hi to Sara.
“Hello, princess. Don’t you look stunning.” He says.
“Florrie, this is Arlo. He makes the most beautiful wings for children to wear on their back, like butterflies, bees, anything kids want, but he also does other pieces of art.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Florrie,” he says, taking Florrie farther inside the stand to show her some of his pieces.
We’re in the shade, so I take out the water bottle to see if Sara’s thirsty. She takes it happily without fuss, drinking until she’s had enough. Even though she mostly drinks formula, she’s starting to have some water. My baby girl is growing up too fast.
I wave one of her snacks in front of her to see if she’s hungry, and she takes it immediately.
“All right, all right, little Miss Impatient,” I say to her.
“Is that your baby?”
It doesn’t surprise me to see Ava at the fair with Arlo. She’s Arlo’s boyfriend’s eight-year-old daughter, and she’s as sweet as she is smart.
She’s wearing her ladybug wings Arlo made for her.
“Yes, she is. Her name is Sara.”
“That’s a pretty name. Do you have a wife or a husband?” she asks.
“Ava,” Arlo says from where he’s standing with Florrie.
“Sorry, Daddy Arlo,” she answers but looks at me expectantly.
I smile and whisper. “No, I don’t have a husband or a boyfriend.”
Ava’s forehead crinkles as if she’s thinking about a complicated problem. I notice Sara is about to drop half her now-soggy snack on her dress and catch it just in time.
Look at that, and I was even bad at sports at school. Who’d have thought I’d suddenly get Spiderman reflexes with the birth of a baby?
“I know!” Ava says, pointing her finger up. “My teacher, Mr. Bradford. He doesn’t have a husband or a boyfriend. I know because my best friend, Megan, who was in my class, told me. Anyway, I think you and my teacher, Mr. Bradford, should get married.”
I stare at her, dumbfounded. As she waves her hand in front of my face.
“Hello? Didn’t you hear me? I said you should marry Mr. Brad—” As if by magic, Arlo appears behind Ava, silencing her with his hand, which is just as well because in the stand next to Arlo’s, I see Mr. Bradford—Ellis—with his sister and her kids.
