Errands in Green Lake.

[ikissdhimbck]

It was only five days hence the annual summer picnic in Green Lake.  The whole town would come together to play games, dance, sing, and swim in the lake, and somewhere amidst the festivities there would be tantalizing foods of all varieties and flavors, served in contests and awarded with ribbons and prizes.

It was this latter activity that sent Katherine out this afternoon on an errand to the general store for ingredients.  Her nose was in a book, and it was by this grace she missed the scowls of the other women in town as she walked past.  Katherine had attended the town picnics before, but this would be her first picnic as a bonafide resident of Green Lake.  Already, petitions were being made to award her with a special ribbon for her spiced peaches, because the women claimed it “wasn’t a fair contest, seeing as how she wins every year.”

Even if Katherine hadn’t the book with her, she wouldn’t have minded too much the lingering stares.

The bells on the front door jangled as Katherine stepped inside, looking up from The City in the Sea long enough only to smile and greet Mr. Pike, who owned the general store, and Mrs. Parker and Tennyson respectively, who were doing some shopping of their own.

As she made her way down the aisles, she would look up from her book, pluck something from the store shelves, and rest it in the pale wooden basket hung over her arm.

“Help ya find anything, Miss Katherine?” Mr. Pike asked.  He was a tall, gangly man in his early forties, hairline already receding behind a wide, shiny forehead.  He smiled, and when he did so his upper lip disappeared beneath a dark, shaggy mustache.

“Yes, Mr. Pike,” Katherine smiled, then surreptitiously glanced about and lowered her voice.  She did this mostly to intrigue the older women in the general store, all ears for any secret they could gather.  “Have you any of the spices I asked for last week?”

Mr. Pike smiled proudly.  “Just in this Tuesday.  Cloves and coriander and—”

“That’s fine, Mr. Pike,” she interrupted kindly, following him to where the spices were.  She watched Hattie Parker turn to Mrs. Tennyson and mouth “Coriander?” as she passed, forcing her to bite back a smirk.

When she had gathered everything she needed, she placed her basket on the counter near the register and allowed Mr. Pike to tally up her goods.  The two women came up to stand behind her.

“Oh, Katherine,” Mrs. Tennyson cried, sweetness in her voice.  “Have you any young gentleman suitors bidding your company for the town picnic?”

“Kathy Smart’s boy is around your age, isn’t he?” Mrs. Parker intoned.

“I wouldn’t know,” Katherine replied with the same sweetness in her voice as the two older women.  “I’m afraid I’m not well-acquainted with Robert Smart.”

“Ooh, but what about the Walker boy?” Mrs. Tennyson asked, placing a knobby hand on Katherine’s arm.  “He’s certainly a fine boy.”

“A fine boy indeed,” Hattie nodded her head.  “And the fact his family owns most of the land ‘round this area doesn’t hurt, either!”  Both women laughed.

Katherine chuckled politely.  “I’m afraid I’m not very acquainted with Charles Walker, either.”

That was a lie.  In fact, she had spoken with him on several occasions, and generally found the man insufferable.  The children in her class called him “Trout.” 

“Why?” Katherine had asked them one day. 

“His feet!” they cried.  “They smell like dead fish!” 

Even now Katherine had to be careful she didn’t call him “Trout” in front of Mrs. Tennyson and Parker.

“Well, deary, it seems as though he has cast his gaze upon you,” Mrs. Tennyson smirked, inclining her head to the picture window behind them.  Katherine turned to look over her shoulder.  Across the street, at the cobbler's, stood Trout.  When Katherine’s gaze fell upon him he cast a toothy grin her way and waved a hand.  She quickly turned back to the two older women and smiled patiently.

“So it would seem.”

When everything was paid for she politely excused herself from the conversation, thanking Mr. Pike and picking up her basket and book once more.  The bells on the door jangled again as she exited.  Trout was still staring at her.

Swiftly she reopened her book and pored over the pages, walking at a healthy clip away from the general store.  She prayed Trout wouldn’t follow her this time.

 

.