“Would you look at that,” Ailsa exclaimed wheeling her car wide and sweeping into the front most space at the market. Her long dark auburn pony tail bobbed at the sudden stop of the car and she flung the door open, triumphant smile on her slender face.
The market wasn’t big, but it was busy. Men and women carrying bags and baskets full of groceries on the way out passing others on the way in.
“No doubt, that’s a jammy spot right there.” Libby popped her door open and swung her long pale legs out. The girls walked the short way through the lot beneath gray skies into the market.
Ailsa picked up a green plastic shopping basket, hung it from a slender forearm and the girls made their way to the produce. They immediately began filling the basket with the ripest of fruits.
“Look at that. I told you that this place has the best produce in town, didn’t I?
Ailsa, distracted by the the bright red strawberries, and the huge sweet potatoes, didn’t answer.
Well didn’t I?”
“You did. And you were right. We’ll get our restaurant on the map now, I know it. Quality ingredients make all the difference, and this place has them. Do you think we can get a discount since we’ll surely be buying lots?”
Libby screwed up her eyes. “I don’t know. You’d have to talk with Harry.” She pointed to a man in a bloody butcher’s coat behind the meat counter.
“He’s the owner?”
“And not the friendliest either.”
“There’s nothing for it. Besides, I’m feeling jammy today.” Aisla marched over to the meat counter and stuck out her hand to greet Harry.
Harry looked down on the diminutive girl, reached out a bloody hand and shook hers like a true gentleman. “How can I help you? I am Harry, the owner of this fine establishment.”
Aisla felt the sick rise in her throat as she looked at her blood stained hand, but pushed it back and resisted the urge to wipe her hand on her pants. She had cut meat before anyway, what chef hadn’t had blood on their hands, but somehow this was different.
“It’s good to meet you. I am the chef at the restaurant across town, Aisla’s Freshery. You have the best produce of anywhere I have seen. Might we strike a bargain?”
“You think I need to bargain with you? Am I so desperate to sell that I must do it at a discount? Surely you do not believe that you are my only customer.”
Things were not going the way Aisla had hoped. Perhaps her luck had run out. “Surely not, but I do believe that I could be your best. Might we talk about it?”
“No. I am a busy man. You want produce, you pay the price. That is all.” Harry turned and walked through the double doors into the back of the store.
Libby walked up beside Aisla who was left standing at the counter alone in silence. “Didn’t go as planned?”
“Not at all. I still want the groceries though. Looks like I’ll be paying full price until my luck returns though.
Short Tuesday is a little something I try to do on Tuesdays! Sorry, couldn’t help it. Anyway, I take a word, a word like jammy and try my best to write a short story with it. The words typically come from Dictionary.com’s word of the day e-mails that show up in my inbox every morning around 8:12am, but aren’t limited to them.
I hope you enjoyed reading my Short! Feel free to come back anytime.