Harlequin Love Inspired March 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 by Patrice Lewis (best large ereader .txt) 📕

“Having you here is sure useful,” he murmured as the crowds grew thick. “It’s nice to have another pair of hands to help out.”

She flushed with pleasure, even at the term useful. “I’m still learning,” she warned him. “I’ve never worked with customers before.”

“Then you’re a natural. Keep it up.”

His praise was all she needed to redouble her efforts. Watching Levy sell his farm produce was a revelation to Jane. His booth was thronged almost from the beginning, and he easily outsold nearly every other vendor in the park. It was easy to see why. Unlike most Amish men, he was not reserved, but animated. He joked, he chatted, he bantered. She estimated half his customers were regulars, but several times she noticed people stopped at the booth because they wondered why it was so crowded.

And she knew it would have been extraordinarily difficult for him to function this way without someone watching Mercy.

Jane stayed busy too. When Mercy was quiet—either tucked in her sling or resting in the cradle basket—she helped weigh and bag produce, make change and restock the crates and baskets with fresh food. But she lacked Levy’s easy way with strangers, especially Englischers.

During a rare quiet moment, she collapsed on the chair. “How do you do it?” She gulped water from a jar. “You behave like you’ve had classes in salesmanship.”

“In a way I have.” He bit into a sandwich. “When I first started selling here, my booth was right next to an older man—an Englischer—who was retiring and moving to Florida. His name was Robert and he was wonderful with customers. He wasn’t pushy, he was friendly. I watched him and learned. It’s a little difficult for me—I’m not a salesman by nature—but this is how I make my living, and if I’m going to sell produce, I have to sell it in the very best way possible. It puts me way outside my comfort zone, for sure and certain. I’m grateful to Gott for putting my booth next to Robert’s. If I’d been anywhere else, I never would have watched him in action and seen how well he did.”

“Did he know you were watching him?”

“Of course. In fact, he spent the whole summer coaching me. He gave me pointers and tips for improving my sales. I’d never done anything like this before, so it was a steep learning curve. But I find it tiring. By the end of the day, I’m wiped out and need a whole week to recover.”

“I can understand that.” The crowds were hard for Jane to get used to as well. “I’m surprised this little town has so many people coming to its farmer’s market.”

“They advertise farther away, in many communities around here. I’ve had people tell me they drive an hour to get here so they can stock up on their week’s groceries. The success of this little market far surpasses the boundaries of the town, for sure and certain. The people who run the market know what they’re doing.”

Their brief respite ended when more people stopped by to browse the produce, and Levy’s booth stayed busy until late in the afternoon.

“What did you do with Mercy last week?” she asked at one point, after the baby woke up from a nap and cried until Jane fed her again.

“The teenage youngie I hired watched her,” he admitted. “I didn’t have a choice. You can see how busy I am on market days. They’re $3.99 a pound,” he told a customer, smiling as he sold the last of his raspberries. “But having you here changes the whole dynamic, even with the boppli. I’m not nearly as stressed.”

Jane quivered. His gratitude seemed to hold a note of something more, something deeper than just recognition that she was a useful sales associate. Or was she imagining it?

The pressure of customer demands didn’t ease until just before the market was due to close. But Levy seemed in no hurry to break down and pack up any remaining inventory. “Always be the last to close,” he explained to Jane. “That’s another trick of the trade Robert taught me. You’d be surprised how many times people want to make one last purchase before they leave for the day.”

This proved true when not one, but three late customers cleaned out the rest of Levy’s tomatoes, corn and onions. Other booths were in a state of disassembly, but Levy’s little store was still open for business.

With the clock edging toward 5:30, a weary Jane laid Mercy in her cradle basket and helped Levy collect what small amount of produce remained unsold.

“I’ll go hitch up Maggie and get the wagon,” he said.

Left alone, she stacked what she could and repacked their food hamper. After a few minutes, Levy guided his horse and wagon nearby, and they began disassembling the booth components and loading them into the wagon.

Finally they started for home. “That was intense.” Jane sighed.

“Ja. I think it’s more intense because they only hold the farmer’s market on Saturdays. So many of their vendors are Amish and we won’t work on the Sabbath, and people know that, so everyone crowds in to make their purchases on that one day.”

“Do you like selling there?” Jane waved to another departing vendor.

“It’s not a question of like, it’s a question of practicality. It’s convenient.” Levy stopped at an intersection, then guided the horse through. “During the summer and early fall, I earn almost my entire year’s income from the farmer’s market or Community Supported Agriculture subscriptions. That means I have buyers who take excess produce every week.”

“And during the rest of the year, you supplement your income with accounting?”

“Ja. It gets very busy before tax day, so I do a lot of bookkeeping over the winter. It’s been a precarious income, but this is the first year I’ve done better financially.”

“Seeing how hard you work makes me feel guilty for accepting money to nanny the baby.” She hugged the quiet baby resting in her arms.

“You work hard too. I