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

have the hospital bills to pay off, so I want to learn what other things besides produce sell. Your jam is selling so well that I’m thinking it’s time to go beyond just fruits and vegetables.”

Jane chuckled. “So you want me to be an undercover spy.”

He smiled. “Exactly.”

“I’d be happy to. I’ll wait until the crowds are thickest, and I’ll see what people are buying the most of.”

“Danke.”

The next few hours were busy. Following the unspoken pattern from the last few weekends, he set up the booth while Jane unloaded crates of produce. Once the booth was assembled, she joined him in stocking the display units.

“Here, you might like this.” He held up a hand-lettered sign. “I made it last night.”

“‘Fresh Homemade Raspberry Jam,’” Jane read out loud. “‘Meet the Expert Jam-Maker in Person.’” Her eyes crinkled in amusement. “Do you think it will help?”

“Can’t hurt.” He grinned and hung the sign over the jars of ruby-red jam.

Then, as customers started trickling and then flooding the market, he switched on his consummate salesman personality.

“It’s like you become a whole different man,” Jane said to him during a lull.

“What do you mean?”

“When customers come into the booth, it’s like you flip a switch. You’re teasing and talkative, but without being obnoxious or pushy.”

So she’d noticed. Levy couldn’t help but be pleased. “Do you wish I could stay that way all the time?”

“No. It’s effective while selling something, but it’s not who you are. I… I like the other man better. The real you.” She looked away, her cheeks turning pink.

A group of customers entered the booth and distracted him. He began to talk with them, while thinking about Jane’s shy blush. He found he liked the idea of making her blush.

* * *

Jane stayed in the back of the booth, keeping Mercy in her sling unless she had to feed or diaper her, and watched as fruits and vegetables disappeared with magical speed. Levy had to constantly restock his inventory.

She hadn’t meant to reveal that she liked the real Levy. The words just came out. She was glad when some customers had distracted him. Least said, soonest mended, as her mother always observed.

At a time when Mercy was sleeping in her basket and the crowds were at their heaviest, Levy gave her a nod and she slipped out of the booth. She avoided the Amish booths because she knew they sold similar items, but she was curious about the Englisch booths.

It was an eye-opener. Creative entrepreneurs sold everything from baked goods to soaps to knitted items to crafts, even gourmet dog biscuits.

Several items caught her eye as something Levy could do. She saw gift baskets packed with edible goodies, both fresh and baked, which sold briskly.

And eggs. Why wasn’t Levy selling eggs? She saw cartons of farm-fresh eggs in nearly every bag a customer carried.

And potted plants. Jane saw a booth selling potted herbs that was busy with customers.

And baked goods. Cookies, breads, rolls, muffins, cupcakes and other items sold well.

And cut flowers. Women bought them in bulk.

And packages of dried herbs. Jane knew Levy grew some herbs, but he didn’t sell any. Why not?

And dried glass gem corn. Jane knew this variety grew well in Indiana. People seemed to like it for decorative purposes. Levy didn’t have any growing, but perhaps next year…

Her mind buzzed with the potential of how Levy could expand his sales. If he had hospital bills to pay off, he could put a lot more items up for sale and earn more money.

She returned to the booth in time to help him handle another surge of customers. “Yes, those are $2.99 a pound,” she told a lady, slipping behind the table. She paused to check on Mercy, who slept soundly in her carrier basket, and turned back to the customer.

To her surprise, his signage drawing attention to the “Expert Jam-Maker” had garnered much more attention than she’d anticipated. Many people, mostly Englisch women, asked her how she made it. Jane was floored. Who didn’t know how to make raspberry jam?

But she explained the steps to dozens of women as well as a few men over the course of the day. And the jars of jam disappeared until there were only two left.

And those final jars were snapped up by a grandmotherly woman late in the afternoon. She exclaimed over the jam and told Levy how much she used to enjoy making preserves with her mother and grandmother.

“Come back in a couple of weeks when the blueberries are ripe,” Levy told her. “Jane makes blueberry jam that simply melts in your mouth.”

“I will!” The woman tucked the jam into a canvas bag. “I don’t do a lot of canning anymore, so I’ll look forward to it.”

After the happy customer departed, Jane eyed Levy. “You’ve never tasted my blueberry jam.”

“Nein, but can you tell me it won’t be anything but delicious?”

She laughed. “Well, I have to admit your sign worked. You sold seventy-five jars of jam!”

For the rest of the afternoon, sales were brisk and Levy seemed pleased as one item after another sold out. As was his usual custom, Levy was the last booth to break down at the end of the day, and he netted two extra sales as a result.

“Whew.” With the wagon packed and the horse hitched up, Levy slumped as he directed the animal toward home. “This is why I look forward to the Sabbath. I’m always so tired by the end of farmer’s market day.”

“And I’m about to make you even more tired.”

“What do you mean? Are you talking about your scouting expedition this afternoon?”

“Ja. There are many things you shouldn’t even think about selling. A lot of vendors do, as you put it, ‘the buy-and-sell.’ Obviously there are no oranges grown in Indiana,” she joked.

He chuckled. “Ja, I hope the vendors aren’t trying to pass those off as what they grew themselves.”

“And several booths sold things like crafts and homemade soaps. I assume you’re not interested in competing.”

“No. I don’t have