scared of this man and what he might do to her and her family. Today, she had a velvet purse at her waist and a boatload of confidence. “Please take this chit to Johan Schmidt the moneylender, sir. He can vouch for us and will reimburse you for your lost inventory.”
The man stared at the small coin in his oversized hand. Sunday waited for him to open his mouth and cut her down to size. She clasped her hands together to hide their shaking ... and watched as the pieman’s color faded back to its normal ruddiness. He pulled the hat off his very bald head and clasped it to his aproned chest. “Thank ye, milady. Very kind of ye. I’ll visit him straightaway.”
Oddities she could handle aplenty, but this went beyond anything she knew. Were the very rich always treated with such courtesy? She and her brother deserved to be yelled at by this man, no matter how much money they had in their purse. Be that as it may, she was thrilled to have avoided confrontation. She silently thanked the gods, and then pulled Trix along to find Friday. She paused to scan the crowd for her sister’s telltale skirts.
“It was an accident.” The mischievous glint in Trix’s eyes betrayed him, as did the syrup encrusted in his hair.
Sunday shook her head. “You look a mess.”
He ran a finger along his cheek and sucked it. “A delicious mess.” From a pocket, he offered her a slightly mashed pie. “For you, milady.”
In the excitement, Sunday had forgotten the hunger that had threatened to tear her apart. She took the pie gratefully. “Find a way to clean up,” she implored him. “Explaining you to Mama has only gotten me in trouble lately.” He agreed, and begrudgingly she left him on his own again.
She found Friday gaping at an enormous array of ribbons. They hung from the stall in a million rainbows and swayed mesmerizingly in the wind, flashing and twinkling in the sunlight like fairydust. For the first time that day, Sunday was eager to help her sister.
The young, black-haired shopgirl happily folded their selections carefully into bags. Friday and Sunday bought more ribbons than they could possibly need. When Sunday made to pay for everything, the shopgirl beckoned her forward with smiling, deep violet eyes. Sunday had never noticed before how many people at the market had similar eyes; no doubt they were somehow all related.
“My family appreciates your custom, milady,” the girl said as she accepted the chit. “More than you know.” She pulled a bright blue ribbon down from the stall roof. “Please accept this as a gift with our thanks.”
Sunday lifted her hair so that the girl could tie the ribbon around her neck. She was glad that she finally had something by which to remember this day, something she didn’t have to feel guilty about buying, though she secretly hoped the girl included its price when she reported back to the moneylender. Sunday touched the silken strand at her throat reverently. “I will treasure it always.”
“It matches your eyes.” The shopgirl bowed her head. Sunday politely returned the nod, and then ran to catch up with her siblings.
Panser was at the moneylender’s stall; upon seeing them, the apprentice went to fetch his master. Schmidt appeared at once, smiling and rubbing his belly like a cat just finishing his cream. Sunday held her breath, anticipating the bargaining they’d put off that morning. “I trust you’ve had enough time to confer with your colleagues,” she said bravely.
“Indeed I have.” Schmidt chuckled. “Indeed I have. You still have the purse?”
Sunday placed the velvet bag of chits on the counter. She and her brother and sister had hardly put a dent in their quantity, but Sunday now wondered how preciously the man would value each. She watched carefully as Schmidt counted out the number of chits, placing them in uneven stacks. He had not counted them out before giving her the bag, and she scolded herself for not having done so the minute she got
The man stared at the small coin in his oversized hand. Sunday waited for him to open his mouth and cut her down to size. She clasped her hands together to hide their shaking ... and watched as the pieman’s color faded back to its normal ruddiness. He pulled the hat off his very bald head and clasped it to his aproned chest. “Thank ye, milady. Very kind of ye. I’ll visit him straightaway.”
Oddities she could handle aplenty, but this went beyond anything she knew. Were the very rich always treated with such courtesy? She and her brother deserved to be yelled at by this man, no matter how much money they had in their purse. Be that as it may, she was thrilled to have avoided confrontation. She silently thanked the gods, and then pulled Trix along to find Friday. She paused to scan the crowd for her sister’s telltale skirts.
“It was an accident.” The mischievous glint in Trix’s eyes betrayed him, as did the syrup encrusted in his hair.
Sunday shook her head. “You look a mess.”
He ran a finger along his cheek and sucked it. “A delicious mess.” From a pocket, he offered her a slightly mashed pie. “For you, milady.”
In the excitement, Sunday had forgotten the hunger that had threatened to tear her apart. She took the pie gratefully. “Find a way to clean up,” she implored him. “Explaining you to Mama has only gotten me in trouble lately.” He agreed, and begrudgingly she left him on his own again.
She found Friday gaping at an enormous array of ribbons. They hung from the stall in a million rainbows and swayed mesmerizingly in the wind, flashing and twinkling in the sunlight like fairydust. For the first time that day, Sunday was eager to help her sister.
The young, black-haired shopgirl happily folded their selections carefully into bags. Friday and Sunday bought more ribbons than they could possibly need. When Sunday made to pay for everything, the shopgirl beckoned her forward with smiling, deep violet eyes. Sunday had never noticed before how many people at the market had similar eyes; no doubt they were somehow all related.
“My family appreciates your custom, milady,” the girl said as she accepted the chit. “More than you know.” She pulled a bright blue ribbon down from the stall roof. “Please accept this as a gift with our thanks.”
Sunday lifted her hair so that the girl could tie the ribbon around her neck. She was glad that she finally had something by which to remember this day, something she didn’t have to feel guilty about buying, though she secretly hoped the girl included its price when she reported back to the moneylender. Sunday touched the silken strand at her throat reverently. “I will treasure it always.”
“It matches your eyes.” The shopgirl bowed her head. Sunday politely returned the nod, and then ran to catch up with her siblings.
Panser was at the moneylender’s stall; upon seeing them, the apprentice went to fetch his master. Schmidt appeared at once, smiling and rubbing his belly like a cat just finishing his cream. Sunday held her breath, anticipating the bargaining they’d put off that morning. “I trust you’ve had enough time to confer with your colleagues,” she said bravely.
“Indeed I have.” Schmidt chuckled. “Indeed I have. You still have the purse?”
Sunday placed the velvet bag of chits on the counter. She and her brother and sister had hardly put a dent in their quantity, but Sunday now wondered how preciously the man would value each. She watched carefully as Schmidt counted out the number of chits, placing them in uneven stacks. He had not counted them out before giving her the bag, and she scolded herself for not having done so the minute she got
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