Chapter 1
Pike Place Market is a tourist trap on a regular day. Combine it with last-minute holiday shopping and an extremely mild, sunny weekend—almost unheard of in December—and you are in the busiest nine acres on a Saturday afternoon in Seattle.
Sebastian’s jacket is shoved into one of Marin’s shopping totes, but still, he’s sweaty. His little hand keeps slipping out of hers every time he yanks too hard, trying to pull them in the direction he’s determined to go.
“Mommy, I want a lollipop,” he says for the second time. He’s tired, and getting cranky, and what he really needs is a nap. But Marin has one final present to buy. She prides herself on giving thoughtful, personal gifts. Her four-year-old son couldn’t care less about Christmas shopping. Sebastian believes Santa is going to bring all his presents, so in this moment, sugar is the only thing he’s interested in.
“Bash, please, five more minutes,” she says, exasperated. “And then we’ll get your treat. But you have to be good. Deal?”
It’s a fair negotiation, and he stops whining. There’s a candy store in the market. They know it well; they’ve been many times. It’s unapologetically high-brow, and while the store makes all kinds of sweet things, it’s best known for its “bean-to-chocolate handmade artisanal French crème truffles.” The storefront is painted Tiffany blue, its pretentious name stenciled in elegant gold cursive across the windows: La Douceur Parisienne. No item inside costs less than four bucks, and the oversize lollipop Sebastian wants—the one with the rainbow swirls—is five dollars.
Yes, five whole dollars for a lollipop. Marin is well aware of how insane that is. In Sebastian’s defense, he wouldn’t even know such a thing existed if on previous trips she hadn’t dragged him into the candy store for the chocolates, which, in all honesty, are a goddamned delight. She tells herself that it’s okay to spoil him once in a while, and anyway, everything at La Douceur Parisienne is made with pure organic cane sugar and locally sourced honey. Derek, on the other hand, refuses to buy into his wife’s reasoning. He thinks she’s trying to justify turning their little boy into an uppity eater, same as she is.
But Derek’s not here. Derek’s somewhere on First Avenue, enjoying a beer in a sports pub and watching the Huskies play, while Marin handles the last of the shopping with their rapidly tiring four-year-old.
Her pocket vibrates. The market is too loud for her to hear her phone, but she can feel it, and she lets go of her son’s hand to reach for it. Maybe it’s Derek and the game’s over already. She checks the call display; it’s not her husband. The last thing she wants to do is chat, but it’s Sal. She can’t not pick up.
“Bash, stay close,” she tells her son as she hits Accept on her phone. “Hey there.”
She cradles the phone between her shoulder and ear, thinking about how great it would be to have AirPods for moments like this, then remembers she doesn’t want to be one of those asshole moms walking around wearing AirPods.
“Everything okay? How’s your mother?” She grabs Sebastian’s hand again, listening as her oldest friend recounts his stressful morning. Sal’s mother is recovering from hip surgery. Someone bumps into her, knocking her purse and tote bag off her shoulder. She gives their back a dirty look as they pass without apologizing. Tourists.
“Mommy, stop talking.” Sebastian tugs her hand, his voice whiny again. “You said lollipop. The big one. With the swirls.”
“Bash, what did I say? You have to wait. We have other things to do first.” To her phone, Marin says, “Sal, sorry, can I call you back a bit later? We’re at the market and it’s insane in here.”
She sticks the phone back her in pocket and reminds Sebastian again of their deal. The deal thing is relatively new for both of them, having begun when he started refusing baths a couple of months ago. “If you take a bath, we’ll read an extra book at bedtime,” she’d said, and the negotiation worked like a charm. It ended up being a win for both of them. Bath times now go more smoothly, and afterward, with his sweet-scented hair resting against her cheek, she reads aloud favorites from her own childhood. Curious George and Goodnight Moon are always in the rotation. The bedtime ritual is her favorite, and she’s dreading the day when cuddles will be refused and her son will prefer to read his own books in bed by himself.
For now, though, Sebastian is quiet when she suggests he might not get a lollipop at all if he whines one more time. She’s as tired and hot as Bash is, and also hungry and severely undercaffeinated. Sugar—and coffee—will have to wait. They’re meeting Derek at the world’s oldest Starbucks, which is right beside the candy store, but there are no treats for either of them until the last of the shopping is done.
The last gift on her list is for Sadie, the manager of Marin’s downtown salon. She’s six months pregnant and hinting that she might quit work to be a stay-at-home mom. While Marin respects any woman’s choice to do what’s best for herself and her family, she would really hate to lose her. Sadie had mentioned seeing a first edition of Beatrix Potter’s The Tale of Benjamin Bunny in the vintage bookstore on the market’s lower level. If it’s still there, Marin will buy it for her. She’s been a valuable employee for ten years, and she deserves something extra special. Also, maybe it will remind Sadie how much she loves her boss—and her job—and she’ll choose to come back after her maternity leave.
Sebastian yanks again, but Marin holds on firmly to his hand and directs him into the bookstore, where she’s relieved to learn they still have the Potter first edition. She manages to slip a couple of Franklin the Turtle books onto the counter as she’s paying. As they head back to the upper level, her phone vibrates again. A text, this time.
Game’s over. It’s Derek, thank God. She could use the extra hands. Heading your way. Where you guys at?
She feels Sebastian’s sticky little hand slip out of hers. It’s okay; she needs both hands to text back. In any case, her little boy is right beside her, keeping up with her brisk stride for once, his arm pressing against her leg as they head at a decidedly quicker pace out onto the street toward the candy store. A promise is a promise, though she can admit that the thought of a chocolate raspberry truffle melting in her mouth makes it easier to make good on her word.
Heading to the fancy candy store, she texts back. And then Starbucks. Want anything?
Tacos, her husband replies. I’m starving. Meet you at the food trucks instead?
Marin grimaces. She’s not a fan of those food truck tacos, or street food of any kind. Last time she ate a taco here, she got sick.
No bueno, she types. Why don’t we stop at Fénix and grab a couple of pulled pork sandwiches on the way home? Much better meat.
Hungry NOW, Derek replies. Need something to tide me over. And baby, I’ll give you better meat later tonight, if you’re good.
She rolls her eyes. She has friends who complain their husbands never flirt with them anymore. Hers never stops. Fine. Get your greasy taco, but you owe me, big guy.
Okay good because I’m already in line. His reply comes with a winking emoji. Meet you in a few. I’ll get Bash a churro.
She’s about to veto the fried dessert when it occurs to her that she can no longer feel Sebastian against her leg. She looks up from her phone, adjusting the bag that’s getting heavier by the minute. Then she looks down again, and around. “Bash? Sebastian?”
He’s nowhere near her. On reflex she stops walking, causing someone to run into her from behind.
“I hate it when people just stop,” the man mutters to his companion, making his way around her with a huff louder than it needs to be.
She doesn’t care. She can’t see her son anymore, and she’s entering panic mode. Craning her neck, she peers through the throngs of locals and tourists, who all seem to be moving through the market in packs. Sebastian can’t have gone far. Her eyes dart everywhere, searching for any glimpse of her little boy with his dark hair, so similar in color and texture to her own. He’s wearing a brown-and-white reindeer sweater, a handknit gift from a longtime client of the salon, which Sebastian loves so much he’s insisted on wearing it nearly every day this past week. It looks adorable on him, with cute little ears made of faux fur that stick out above the buttons for the eyes and nose.
She can’t spot him anywhere. No reindeer. No Sebastian.
She pushes more aggressively through the crowd, spinning in different directions, feeling weighed down by her purse and their coats and the overstuffed shopping tote. She calls out his name. “Sebastian! Sebastian!”
Other market patrons are beginning to notice, but most don’t do anything other than offer a quick glance in her direction as they continue on their way. The market is extra crowded, so loud she can barely hear herself think. She unwittingly migrates toward the seafood counter, where three burly fishermen dressed in bloodstained overalls are bantering back and forth to the delight of the crowd gathered to watch them toss fresh salmon at each other like footballs.
“Sebastian!” She’s reached full-blown panic. In her hand, her phone vibrates. It’s Derek with another text; he’s about to order at the food truck, and he wants to know one final time if she wants anything. The text is unreasonably annoying. She doesn’t want a fucking taco, she wants her son.
“Sebastian!” she shrieks at the top of her lungs. She’s gone way past panic mode and is nearing hysteria, and she’s sure she’s starting to look crazy because people are now watching her with equal parts concern and fear.
An older woman with coiffed silver hair approaches her. “Ma’am, can I help you? Did you lose your child?”
Copyright © 2020 by Jennifer Hillier
