There was a sign at the side of the road: Abbot’s Organic Produce. A car was pulling off the road in front of Wyatt as he crossed, tires crunching on dirt as it pulled in out the front of the little open-air stall. The stall was packed with open crates of fruit and vegetables, and also jars of honey from a guy a little farther up in the hills who kept a bunch of hives.
“Hi, Wyatt!” Patty called out to him as he approached. Patty was an older woman with gray hair that she wore in long braids. She was wearing a patchwork skirt and a faded Jimi Hendrix shirt today, and a purple crystal that hung from a leather thong around her neck. “How are you on this beautiful Saturday morning, my sweet, sweet boy?”
Wyatt flashed her a grin. “Yes, I have cookies for you.”
Patty raised her arms in a silent cheer. “I would have called you a sweet boy anyway!”