“Oh my lands! Would you just look at those cukes!” Val, short for Valentino glanced appreciatively at the other vegetables displayed on Valerie’s Farmers’ market table. What was offered was impressive in color, size, and obvious freshness.

“I’m Val,” he said.

Valerie’s eyes momentarily shot to his. She withheld her own name, knowing that a degree of familiarity would be presumed. Valerie was not the flirtatious type. She hoped, though, that he not consider her rude.

 “Would you sack me up several of each? One bundle of radishes will do. Go heavy on the… are those English peas?”

“You know your vegetables,” Valerie said as she reached for a second bag.

“Oh, you can put them all in one bag. Here, you can put some in this one.” He handed her a bag containing a bundle of carrots from another vendor.

“You want more carrots?” she asked.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll save those I already bought for soup. Yours deserve a good glaze.”

“Do you cook?” Valerie asked.

Val hesitated, unwilling to admit he was an amateur chef, afraid of what she might think of him. He’d been through the scene before, women jealous that he could cook and might push them out of the kitchen. And conversely, women dismissed him as too feminine for their taste, though he lettered in three sports in high school and served four years in the Marine Corps.

“I have fun at it,” he finally answered. Paying with two twenties, he smiled until she smiled back. “Keep the change.” Lifting the sacks, he added, “Got my money’s worth and then some."

The next Saturday, he searched the Farmers’ Market for the good-looking lady who was nearly as tall as himself.

“There you are,” Val chimed enthusiastically. ‘Fraid I’d missed you. Did you just get here? I’ve…” He was going to say that he’d already searched the entire market for her, but thought better of it, fearing to be too forward.

“I had a flat tire.” Valerie held up her blackened hands showing smudges that failed to come clean despite handi-wipes.

“Oh my dear,” Val said, empathy dripping from his every pore.

“I had to off-load the produce to get the tire into the bed.”

Val groaned noises of commiseration. He looked behind Valerie and into her truck bed.

“A nail. And it looks like my spare might just barely make it to a tire shop.”

Val saw the left rear tire that he guessed might have 15 or 20 pounds of air. “Let me have your keys. I’ll take it and have it fixed and put back on while you take care of business.”

“Oh, I couldn’t do that.”

“Well, not until you told me your name. No, that wouldn’t be right.” Val smiled broadly, eliciting the same from Valerie.

“Valerie. My friends call me Val.” She watched for his reaction.

Val smiled. “Of course they do! Now, the keys before you’re stuck with two flats. And don’t worry. I’m insured.”

“I feel just awful letting you do this for me.”

“As long as your husband doesn’t mind…”

“No husband to mind.”

They both smiled at one another with their whole faces and bodies.

Nearly an hour later Val backed the truck into the slot behind Valerie’s table.

“That’s a new tire!”

They couldn’t fix the flat, something about the nail hole too close to the edge. They did fix the spare, but it’s about shot. Any less tread and they wouldn’t have. I’m sorry, I should’ve bought you two new ones. But…”

“No! You shouldn’t have, I…”

“You need a second new one, and then keep the right rear for your spare.”

Valerie nodded, a slight confusion overtaking her countenance. “I… I don’t have much cash on me. How much was it?”

“The paperwork is on your seat. I didn’t have your phone number. And I didn’t want to take all day, so… But don’t worry about it, I used plastic and the bill won’t come in for a month. I’m glad I could help.”

“Well, I sold out, but not before I held back some for you.”

Val reached for his wallet.

“Don’t be silly. Will next Saturday be all right?”

“Of course.”

Valerie fairly leaped into Val’s chest, hugging him as she might a long-lost friend. “Thank you.” She withdrew before Val could wrap his own arms around her. Valerie held out her hand.

“The keys are in the ignition.”

Valerie scrunched her eyes and glanced to her outstretched hand waiting for Val’s.

Shaking hands, Valerie thanked Val again, holding his hand a moment longer than a strict handshake required, her palm pressing Val’s, offering him sensuousness he’d not felt in decades.

Val and Val made a date out of the regular Saturday meetings throughout the summer months, enjoying conversation and coffee. With two Keurigs set up, one from each of their homes, Val took charge of selling coffee for a modest dollar per cup.

“I’m really going to miss your fresh produce, Val,” Val lamented.

“No need in that. I have a greenhouse. I usually only grow as much as I can use, but it wouldn’t be trouble at all to grow for two.” Valerie came just short of winking at Val.

Val nearly took it as a proposal of marriage, choking acceptance.

“Why don’t you follow me home? My place is only about ten minutes out of town. “I’ll show you the setup. You can tell me what you would like me to grow, and then you can help me make chicken vegetable lasagna. You eat chicken, don’t you?”

“Sure, I’m not opposed to any meat. I just love fruits and vegetables, but…”

“No buts. Store-bought lasagna pasta okay? We could make our own next time.” She looked to Val with a clear expression of hopefulness that there be a next time.

Val smiled warmly. “Store-bought will have to do… this time.” His grin was infectious.

Many afternoons at Valerie’s as well as several actual dates later, Val followed Valerie to the chicken yard helping her put the chickens up for the night. Walking back toward the house, Val took her hand, gently turning her to face him. “Val, will you marry me?”

Just as Val finished me and before Valerie had a chance to respond, an errant hen slammed into Valerie’s ankles, causing her to begin to fall backward. As quickly as he could, Val reached for her, grabbing where he could.

Valerie’s wig in Val’s hand, all he could do was stare in confusion and amazement as she slammed to the ground. Valerie’s false teeth propelled from her mouth into the air between them.

Dumbfounded, Val staggered, nearly falling himself, righted only by Valerie’s snatching the wig from his hand.

“Eh ah ai poppery,” Valerie managed, still on the ground, toothless and baldheaded, her expression an unreadable mix of excitement, shock, and humiliation. “I have to reply properly,” she thought she’d said, though she would have chosen different words had she a moment to select them.

Val heard, “Get off my property!”

Stumbling his way from the yard and around the house to his car like a crazy man, he fled before Valerie could utter another word.