Chapter Fifteen G: The Missing Stall
The first warning came from a woman carrying a crate of ceramic bowls.
Her name was Ruth Ellery, and she had driven three hours because the market had promised a corner stall near the main entrance.
When she reached the hall, she found a man unloading bicycle parts into the space she had reserved.
The man showed her a confirmation with the same number.
Ruth stood between the two displays, staring at the papers while shoppers stepped around her.
Priya arrived with a measuring tape and a clipboard.
She checked the number on the floor, then the colored bands attached to the exhibitors’ badges.
Ruth’s badge was orange, but the man selling bicycle parts wore a blue one.
“Both of you were told the truth about your payment,
” Priya said.
“Neither of you was told the truth about the room.”
Ruth asked whether that meant she should take her bowls home.
Priya shook her head and led her to a temporary table beside the windows.
“You can sell here today, and I’ll refund the difference between the spaces,” she said.
Ruth set down the crate without opening it.
“I lost a whole weekend like this six years ago,” she said.
Evan, who had been carrying extension cords past the entrance, stopped when he heard her.
“At the first festival?” he asked.
Ruth nodded.
“My husband drove the truck, and I watched people fight over places they had already paid for.”
She pulled a wrapped bowl from the crate and set it on the table.
Its glaze showed a blue streetcar beneath a yellow sky.
“I made these for that festival,” she said.
“I kept the unsold ones because throwing them away felt worse.”
Evan asked whether she remembered Dennis Voss.
Ruth looked at the bowl before answering.
“He carried my boxes inside when everyone else was shouting,” she said.
“Then he told me not to leave because somebody was trying to fix the assignments.”
“Did you see who stopped him?” Evan asked.
“I saw a man take the microphone away from him,” Ruth replied.
“I didn’t know his name, but he wore a green cap and smiled while he did it.”
Evan felt the old story shift again.
Dennis had not merely suspected a mistake.
He had tried to correct it while the crowd was still there.
Ruth unfolded a cloth and revealed a second bowl.
A thin crack ran through its rim.
“A customer knocked this over during the argument,” she said.
“My husband wanted to repair it, but I told him to leave the crack visible.”
She looked toward the busy hall.
“People like a clean story because it fits on a sign,” she said.
“The trouble is that most of us lived through the messy part.”
