Basic Neighbors

Chapter 5

I took a deep breath and looked at my booth, feeling the weight of my own expectations on my shoulders as I readied myself for a full day at the Union Square farmers' market. Colorful jars of apple butter glistened in the morning light, their labels catching the eyes of passersby. I had arranged them in pyramids, flanked by baskets of apples and warm, homemade biscuits. A hand-painted sign above it all read "Jade's Apple Butter" in bold, inviting letters, thanks to the calligraphy I had taught myself in high school.

"Morning!" I said, flashing a warm smile at the first customer who approached. The woman, bundled up against the crisp autumn air, returned my greeting with her own eager smile. "Care to try some apple butter? It's a family recipe," I offered.

"Sure, why not?" she replied, her eyes scanning the array of jars. As I handed her a biscuit slathered with apple butter, I felt the familiar flutter of nerves in my stomach. This was it – the moment of truth.

"Wow, this is incredible!" she exclaimed after taking a bite. The words sent a surge of relief and pride through me. "Tell me more about it."

"Thank you so much!" I beamed, filling her in on my journey from corporate drudge to craft maven. She listened intently, nodding along as I spoke of late-night baking sessions, fueled by passion and determination. "It's been quite a ride," I admitted, laughing softly. "But I wouldn't trade it for the world."

"Your enthusiasm shows," she praised, selecting a jar of apple butter and handing me cash. "Good luck with everything, Jade!"

"Thank you! Have a great day!" I called after her, watching her disappear into the bustling market.

More customers began to trickle in, drawn by the wafting scent of warm biscuits. They asked questions, sampled my wares, and left with jars of apple butter tucked under their arms. I felt like I was finally in my element – surrounded by people who appreciated the fruits of my labor.

"You should sell these biscuits, too! They are incredible," one man suggested between bites. The idea had never occurred to me, but it made perfect sense. Why not share every part of my passion with the world?

"Maybe I will," I grinned, handing him a jar of apple butter. "Thanks for the suggestion!"

As the morning wore on, I found myself lost in the rhythm of conversation and commerce. And for the first time since leaving my corporate job, I felt alive. This was where I belonged – among the farmers and artisans, the dreamers and doers. In this vibrant, chaotic city that was both overwhelming and invigorating, I knew I could face any challenge that came my way.

A gust of wind whipped through the market, rustling leaves and sending a shiver down my spine. I wrapped my arms around myself, watching as a group of women approached my booth. Word seemed to be spreading about my apple butter and biscuits like wildfire.

"Is this the famous apple butter everyone's talking about?" one woman asked, a playful glint in her eye.

"I imagine so. There surely isn't anyone else crazy enough to sell apple butter to New Yorkers," I replied with a grin, offering her a sample. "I hope it lives up to the hype!"

Their faces lit up as they tasted my creation, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride swelling within me.

"Can you recommend a good biscuit recipe to go with this?" another woman inquired. I eagerly shared my favorite recipe, and she left with two jars of apple butter, promising to tag me in her Instagram post when she made them at home.

In between customers, I snapped photos of my display, capturing the vibrant colors and bustling atmosphere of the market. My social media accounts were growing steadily, bolstered by high-quality images and witty captions that showcased my passion for crafting and the unique personality behind my brand. It felt surreal – like I was building a community from scratch, one follower at a time.