Back at home, Hans had already accomplished enough work to make most people question his definition of a normal morning.

The fields surrounding his farmhouse had been watered, every row of crops inspected as he made his way between them. The Summer sun had already begun drying the soil along the paths, but the darker earth around the plants still held plenty of moisture. Hans had checked the leaves for signs of disease, pulled several weeds that had somehow escaped his attention the previous day, and made a mental note that one section would probably be ready to harvest sooner than he'd expected. There was always something demanding attention on a farm, but for the moment, at least, the fields could take care of themselves.

The animals were another matter.

His chickens had been first. Hans scattered feed for them before collecting their eggs, enduring the usual commotion as several birds behaved as though they hadn't eaten in weeks instead of since the previous morning. One particularly impatient hen followed him around the enclosure until Hans finally crouched and scratched gently beneath her feathers.

"You know there's food right behind you, don't you?"

The chicken stared at him. Hans pointed. She continued staring at him.

"Fine. Starve surrounded by food. See if I care."

He gave her another affectionate scratch before standing.

The cows were considerably easier, though they demanded more of his time. Hans moved among them with the familiarity that came from years of repeating the same routine, checking each animal, filling their feed, milking those that needed it, and stopping occasionally to offer an affectionate pat. His sheep required similar attention, particularly one whose wool Hans suspected would be ready for shearing soon. By the time he reached the alpacas, the farm had settled into the peaceful rhythm that Hans enjoyed most about the middle of the day. There were no customers calling for him, no hand bell ringing, no dozens of conversations occurring simultaneously around him. There was only the rustling of grass, the occasional cluck from the chickens, and the contented noises of animals enjoying another warm afternoon.

Hans picked up a brush, "All right. Your turn."

His prized alpaca looked at him with what Hans had long ago decided was an expression of complete entitlement.

"Oh, don't give me that look. You know you're spoiled." The alpaca remained unmoved.

Hans laughed and began brushing its coat. He worked slowly, running the brush through the thick wool in long, careful strokes. Keeping an alpaca's coat in good condition required patience, particularly when Hans intended to produce high-quality wool from it. Fortunately, this one seemed perfectly happy to stand there and accept his attention. Hans brushed along its side, occasionally using his fingers to separate a stubborn tangle before continuing.

Normally, this was the kind of work that allowed his mind to empty. Today, however, someone kept wandering into it. Brown hair, agreen country dress, awhite apron, and a bouquet held carefully in both hands.

Hans smiled faintly, "Millie."

The alpaca turned its head toward him. Hans stopped brushing, "What?"

The alpaca stared. Hans narrowed his eyes. "Don't start."

It continued chewing. Hans returned to brushing, though the smile remained.

It had been several days since the bazaar, and he hadn't given the encounter much thought at first. At least, that was what he'd told himself. Millie had simply been the final customer of a long day. She had needed flowers, he'd had flowers, and circumstances had worked out nicely for both of them. Except Hans had remembered her name.

He had remembered the way her face lit up when he told her she could have the bouquet. He remembered her laughing when he joked about her father remembering the anniversary. He even remembered her running back after she'd already said goodbye simply because she realized she hadn't introduced herself.

There was nothing particularly strange about remembering someone pleasant. Still, Hans found himself wondering whether she would come to the next bazaar.

Perhaps she visited regularly. Hans couldn't remember seeing her before, but the Grand Bazaar attracted enough people that it would have been impossible to recognize everyone. Maybe she'd walked past his stall dozens of times without either of them noticing the other. If she did return, he supposed he could ask where she lived.

Hans ran the brush down the alpaca's side again. "Not because I'm interested," he informed the animal. "I'm just curious."

The alpaca continued chewing. Hans frowned at it, "Those are different things."

"Hi, Hans."

Hans froze. The brush stopped halfway down the alpaca's coat. For one ridiculous moment, he wondered whether he'd imagined the voice simply because he'd been thinking about her. Then he heard a small, bashful laugh behind him.

Hans slowly looked over his shoulder. Millie stood just beyond the fence.

She wore the same traditional country clothing he'd remembered from the bazaar: pale-yellow blouse, green laced bodice, long olive skirt, and clean white apron. Her brown hair was once again gathered into its high ponytail, though a few loose strands had escaped around her face during the journey. One hand rested against the fence while the other lifted in a small wave. There was a shy smile on her face, as though she wasn't entirely certain whether appearing unannounced at someone's farm was an acceptable way to say hello.

Hans stared at her. Millie's smile faltered slightly. "Is this a bad time?"

"No!" Hans answered much too quickly. He cleared his throat and lowered the brush. "No. Sorry. You surprised me."

"I can see that."

Hans glanced at the alpaca. The alpaca stared back. He decided he disliked that expression immensely.

Hans stepped through the gate and closed it securely behind him. "Hi, Millie."

"Hi."

For a second they simply smiled at one another, both apparently discovering that greetings became strangely more complicated when neither person had a marketplace transaction to hide behind.

Hans broke first, "You're early."

Millie blinked. "Early?"

"Four days early." Her brow furrowed until he continued, "The bazaar."

Understanding appeared across her face, followed immediately by laughter. "Oh!"

Hans folded his arms. "I'm afraid you've come all this way for nothing. You're going to have to stand around until Saturday."

"Four days?"

"Four days."

"Do I get somewhere to sleep?"

"Absolutely not. Bazaar policy. But Sunnywood Hotel has good rooms."

Millie placed a hand over her mouth as she laughed. "That's terrible customer service."

"We're very strict."

"Maybe that's why everyone comes here."

"Exactly."

Whatever nervousness had accompanied Millie onto the farm seemed to disappear. Hans found himself relaxing as well. She was as easy to talk to as he'd remembered.

"So what are you doing here?" Hans asked. "Not that you're not welcome. I just figured I'd see you at the bazaar again."

"I was hoping you wouldn't mind me stopping by."

"Not at all."

Millie glanced toward the fields and barns surrounding them. "I had the day off."

"From what?"

"My family's business."

Hans waited for her to elaborate, but Millie simply smiled. Apparently that was a story for another time.

"We've been busy lately, and I haven't had much time for myself," she continued. "But today there wasn't anything they needed me for, so I thought I'd come to Zephyr."

Hans looked toward the road beyond his farm. "You came all the way here on your day off?"

"It's not that far."

"Far enough that you need a coach."

Millie's eyebrows rose. "You remembered that?"

Hans immediately realized what he'd admitted, "You mentioned it."

"I did."

"So naturally I remembered."

Millie's smile became just slightly more playful. "Naturally."

Hans rubbed the back of his neck. "Anyway, you said you came to Zephyr. I'm guessing this isn't your first time, considering you were at the bazaar."

"No, but that's different."

"How?"

"When I come for the bazaar, I come for the bazaar." Millie gestured vaguely toward town. "I arrive, buy whatever my family needs, look around for a while, and then I have to make sure I'm back in time for the coach. I don't really get to see much else."

Hans hadn't considered that. For him, the bazaar was simply one part of Zephyr Town. A very large, very important part, certainly, but still only one part. Millie experienced it differently. Her visits were dictated by transportation schedules and errands. She could know the marketplace extremely well while barely knowing the town surrounding it.

"So today," Millie continued, "I decided I'd come without a shopping list."

Hans gasped dramatically. "Dangerous."

"I know."

"Your family allowed this?"

"They don't know how reckless I've become."

Hans laughed. Millie looked past him toward Zephyr Town in the distance. "I thought I'd spend the afternoon actually looking around. See some of the places I always pass. Maybe find somewhere nice to eat."

"Sounds like a good plan."

"It was."

Hans noticed the past tense.

"Was?"

Millie clasped her hands behind her back. Suddenly, the bashfulness returned.

"Well…" She rocked slightly on her heels. "Then I thought of something better."

Hans waited. Millie glanced toward him, then away again, "You live here."

"I had noticed."

She laughed softly. "That's not what I meant."

"I know."

"I thought…" She hesitated before finally looking at him. "Maybe you could show me around?"

Hans blinked, "Me?"

"Unless you're busy."

Hans looked behind himself. The farm answered on his behalf with a chorus of animal noises.

Millie immediately raised both hands. "You are busy. I'm sorry. I should have asked before coming all the way out here. I just thought because you knew Zephyr so well—"

"Millie." She stopped. Hans smiled, "I can finish this later."

Her eyes widened slightly. "Are you sure?"

"The fields are watered. Everyone's fed. Most of the important work is already done." Hans glanced toward his prized alpaca. "And someone can survive without being brushed for one afternoon."

The alpaca stared at him. Hans pointed at it. "Don't."

Millie giggled. Hans set the brush aside and brushed some loose wool from his shirt. "Besides, if you're going to visit Zephyr properly, you should probably have someone who knows where everything is."

"That's what I was thinking."

"Then you've come to the right place." Millie's smile brightened.

Hans walked toward the farmhouse, intending to wash his hands and change out of the clothes he'd been working in. After several steps, he glanced back and found Millie standing by the fence, watching the animals.

"Give me a few minutes?"

"Of course."

"And don't let the alpaca convince you I neglect him."

Millie looked toward the animal.

"He does look terribly deprived."

"Traitor."

Her laughter followed Hans toward the farmhouse. He stepped inside still smiling, though it wasn't until he reached the sink that something occurred to him. Less than ten minutes earlier, he'd been wondering whether Millie might return to the bazaar. Instead, she'd come looking for him.

Hans washed his hands, changed his shirt, and dismissed the small warmth that thought produced before it could become anything more complicated.

They were simply friends. A new friend had come to visit Zephyr Town on her day off, and she'd asked him to show her around. That was all. And for the rest of the afternoon, Hans decided, that was more than enough.