The Market Tradition

The hustle and bustle of the busy Christmas market did very little to uplift Charlotte’s mood. A disappointment, really, as she normally loved the annual markets but the stress she was currently under had too much of a hold on her.

Work had been extremely hectic lately and this was the only bit of time she was able to carve out of her schedule to just breathe. Her bit of respite didn’t last long, however, as her phone began ringing loudly from her purse.

Tempted though she was to just ignore the call, she knew her boss wouldn’t let up. 

“Hi, Adam,” she said in what she hoped was a friendly enough tone. 

Adam instantly began chattering away in her ear about returning to the office immediately to finalize the report that he needed done yesterday, despite it only coming to her desk this morning. As he continued to make thinly veiled threats about her job being on the line, she did her best to sidestep distracted couples, wayward children, and tired parents. 

“Are you even listening?”

“Of course,” she assured, running a hand through her dark hair, “I’m just wrapping up lunch and I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen? Did you not understand me? I need the report now!” 

“I understand, Adam,” Charlotte replied calmly. This was not the first, nor last, time he’s claimed to need something straight away for it to go undetected for several weeks. “It merely needs one last check over, that’s all.” 

Adam continued berating nothing in particular now as his attention drifted from Charlotte. She made noncommittal noises here and there that Adam didn’t notice. She paused her step on the curb as a mom pushed her stroller past. Giving a small smile at the woman’s thanks, Charlotte glanced up to see a wheelchair bound elderly gentleman gazing back at her. 

The man wore a festive red sweater with a snowman on the front and white pompoms stitched around to resemble snowballs. A red and green plaid scarf wrapped around his neck and looked as though it had seen better days. Something about his appearance reminded Charlotte of someone but before she could dwell on it too much longer, Adam’s voice caught her attention again. 

“Get it done or you’ll soon be packing up your desk!”

Charlotte sighed in frustration when he clicked off. She was fresh out of college and was lucky to land a job as a data entry operator that paid decently well, but ever since Adam took over the company nearly half a year ago, the work environment became rather toxic. 

It also didn’t help that Adam had tried to make a move on her at the company’s summer party and she refused. He apparently was still holding a grudge against her for that. 

Mentally vowing to update her resume and search for new companies, she glowered at her phone bitterly and briefly wished it as a flip phone just so she could snap it shut angrily. She turned to start making her way back to the office when a customer-free stall caught her eye. 

The stall held random knick knacks ranging from glasswork to what looked like a pile of sticks held together by a glob of hot glue. Semi creepy dolls stared down at her from the rafters of the makeshift booth and Charlotte was pretty sure that was an actual taxidermied fox high on the shelf. 

An older woman perched on a bar stool that teetered dangerously on three legs. She knitted a red and white striped scarf that no doubt would be joining the other scarves on the shelf. When she realized there was another person in the stall, she put down her knitting and peered at Charlotte over her half-moon lense glasses.

“Rough day?” the woman asked sympathetically. 

Charlotte glanced down at her phone before shoving it in her purse. “Just work stuff. That’s a nice scarf you’re making.” 

The woman smiled and picked it back up. She quickly looped the yarn around and set the needles on the table. “It’s yours. Free of charge.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t -”

“I insist. Besides, I’ve got way too many made already.” The woman hopped off her stool and, without any sense of personal space, wrapped the garment around Charlotte’s neck. “There. Lovely.”

Perplexed, Charlotte gently touched the scarf. “Er. Thanks. Well, I hope you have a nice rest of your day. I need to get going -”

“Are you shopping for anyone?” The woman latched on to Charlotte’s arm and peered up at her earnestly since she was nearly a foot shorter. “You look like you’ve got someone waiting for you at home.” 

Regretting her decision to step inside the stall, Charlotte pulled her arm free. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Is that a yes, then?” 

It seemed every step Charlotte took caused her to bump into a table or shelf. “No - what? I don’t have anyone -” She hit her head on a low hanging ornament that she swore wasn’t there a second ago. Feeling flustered and a little fearful for her life, she tried to keep a sizable distance from the woman who kept looming closer.

“So you’re not seeing anyone?” the woman pressed. 

“That’s none of your business!” 

The woman suddenly stopped her advancement. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just get so excited this time of year. Here.” She shuffled back to her table and picked up a box. Chocolates were revealed once she lifted the lid. She hummed to herself, lips pursed in concentration, before she finally picked one by the wrapper and handed it to Charlotte. 

“Please,” she pleaded when Charlotte stared at her. “To make up for my eagerness. I won’t let you leave until you’ve eaten it!”

The woman laughed off her own comment but Charlotte was now paranoid she actually would be held against her will. She quickly snatched the chocolate and eyed it suspiciously. The woman nodded eagerly and even waggled her eyebrows. 

“It’s got a strawberry filling,” she said happily. 

Strawberry and chocolate and every combination of the two were Charlotte’s weakness. Rolling her eyes, she took a timid bite. The flavors burst across her taste buds and she soon finished the morsel. She’d have to buy a box of these for herself!

“That’s it,” the woman encouraged, a satisfied expression on her face. “You have a good day now.” 

“Actually, have you got a box of these?” Charlotte angled her head to look at the brand. The label was either in French or Italian - she was always bad with languages - but it was one she’d never seen before. 

When she looked up, the woman was gone. In fact, the entire stall was gone. The sounds of the Christmas market became louder, almost as if Charlotte had re-emerged from underwater. Spinning around, people were still going from stall to stall, eating samples and admiring trinkets. 

But something was off. Everyone looked vintage. Women wore wool skirts with wool coats, hair curled carefully and pinned beneath pillbox hats with fur linings. Men had large overcoats and fedoras ranging from black to beige. 

Just earlier, Charlotte was certain she had seen nearly a dozen teens wearing ripped jeans and mothers wearing baggy sweatshirts. There were no signs of those people anywhere. Everyone looked well put together. 

“Whoa, sorry!” 

Charlotte’s head spun from the collision into a rather firm body. Hands gripped her arms tightly to help balance her, but as she straightened up, she caught sight of her own wool skirt. 

She had been wearing black slacks.

“Miss?” 

“I don’t - I don’t understand - what?” Charlotte finally looked up to meet the gaze of very warm, very concerned brown eyes. 

The man before her frowned slightly, hunching slightly to keep eye contact. “Are you alright? You were sort of mumbling to yourself a bit there before you nearly took a tumble.” 

Charlotte shook her head. “No, I was talking to that woman!” She gestured at the empty space where the stall used to be. “Here! She was right here, selling random things and she was weird and had a dead fox and gave me this scarf and made me eat chocolate!” 

The man’s frown deepened. “Right… Okay… How about we get you out of the cold, hmm? You do seem a bit chilled.” 

Completely confused, Charlotte allowed herself to be steered into a nearby coffee shop. But no, this coffee shop was all wrong too! Gone were the industrial machines in the back of the room, gone was the minimalist aesthetic, gone were the techies and students on their laptops. Instead, wood embellished the shop, men and women sat around in comfy chairs with open newspapers, and a vintage looking machine with several coffee pots took up the back counter. 

“What?” Charlotte whispered as the man sat her down in an armchair. 

“I’ll get you a cup of cocoa, alright?” He said. “It’ll warm you right up.” 

She watched in amazement as he went up to the counter, making an easy comment to the barista and the two shared a laugh. Charlotte looked away when the man gestured towards her and caught sight of a newspaper. 

Queen Elizabeth II Crowned! 

“What?” Charlotte asked aloud again as she grabbed the paper. She looked at the date of the clipping - June 3rd, 1953.  

“Here you go, Miss.” A cup of hot cocoa was held in front of her face.

“This is old, right?” Charlotte gestured to the paper. 

The man’s brow furrowed and he instead placed the cocoa on the table beside her. “Well, yeah. That’s last week’s paper.” 

“Last week?” Charlotte echoed incredulously. “You’re not serious.”

“Serious as they come,” he replied easily as he settled in the chair across from her. 

“1953?” She tapped the date. 

“Yes?”

“1953?” She urged again. When he merely nodded, she threw the paper down. “It’s 2023.” 

The man stared at her. “Did you hit your head or something?” 

Charlotte ran a hand over her face, covering her mouth as her eyes stared unfocused on his red sweater. Sensing she needed a moment, the man unwound his scarf and sipped his own cup of cocoa. 

“I’m Rick, by the way,” he said after a moment’s silence. When he didn’t receive a response, he crossed a leg over his knee. “Alright, I’ll just have to make up a name for you. Lucy? Mary Anne? Sally? Linda?” 

“Charlotte,” she finally supplied. 

“Charlotte, no way. That was my next guess.” Rick smiled at her. “What has you all in a knot, Charlotte?” 

She reached for the cocoa. “I told you. It’s 2023. That paper says 1953. People are dressed like it’s the 50's.” 

Rick tilted his head. Then tilted it to the other side. Then blinked. “Right. Is 2023 a year?”

“Yes!”

His head tilted again. “So… you’re saying you’re from the future. A different century, even.” 

“Yes. Well, I was born in this century. But now it’s the twenty-first century.” 

“Wow.” Rick nodded. “Well it’s nice to know we make it that far at least.” 

Charlotte scowled. “You think I’m lying.”

“I… can’t really tell you what I’m thinking right now.” 

She placed her cup on the table. “I need to go. I need to find that lady. I need to eat her little witchy chocolates and go back to my year and sleep until next Christmas and pretend none of this ever happened.” 

Rick followed her movements with a pensive look. “Okay.” He placed his cup down as well. “I’ll come with you.”

“What?” Charlotte stared at him.

“Yeah. Why not?” He wrapped his scarf around his neck again. “Sounds like fun.”

Pursing her lips, Charlotte gazed down at his red and green scarf that looked as though it had just been bought. “Why? You don’t even know me.”

“No time like the present to get to know someone,” he quipped. “Besides, as I’m the one that bumped into you, I feel like it’s my responsibility to make you don’t, you know…” He mimicked falling over and hitting his head. 

Charlotte rolled her eyes again but couldn’t help the smile tugging on her lips. She may have just met this man but he was quickly becoming endearing to her. Together, they ventured out to the Christmas market again to hunt down the mysterious shop woman. 

They walked the entirety of the market three times to no avail. During their time, Rick chatted about his life and pried more information from Charlotte about the future. She found herself easily responding and the fright of being in a completely different century drifted to the back of her mind that she barely thought of it.

Until it soon became dark and she realized she had nowhere to stay. Rick dispelled that concern as well and invited her to stay with him - “No funny business, I promise.”

The next day went about the same on the search for the woman. The following day Rick had work so Charlotte was on her own, but they met up for lunch and for dinner. 

The days quickly blended together and while the mysterious woman remained missing, Charlotte found herself falling for Rick. 

Before they knew it, years passed. Going to the Christmas market wearing funny, festive sweaters became their annual tradition and while at first it was under the guise of searching for the woman, it was soon forgotten. 

They married in 1964, had their first child in 1977. Two more followed in 1981 and 1984. 

The tradition of the Christmas market still happened, though no one remembered why it became a thing in the first place. 

Now, at the ripe age of 91, Charlotte leaned heavily on her cane. She was trying to remember what had caught her attention so ardently. 

“Charlotte!” The voice of her husband broke through her mental block. 

She slowly turned around to see Rick wheeling up to her. His fraying red and green scarf billowed in the slight chilly breeze and he tugged his snowman sweater back into place as it had ridden up during the move.

“Are you alright?” His warm brown eyes peered up at her. “You were sort of mumbling to yourself a bit there and looked like you were about to take a tumble.”

A sense of deja-vu washed over her but her mind was too tired to try to figure it out. A shout from nearby alerted her that her grandchildren were running their way. 

“Lottie! Lucas! Slow down!” Charlotte's oldest daughter, Lucy, shouted. The twins, Lottie and Lucas, just barely managed to dodge an older woman who had been sitting on a stool with her knitting out in the open street. 

“Tyler, put that gnome down!” The second born and only son, Roger, chastised his adolescent child while his wife Abigail bounced baby Chelsea on her hip. 

The youngest of the three offspring, Mary Anne, scrolled through her work emails as she followed behind her siblings slowly. Work was always busy for her this time of year but she made sure to never miss the family’s annual trip to the Christmas market, otherwise she’d never hear the end of it from her mother about working too much.

Lucy finally caught up to her children and looked absolutely exhausted. “Sorry, Mom,” she said to Charlotte once she had her arms wrapped around Lottie - named after her grandmother, of course. 

Charlotte merely smiled and grasped Rick's hand when Lucas giggled and placed a Santa hat on his grandfather's head. 

“Yes,” she said happily to her husband of nearly sixty years, glancing around at her family that began to congregate around them. “Yes, I'm doing just fine.”

The woman watched them and sighed in contentment before picking up her box of chocolates. She studied them closely before selecting a wrapper and popped it into her mouth. If anyone had been paying attention to her, they'd be amazed to see her suddenly transform into a younger version of herself.

As it were, no one was paying attention and the woman simply packed up her belongings and moved onward, keeping an eye out for anyone else that could use a piece of chocolate.