Maya woke before dawn and walked the lane while the fields were still gray. The maple leaves hung heavy with dew. She unlocked the door and felt the cool air of the small room. She lit the lamp and swept the floor. The cats made slow circles and checked the corners. She wiped the counter and set out the ledger and the ribbon bowl. Today she would add rules where all could see.

She tore a strip from a cloth sack and wrote four lines with charcoal. Clean hands. Fair price. No pushing. Pay the knots. She pinned the cloth above the counter. The words were simple. She wanted no doubt about how trade would feel here. Ruth came soon with bread and a jar of honey. She read the rules and smiled.

By midmorning the road filled with feet and wheels. A farmer walked in with a bundle of flax. He needed needles and lamp oil. Maya counted the value of flax and showed him how many knots would match two needles and one small measure of oil. He nodded and signed the ledger with a mark that looked like a field. It felt like the old register days, but better. Each mark was a person she knew.

Children walked in with pails to fill at the well. They stopped to smell the new soap. One asked why the soap cost more than salt. Maya said soap took time to cure and needed fat and herbs. Salt was heavy but came in sacks when the trader arrived. They seemed to like the answer. They left with a tiny shaving and a new habit to wash before supper.

Near noon a new trader pushed a cart with bright cloth. He had loud talk and a fast smile. He called himself Pike and said he had the best prices in three valleys. He watched the jars and the ledger and asked where the guards were. Maya said there were no guards. The rules on the wall kept order. He snorted and said rules did not stop fast hands.

Crowds grew and the room warmed. A young man tried to take two scoops of salt for the price of one. Maya saw the double bend in his elbow. She stopped his hand and spoke calm words. She said the rules were for all. He looked at the crowd and dropped his eyes. She offered a fair trade. He signed the ledger and tied a knot. The room eased. Pike laughed and said that fear did what rules could not. Maya did not answer.

Pike tried to sell bright cloth inside her door. He blocked the counter and shouted prices that rose and fell with each face. Women frowned. The cats hid. Ruth stepped beside Maya and folded her arms. Maya pointed to the rule that said no pushing. She told Pike he could set a mat outside under the maple and sell at a steady price. He called her a small clerk with a small mind. Jonas arrived in time to hear the words.

Jonas walked once around the room. He asked Pike to speak lower. He asked Maya if the ledger matched the bowls and sacks. She showed him the pages. He ran a finger down each line. Pike rolled his eyes and told Jonas that trade needed spark and not a school slate. Jonas looked at the wall again. He read the rules out loud. He said they sounded like an oath.

The mood turned softer. A mother paid the last knot on her ribbon and lifted her sack of salt. She said the store made life steady. She could plan for winter and not fear the next cart. Others nodded. Jonas told Pike the town wanted steady trade. Pike could sell outside if he kept his price clear and his voice calm. Pike sighed and moved his cart to the shade.

Maya’s hands shook after the rush. Ruth poured her water and told her she had done well. Maya watched the door. She feared the next test. She feared the moment someone would cut a ribbon or tear a page. The fear sat with her like a heavy coat. She pulled the coat tight and stood straighter.

Toward evening a storm rolled over the hills. The wind slapped the sign and shook the latch. People ran for cover. Pike grabbed his cloth and ran for the maple. The sky turned purple and then black. Rain drummed on the patched roof. Water pushed at the door and slipped through the seams.

Maya slid the ladder under the leak. She set a pan on the beam and tied a cloth to guide water away from the jars. Eli pushed straw against the sill. Ruth held the door. The cats hid under the counter. For one long hour they fought the leaks and the wind. The roof held. The floor stayed mostly dry. The storm passed at last and left the air sweet and cool.

Neighbors came back to check the town. They saw the jars safe and the ledger dry. They touched the rules as if the words held magic. Jonas pressed a new wax seal on the doorframe. He said the market had stood through its first hard rain. He said the town could trust it.

Maya washed the counter and let the cats out to hunt. Pike packed his cart in silence. Before he left he paused at the door. He said the cloth would look better on a real shelf. He said he would return with needles and thread if she wanted them. She said yes and wished him a safe road.

When the lane grew quiet, Maya wrote a new line on the cloth. Be kind when you can. She pinned it under the first four rules. The words were plain but felt like a key. She locked the door and walked home with Ruth and Eli under a bright clean sky. The maple dripped behind them like a slow clock. Tomorrow the roof would need more pitch. Tomorrow more ribbons would turn smooth. Tomorrow the store would open again.