Heartland (True North #7) - Sarina Bowen Page 0,25
my project, I’d take a few caramels down to Bud at the Country Store in Weston. He likes to talk about product development, and he has a thriving mail-order business.”
“Would he be there on a Sunday?” Dylan asks. “We could go tomorrow.”
My heart gives a happy kick.
“I’ll email him,” Audrey offers. “Let’s see.”
“That’s a good plan,” Griffin says. “You can’t make caramels next Friday, anyway. We have the bonfire. And the cemetery service.”
“Oh,” Dylan says. And then he looks at his hands.
I’d forgotten about this, too. Every year the Shipleys gather to remember August Shipley’s passing. This will be the sixth time. They visit the cemetery and then hold a bonfire in his memory.
“Dylan,” Ruth says gently. “Please bring your fiddle home on Friday. I want to hear you play ‘St. Anne’s Reel.’”
He says nothing, his expression shuttered. All he does is lean over to pluck a piece of bacon off May’s plate, then shove it in his mouth.
That’s when Zach walks into the dining room. “Morning, guys!”
We all look up, and various greetings are called out. Everyone loves Zach. He’s always in a good mood and always ready to work. This is the man I thought I killed by kissing him in the back of a car five years ago. But here he is, healthy as an ox, married to a smart, wonderful woman who loves him.
I’m so happy for him. But I’ll always feel a little twinge of guilt when I see his face.
“Need breakfast?” Ruth asks him.
“Thanks, but I’m good. Who’s taking the first shift with the horse wagon? Should I go down the road and get the team from Isaac?”
“Would you?” I say, rising from the table. “Then I’ll drive first shift.” Tourists love to be escorted around the property on a wagon pulled by Isaac’s two workhorses.
“No problem!” he says cheerfully. “It will only cost you one of those caramels everyone is raving about.”
“I’ll cut some more of them this afternoon and bring you some.”
“Dibs on the rest!” Grandpa shouts. “Age before beauty.”
Then everyone starts talking at once. Except for Dylan, who picks up his coffee mug and gives me a smile.
And I feel meltier than a batch of caramel at two hundred forty-eight degrees.
Ten
Dylan
At the Country Store, I don’t know why I expected to do any of the talking. Although I think of Chastity as shy, she frequently surprises me.
Like now, for instance.
“What if we did a small box and a larger box?” she asks as Bud tastes another caramel. “And maybe each candy should be smaller than these.”
“Yes to all that,” he agrees. “They’re pretty decadent, so you could go down to a square shape. Like so.” He holds up his fingers.
“Or thinner?” Chastity counters. “They’d be easier to cut neatly.”
“Sure. And if you put eight of them in a small box and then twenty-four in the large…” He sighs. “They’re irresistible, young lady.” I’m pretty sure he means both Chastity and the caramels. “This is a great product for the holidays. Your label should have red on it somewhere. It’s a subtle hint, but people respond.”
“Good tip,” she says. “What retail price would you put on eight of these? If they were a little smaller.”
“Let’s weigh a couple and think about it,” he says.
I know when I’m not needed, so I just stand back and let it all happen.
“You make ’em yourself, right?” Bud asks as he places four caramels on the scale where they weigh out cheeses.
“We do!” Chastity says. “In a state-licensed commercial kitchen, of course. From organic Vermont goat’s milk and organic sugar. We’ll do a fifty percent wholesale discount, or maybe fifty-five percent for larger orders. What do you think about five dollars for the small box?”
“That price is a little low, honey,” he says. “Might wanna mark ’em up after you charm a few more geezers like me. I think you should say eight bucks.”
“Yikes, really?” Chastity is all smiles.
“Really. This is a premium product, and it’s just the kind of thing people expect to find in small shops like mine.”
I chime in for the first time. “My brother would say eight. He leans into the luxury market, too.”
“That’s right,” Bud agrees. “Griffin works his tuchus off for those ciders. And he prices them accordingly. Now is not the time for imposter’s syndrome.”
“I don’t even know what that is,” Chastity says.
He laughs. “Doesn’t matter. Go make some more beautiful candy. When will I hear from you to place my order?”