Текст книги "New Amsterdam: Tess"
Автор книги: Ashley Pullo
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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 9 страниц)
“I want to see you every day.”
“Are you high?”
“You’re so sexy.”
“Are you drunk?”
“God, I need to fuck you.”
Thessaly glances out the backseat window and spots a coffee house with the word BOLD painted on a chalkboard display. “And I told you I want to start dating,” she responds.
“Then date me,” Mason pleads.
“I’ll see you later, Mason.”
Ending the call and laughing to herself, Thessaly pulls six dollars from her bag. As the taxi stops, she thrusts the cash through the partition and jumps out the door. Houston is a wide street, and her idiot driver took the easy route by dropping her off on the northwest corner. Sandwiched between fifty other sweating New Yorkers, she shuffles across the street with a deep scowl. Today is one of those days that’s humid, hot, and stale – the trifecta of Manhattan misery.
Pushing past a few tourists unfolding maps, Thessaly arrives at the glossy blue door of Les Étoiles. She’s known the owners since her days as a vendor for King’s Market, and often provided food services for their show on The Food Network. Pete and Marta Fuchs are one of those power couples – gorgeous, smart, and incredibly talented. And last summer, when they launched their fine-dining restaurant, Thessaly was the first to offer a list of connections.
Opening the door, she’s immediately greeted by Pete, wearing a yellow apron and a Penn State baseball cap. “Hey, Tess.” Pete wipes his hands on his apron before giving her a side hug. “Sorry for the time change, but Marta is on bedrest and she demanded I come in and do the dinner prep.”
“It’s fine, really. When is she due?”
“Six more weeks,” he answers.
“That’s so exciting!”
“Um, it will be. But right now she has me prepping for dinners, washing clean laundry, and then running around TriBeCa buying random things for the nursery – here, have a seat. Would you like a drink?”
“Water would be great.” Sitting down at a table for two, Thessaly removes her iPad and scrolls through her product list.
Arriving at the table with a pitcher of blackberry-cucumber-infused water and two tall glasses, Pete sits across from Thessaly and sighs. “God, I’m tired.”
“I can only imagine.” She pours water into each glass and then says, “Hey, I read a great review about your summer brunch in New York Foodie.”
“Yeah, that was quite a surprise. That critic despises me – like vowed to destroy me three years ago when I fired him from our show.”
“That’s funny.”
“Ironic, too. That review went live online the same day we decided to eliminate brunch . . . which is why I called this meeting.”
“Oh?”
“Tess, Marta and I think of you as our friend – and I’d be lying if I said we didn’t consider the effects on your business when we made the decision to decrease table service. But with the baby coming, and my associate that handles the PR living in San Francisco, we have to take a few steps back.”
“Yikes, this is one of those firing meetings.”
“I feel awful – I should’ve bought you a steak dinner first.”
“I get it, Pete.” Thessaly takes a sip of water and clears her throat. “May I ask if you’re eliminating honey and jam from your entire menu?”
“Not completely, but comparing costs and negotiating with our produce vendor, we were able to get locally-harvested honey added to every order starting in a few weeks – practically for free.”
“Oh, well I can’t compete with free. Are you still buying your produce from New Jersey Nick?”
“Nah, we’ve been using Brooklyn Soil. Do you know it?”
Looking up from his laptop, Seth asks, “Tess, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Where’s Meg?”
He points to the kitchen door and replies, “In there prepping the jars.”
Thessaly drops her bag on the island and heads to the kitchen. Distressed, she sighs and whines, “Meg.”
“Hey – I thought you were taking a personal day.” Meg aligns a row of sterilized lids on a dishtowel and then crosses her arms.
“Pete’s dropping us in September.”
“What? Why?”
“They’re eliminating weekend brunch.”
“Well, that sucks. I’ve been trying to get reservations for weeks – the French toast is to die for!” Noticing Thessaly’s body language, she adds, “But they should still need honey.”
Thessaly scrunches her nose and groans. “Pete negotiated a free supply through his produce vendor.”
“I’m sorry, Tess. I can line up a list for new proposals this weekend,” Meg offers.
“Meg, the honey is coming from Levi’s farm.”
“Since when?”
“Since, now.”
“That sexy, sneaky bastard. Do you think he’s a mole?” Meg asks, shaking her head.
“I don’t know what to think, honestly. He’s asked me a few questions, but I just assumed it was an interest in me and not the honey business.” Slumping over and turning ashen, Thessaly adds, “Oh, shit. I’m going to be sick.”
“Tess, don’t think the worst, please. I’m just a horrible person that believes people generally suck.”
Removing her phone from her pocket, Thessaly pecks at the screen and says, “I’m going to text him. I have to know.”
Tess: Does your farm have honey?
Thessaly shows the text to Meg before hitting send. Swallowing back the lump in her throat, she waits for his reply.
Levi: Not yet. But I’ll show you the apiary tonight.
“Is he lying?”
“Why would he lie?” Meg counters.
Rubbing her temples, Thessaly mutters, “I’m so confused. And dehydrated.”
Meg grabs a bottle of water from the refrigerator and opens it. “Drink up. And then go home. Are you seeing him tonight?”
Gulping back half of the water, she shakes her head. “I was invited to the rooftop’s dinner party – I’ll see how I feel.”
“You should definitely go. Corner him. Rip his clothes off and interrogate him. Interrogate him real good.”
“Are you insane?” Thessaly shudders.
“I’m sane. Tess, relax.” Pointing to the crates of peaches stacked in the corner, Meg adds, “And I think everything with Levi is peachy.”
“Your puns really suck.”
“But you’re smiling?” Meg teases.
Of course the peaches make her smile – any time she thinks of Levi she smiles. But the constant spontaneity of emotions and actions scare her. At least with Mason, things are simple.
Grabbing the bottle of water, Thessaly says, “Shit, I need to meet Shelby at my apartment. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“I’ll stop by the store tomorrow afternoon. I’d love to see Dr. Shelby and ask him about this weird bump on my leg.” Meg lifts her leg and points to a red blemish.
“He wants to be a neurosurgeon, but I’m sure Shelby would love to look at your legs.”
“Tess, will you talk to Levi sooner than later?”
“Promise,” Thessaly agrees, patting Meg’s shoulder as she leaves the kitchen.
Helping a customer at the register, Seth nods to Thessaly as she walks out the door.
Focused on her thoughts, Thessaly makes her way up Fulton in a daze. If she were to make a pro/con list for Levi, and one for Mason, the results would be the same, yet entirely opposite. Both men put their heart into their careers, although one makes work his primary focus. Both men appear to like sex, although one has yet to make the move and the other has no new moves. Both men send flowers, although one sends delicate, pink peonies, and the other brings a bouquet of wildflowers.
Before she enters her building, Thessaly checks to see if Lucas is still in the alcove. Maybe she seeks his advice, or maybe she needs to know the answer to love. But to her surprise, he’s not there. The sleeping bag and the cardboard sign rest against the wall, but his other belongings, as well as her Thermos and basket, are not to be seen.
Maybe he’s on a bathroom break, she thinks.
“Tess!”
Thessaly turns toward the familiar voice to find her baby brother, Shelby. Crossing the street with a black duffel bag and a Papaya Dog hot dog, he embraces his sister in an open hug and smiles.
“I see you found a healthy snack,” Thessaly jokes.
Taking a bite, Shelby mutters, “I had to wait in line for twenty minutes, but yeah, this shit is good.”
The two siblings take the elevator up to Thessaly’s apartment while Thessaly apologizes. “I’m meeting Mason for drinks – you’re welcome to come, but I think he’d prefer if you didn’t.”
“No thanks, I’ll find something to do.”
Unlocking the apartment door and giving Shelby the key, Thessaly suggests, “There’s usually an outdoor concert on Friday nights, or I could have Meg and Seth meet up with you for dinner.”
“Yeah, I don’t know them. Do they live in your building?”
Thessaly slaps his arm and yells, “Meg and Seth. From the shop!”
“Whoa, I completely forgot about them.” Tossing his bag on the floor next to the couch and combing the refrigerator for a beer, Shelby whines, “Cider all you got?”
“Vodka’s in the cabinet.”
Shutting the refrigerator door and crossing his arms, Shelby laughs. “Do I look like Aunt Jenny watching soap operas?”
Thessaly snorts and shrugs her shoulders. “Plenty of men enjoy vodka. And I love vodka.”
Kicking off his sneakers, Shelby shakes his head and says, “I’m taking a shower.”
“Hurry up!” she demands.
Shelby closes the bathroom door behind him while Thessaly rummages through her closet. She removes a sleeveless navy dress that barely hits her knees, but Mason will enjoy the classic color with a flash of skin.
As she places her phone in the charger, it vibrates with a text from Levi.
Levi: Lobster. Corn. Blueberry pie.
Tess: I might be late. Don’t wait for me.
Levi: Pie, Tess. We have pie.
Chapter Nine
The dinner scene on a Friday night in the Financial District is similar to a college reunion. Even in a city with eight-million people, it’s easy to run into a dozen familiar faces before the night is over. Thessaly waves to a few ladies she knows from her former tennis club, and then joins Mason and two men nursing whiskey sours.
This is the second time this week a date has been foiled by other guests.
“Tess,” Mason says, standing from his chair to greet her. Mason places his hands on the waist of her little blue dress and kisses her quickly on the mouth. Taking her hand and turning back around to the table of men, he adds, “Gentlemen, we’ll need our table now.”
Gathering their drinks, the men stand from the table and stare at Thessaly with approval. “Good choice, Andrews,” says the man with the plaid bowtie. “See you out east tomorrow?”
“I’m not sure, Clyde,” Mason replies, pulling out a seat for Thessaly. “Have a splendid weekend, gentlemen,” he adds, joining Thessaly’s side.
As the two men finally stagger away, Mason turns to Thessaly and apologizes. “I had to invite them over for a few minutes – the tall guy gave me a promotion.”
“It’s fine, really. I don’t expect you to ever be some place and not know at least ten people. You’re the homecoming king of Wall Street,” she teases.
“All I care about is my queen – you look absolutely stunning, Tess.” Mason strokes Thessaly’s wrist with his index finger and smiles. “Can I order you a drink?”
“Please, and I’d love something to eat.”
“I thought you said you had dinner plans?”
“I’m not sure now – do you have time for dinner?”
“Absolutely.” Snapping at the waitress, Mason says, “But we’ll need champagne.”
Placing a napkin in her lap, Thessaly asks, “What’s the occasion?”
“Let’s just say, I have a very tempting proposal in mind.”
Arriving at the table, the waitress fills a water glass for Thessaly and turns to Mason. “Can I get you something else to drink?”
“We would like a bottle of Moët, please,” he orders.
“Of course,” she replies.
Waiting for the waitress to leave, Thessaly teases, “You’re being uncharacteristically sappy, Mason. What’s going on?”
Taking her hand and shifting his body to look directly in her eyes, Mason reveals, “I’m moving to London. And I want you to go with me.”
“What?”
“It’s only a temporary move, but we could live in a flat and drink tea and go to Chelsea games.”
“But I live here now, Mason.”
Dismissing her comment, he says, “You’re only renting, Tess.”
“But my business!” she bursts.
“Tess, you’ll love London – it’s like New York but cleaner.”
“Mason, I’m shocked. You know I love you, but I can’t just pack up my shop and move to London.”
Thessaly’s phone buzzes with a text, followed by a phone call.
“Tess, please don’t answer the phone,” Mason pleads.
When her phone buzzes with a series of texts, Thessaly drops her head to read the screen. “Hang on,” she apologizes.
Meg: Urgent!!
Meg: Christina overdosed!!
Levi: Do I need to carry you to Brooklyn?
Meg: Meet us at Presbyterian
Meg: 14th Street
Meg: Hurry!
“Mason, I’m sorry, but I have to go. It’s an emergency.” Thessaly places her napkin on the table and stands.
Huffing, Mason rises and tosses his napkin on the table. “I’ll come with you,” he offers.
“No, please. Can I call you tomorrow?” Thessaly asks, grabbing her clutch and heading toward the front of the restaurant.
“But I need an answer,” Mason insists as he walks behind her.
“I need time to think, Mason,” she says over her shoulder.
“Tess, this should be easy.”
Thessaly stops, turns to face Mason, and smirks. She places her hand on the sleeve of his expensive shirt and laughs. “It’s actually too easy, Mason.”
“Then you’ll come to London?” He smiles hopefully.
“We’ll talk tomorrow – I have to go.” Thessaly whips back around as Mason grabs her arm. She shakes him off and darts out the door to the restaurant.
Hailing a cab, Thessaly crawls into the backseat, calms her shaking hands, and then returns a text to Meg.
Tess: I’m on my way. Any updates?
Meg: The doctor mentioned a coma. Lois is freaking the fuck out.
Tess: Shit. Keep her calm.
“Fourteenth, please. New York Presbyterian Emergency Room,” Thessaly instructs the cab driver. “And hurry,” she adds.
Thessaly rereads the last text from Levi. She wants to reply, but the distractions and current stressful situation are preventing her from forming an appropriate reply. So instead, she opens the photo of them taken on the yacht and begins to sob.
“Being a mother is the greatest joy in a woman’s life. I have a few friends that can’t have children, and I pity them. Almost as much as they pity me.”
Chapter Ten
As a courteous reminder, New York Presbyterian Hospital forbids use of all cellular devices.
Hearing the announcement for the fiftieth time, Lois DeMarco glances at the screen of her iPhone and then shoves it in her pocket. She’s always been the type of person to follow the rules, even when the rules tend to screw her over. When she delivered Christina Marie in this same hospital over sixteen years ago, Lois declined an epidural and opted for a natural delivery. Richie, her husband at the time, claimed that drugs used during childbirth would eventually make the kid a substance abuser, even though he himself was a raging alcoholic with no authority on the matter.
So for the health of her baby girl, and to refrain from fighting with Richie, Lois endured twenty hours of excruciating labor pains. And as she sits in the dimly lit waiting area to the ICU, a jabbing pain terrorizes her uterus.
Removing another piece of gum from her handbag, Lois chomps to the rhythm of the ticking clock above the water fountain. She glances at the elderly man dozing in the corner, and then at the middle-aged man reading a paperback with tiny reading glasses, wondering if they could ever share the same pain as a mother losing her only child.
Lois closes her eyes and smiles – watching as fading memories dance across her eyelids. She sees Christina, dressed in a white gown and white gloves. Christina’s toothless grin beams while she poses with a Bible and an antique rosary. It’s Christina’s First Communion – a day of spiritual celebration followed by a family dinner in Whitestone. Even Richie, handsome in a blue suit, dances soberly through the memories with Christina twirling from his arm.
The Communion party shifts to a summer vacation in Fort Lauderdale. They’re having the best time at the beach, building a sandcastle in the shape of Midtown and swimming in the warm salt water. As night falls, Lois surprises Christina with a tiny pair of diamond studs. Christina flails her arms and hugs her mother, realizing that at eleven years old, she can finally get her ears pierced.
An older Christina, with aqua-blue hair and a nose ring to match her diamond studs, lumbers across the fading memories. She takes Lois in her scrawny arms as they watch Richie walk out the door to never return. Christina cuddles next to Lois in the king-size bed, stroking her hair and listening to her mother cry.
“Ms. DeMarco?” a quiet voice announces.
Opening her eyes, Lois leaps from her seat and searches for the voice. “I’m here,” she replies frantically.
A doctor wearing green scrubs and a white lab coat approaches Lois. “Let’s talk over here,” he suggests calmly.
Biting the tip of her tongue and clenching her jaw, Lois prepares for the worst as she follows the doctor to the opposite corner.
Placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, the doctor says, “I’m Dr. Fletcher. Christina suffered from an overdose because her body’s metabolism couldn’t detoxify the chemicals fast enough. We flushed her stomach and gave her an intravenous of fluids. Honestly, she was very lucky – most kids don’t make it with that many drugs in their system.”
Wiping away her tears, Lois asks, “So she’s okay?”
“Christina will recover, but I need to be straight with you, Ms. DeMarco. If there’s a next time, her heart won’t be able to handle the stress.”
“I can’t lose her, doctor. She’s my entire life.”
Squeezing her shoulder, Dr. Fletcher adds, “I understand. You will need to seek treatment for Christina – would you like to meet with a social worker to discuss options?”
Shaking her head and wiping away dry tears, Lois states, “I found a place in Florida near my parent’s house that offers a payment plan. When will she be released?”
“It’s too early to say, but as long as everything remains clear the next few days, she could go home as early as Monday.”
Exhaling in relief and dropping her shoulders in exhaustion, Lois says, “Thank you, Dr. Fletcher.”
“There’s no need for you to be here until she’s moved to a room. Why don’t you go home and get some rest, Ms. DeMarco.”
“I don’t want to leave her, but I do need to make a few phone calls and arrangements. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
“I’ll keep you informed,” the doctor adds with a comforting smile before heading back through the ICU doors.
Lois drops into the nearest chair – weak and completely weightless. She closes her eyes once again and smiles . . .
Only this time, it’s the future dancing across her eyelids.
“Do you normally close on Saturdays?” Shelby asks while running a box cutter over the FedEx tape of a box.
“We’re not really closed, but I don’t post the hours outside the shop. Our schedule is so screwy around here that we decided to just let things flow.”
“Ah, so what happens if someone comes in while we’re unpacking all this shit? And why is the bubble wrap yellow?”
“Why so many questions, baby brother?”
“I’m cranky, I guess. What do you have to eat back there?” Shelby motions to the kitchen as Thessaly’s phone rings.
Grabbing it from the island and recognizing Lois’ number, she quickly mumbles, “Lots of healthy stuff. I need to take this call.”
Shelby closes the blade and nods to Thessaly. He stretches his arms and twists his torso in opposing directions before announcing, “I’ll grab some breakfast.”
“Iced latte,” Thessaly shouts at Shelby as he leaves the store. Swiping her phone to answer the call, Thessaly says, “Lois?”
“Tess, I have great news! Christina will be discharged in a few days.”
Sighing and praying to the heavens, Thessaly expresses, “Thank God, Lois. What can I do to help?”
“Tess, I’m afraid I have bad news as well.”
“Okay.” Thessaly bites her lip as she sits at the island.
“Christina will start a rehab program in two weeks.”
Glancing at the vase of flowers from Levi, Thessaly replies, “That’s a good thing, Lois.”
“The rehabilitation facility is in Florida,” Lois whispers.
“Oh.” Slouching over the counter, Thessaly props head on her arm.
“And I’m moving in with my parents so I can be close to Christina and eliminate my living expenses. The rehab is going to cost me nearly fifty-thousand dollars.”
“Holy crap, Lois. Maybe we can host a fundraiser or something?” Thessaly suggests.
“That would embarrass Christina, and she has to trust me.”
Thessaly’s phone vibrates with an incoming text, but she ignores it to finish her conversation with Lois. “Last night, Seth and Meg agreed to give you their remaining vacation days to help out with some of the medical bills. It’s not a lot, but it would give you another week’s salary on top of your early holiday bonus I can offer. I wish I could do more, Lois.”
Lois sobs, “You three are like family to me.”
“I feel the same way,” Thessaly replies.
“Tess, thank you for stealing me away from King’s last year and offering me an exciting adventure. I wish you all the success and happiness.”
“Don’t make me cry, Lois! Promise me, when Christina’s feeling better, you’ll pop in and let us give you two a proper New York sendoff?”
“Deal. I have to meet with my landlord now – I’ll call you in a few days.”
“Take care, Lois.”
“Bye, Tess.”
Ending the call, Thessaly walks to the kitchen while reading a text.
Mason: Let’s finish our conversation.
Thessaly: Give me the weekend to think about it.
Tucking her phone in the pocket of her shorts, Thessaly opens the small wall safe behind the mixing bowls. She removes the company’s book of checks and places it on the work station. Grabbing a pen from the canister near the refrigerator, Thessaly makes out a check to Lois DeMarco for two-thousand dollars. She then accounts for the check in the register and returns the book to the safe.
“Tess?” Shelby shouts outside the kitchen door.
“In here,” Thessaly responds while addressing an envelope.
Shelby pushes open the door carrying a caddy of Dunkin Donuts coffee and a box of donuts. “Strawberry frosted with sprinkles,” he ploys.
“Ugh, their iced coffee is watery.”
Removing a large iced vanilla latte from the cardboard caddy, Shelby suggests, “Chase it with a glazed donut.”
Thessaly leans against the work station and sighs. She gouges the plastic cup with an orange straw and groans.
Talking with his mouth full, he asks, “What’s up, sis?”
“Mason asked me to marry him. And move to London.” Taking a sip from her coffee, Thessaly adds, “Or maybe it was move to London and hypothetically get married.”
“Weren’t you engaged once before?”
“He’s never really proposed, or maybe I never really answered – God, I’m so confused.”
“So he asked you to move to New York with him, and now he wants you to move to London, but you’re not together?” Shoving the rest of his donut in his mouth, Shelby adds, “Seems like he just wants a moving buddy.”
Thessaly stomps her foot and laughs. “Holy shit! Mason’s such a pussy!”
“I could’ve told you that,” Shelby drawls.
“He needs me, but once he’s settled, he doesn’t want me. I’m like his, his . . .”
“His blankie,” interjects Shelby.
Thessaly nods while her eyes expand in horror. “Oh, my God – Mason had this torn flannel blanket at Duke. He’d sleep with it every night, and I mean every night. He’d also wear it like a cape when he was sick. One time, I tossed it in the hamper to take to the laundry room, and he went ballistic!” Tilting her head and frowning, she mumbles, “I’m his flannel blanket.”
“Nah, you’re just really sweet.”
Reaching for a strawberry donut, Thessaly exhales and lowers her head. “I don’t want to move to London. I want Levi.”
“Then buy some,” Shelby replies as he leaves the kitchen. “These boxes won’t unpack themselves, TayTay.”
Laughing, Thessaly grabs her coffee and follows him into the shop. “I really like the square jars, don’t you?”
“Amazing. Sometimes, when I’m sitting in my neurology clerkship discussing brain anomalies, I’m actually daydreaming about square jars.” Shelby positions the containers of raw honey on the island and whistles along to the music blasting through the speakers.
“Shelby?”
Crouching down near the stack of boxes and removing his box cutter, Shelby says, “Yeah?”
“I love you,” Thessaly proclaims.
“You should.”
While Shelby and Thessaly organize the inventory and argue over the best television spinoffs, Seth and Meg waltz into the store holding hands.
“Did you hear from Lois?” Meg asks, ripping her hand away from Seth.
Smiling at her friends, she replies, “I did. Christina is going to be fine. Although, they’re moving to Florida.”
Seth picks up a large container of honey and scowls. “That sucks.”
“It’s for the best,” Thessaly says with conviction. “And by the way, are you two official?”
“Officially not dating, if that’s what you’re asking!” Meg leans against the island and grins. “Hey, Doogie. How’s New York treatin’ ya?”
Sitting on the floor and retying the laces to his sneakers, Shelby answers, “Not bad. I managed to get tickets for Jimmy Fallon tonight – wanna come?”
“Hell yeah!” Meg exclaims.
Standing from the floor and slapping Seth’s arm, Shelby apologizes, “Sorry, man, I only scored two tickets.”
“It’s cool. I’ll just watch Silicon Valley with my roommate. Maybe grill some cheese sandwiches and share a six pack . . .” mutters Seth.
“Awesome,” Shelby agrees. “Donuts?”
Meg follows Shelby to the kitchen while Seth helps Thessaly unwrap the remaining jars. “Jimmy Fallon and a doctor? I can’t even compete,” Seth drones.
“I wouldn’t worry. Meg is totally into you.”
Spilling from the kitchen with a napkin and two glazed donuts, Meg frowns. “Did I hear my name?” She places a napkin on the island and then shoves the shiny golden pastry into Seth’s face.
Seth rips off a piece with his teeth and smiles at Meg. She moves closer to him, their bodies touching, and whispers, “Good boy.” Spinning back around to face Thessaly, Meg says, “I was thinking we could suspend online orders for the remainder of the month. Without Lois, and with the new launch coming, it will be impossible to keep our high standards of delivery.”
“How many pending orders do we have?” asks Thessaly.
“I’ll look again, but I think less than ten. We can fill those tomorrow and ship them out on Monday.”
“All I have to do on my end is deactivate the online store – which is really easy.”
“Then let’s do it.”
“Did you talk to ice cream guy?”
“Mr. Softee!”
“Levi,” Thessaly corrects.
“Like the jeans?” Shelby teases.
Clarifying the confusion, Meg recites, “Levi Jones is the owner of Brooklyn Soil. He has a crush on your sister and got a boner during a photo shoot . . .”
“Stop right there,” begs Shelby.
“Levi and I had a few dates this week, but it’s not going to work.”
“Because of Mason?” asks Seth.
Crossing his arms, Shelby scorns, “I thought you ended things with Mason.”
“I tried, but then he asked me to move to London,” answers Thessaly.
“You’re moving to London?” squeals Meg.
“No, I mean, I said no.”
“Good. So what’s up with Levi?” asks Seth.
Ashamed, Thessaly whispers, “Levi took some of my clients.”
“He has honey,” Meg clarifies.
“Brooklyn Soil?” Shelby asks.
“Yes!” Meg and Seth shout in unison.
“Keep up, brother,” teases Thessaly.
“I do actually.” Swiping the iPad from the island, Shelby types in Brooklyn Soil and Immigrants into the Google search bar. Tapping the first title of a dozen articles, Shelby enlarges the screen and passes it to Thessaly. “Mama wanted me to find a youth program in Asheville that would allow troubled kids to spend a week on our farm. Brooklyn Soil kept popping up in my searches when I was researching youth farm programs – it’s pretty impressive.”
As Thessaly skims the article, Seth peers over her shoulder and asks, “So Levi is a good guy?”
“He’s amazing,” Thessaly mumbles.
“And you never googled him?” Meg quips, scrolling through her phone with a smile. “Do you follow his Instagram account?”
“No,” she answers quietly.
“I just did! Damn, he was in the Peace Corps. Look at this photo, Tess.” Meg flips her phone around to reveal a photo of Levi with a group of kids in an open kitchen in Belize. They’re all holding an ear of corn and a sign that reads: We’re so corny!
Thessaly smiles and then continues to read the online article. “What’s the refugee alliance,” she asks the group.
Shelby moves to Thessaly’s side and reads over her shoulder. “It’s a program that offers jobs to refugees seeking asylum. They work in agriculture or the arts while assimilating into New York.” Shelby taps a photo of a young couple on the iPad and addresses his sister. “And take a look at their newest project.”
“Beekeeping,” Thessaly whispers.
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t be concerned, Tess. They have one Afghani beekeeper, one apiary, and ten colonies.”
“Tess, he posted a pic with you!” Meg exclaims as she squeezes between Shelby and Thessaly. “You look drunk, but beautiful.”
“Obviously you haven’t seen Tess drunk,” Shelby teases.
Placing the iPad on the counter with a screen shot of a black and white photo of Levi planting cabbage, Thessaly calmly says, “Let’s get back to work, Shelby.” Glancing at Seth, she adds, “You two don’t have to stay. Go enjoy your day off!”
Nodding in agreement and pulling Meg away from Shelby, Seth replies, “Let’s go, weirdo.”
Looking at her phone while Seth tugs at her waist, Meg sighs. “Gah, he’s so nice, Tess. I bet Levi has a naughty little secret – the nice guys always get freaky in bed!”
“Bye, Meg.”
“Hey, Meg?” Shelby interrupts. “Meet me at the pub on the corner for drinks around five.” Breaking down a box into a flat rectangle, Shelby adds, “You can come, too, Seth.”
“See you guys later,” Seth grunts, stepping over bubble wrap. “You should lock the door – it’s a mess in here.”
Thessaly waves them off as she glances at the iPad screen with Levi’s picture. “Lock it behind you then,” she mutters.
“What’s next?” Shelby asks.
“Do you want to help me make honey sticks? We’ll use your flame method to seal the straws.”
“Fine, as long as I can pick the music. This crap you have playing right now is awful – Lilith Fair called and they want their lesbians back.”
Tossing Shelby the iPod, Thessaly says, “Go for it.” Heading toward the kitchen, she looks over her shoulder and adds, “Grab my coffee, will ya?”
Inside the kitchen, Thessaly pours raspberry honey into a plastic bottle normally used for mustard. She bought it at a restaurant supply store because the tip is narrow enough to fill a straw. She then removes a box of clear plastic straws from a nearby shelf and two sets of disposable gloves.
