9. Molly
I’mdisappointed when Alex leaves, which is weird because he’s my boss and I shouldn’t want him watching over my shoulder all the time. But the way he interacted with customers was kind of adorable—not conducive for sales, of course, but adorable. A little shy, but his passion for his farm shines through that bashfulness.
I’m not too worried about the job. It seems straightforward enough, and there’s only a few dozen products, and most of them are clothes. Alex told me someone restocks the dairy products every day before the shop opens and, based on the customers I’ve already had this morning, that’s where most of the business is.
The farm stand closes from 1 to 2 p.m. for lunch, and I wasn’t sure what the situation was, so I packed my own and pull it out at 1:02 after flipping the sign to closed. I could bike back to Vaniel, but that’s a lot of work. Otherwise, there are no restaurants near enough to bike, so a sandwich it is.
I also brought a book. Our book club meeting is in a few weeks, but I’m going pretty slowly through this one—a very popular romantasy that my friend from home, Natasha, picked. I’m enjoying the book—who doesn’t love a cold elf king with a heart of gold—but a new Stardew Valley update came out and I started a new save, so I’m addicted to that right now. Good thing Ethan ran a power cord for me to run out to the van.
I finish my sandwich and am reading the book when there’s a knock on the door and I look up. Kit stands on the other side of the glass, sporting a goofy grin. One hand is across his forehead, shielding his eyes so he can see, and the other holds two aluminum foil packets.
“It’s unlocked,” I call.
He frowns and leans back, testing the doorknob and grinning again when it opens. “You know the closed sign probably won’t deter people who drive up.”
“Oh no, I’ll have to sell them something if they’re that persistent,” I deadpan.
Kit raises the aluminum foil packets. “Alex forgot to tell you about lunch. He was late taking his break too, so we’d already eaten by the time we realized you needed to be fed.”
I rub my hands together. “Whatcha got?”
Kit sets the food on the counter. It’s still warm and the smell of corn and meat wafts up to my nose. “Anna makes us breakfast every morning and then leaves a warm lunch in the oven. I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I brought a veggie taco and an al pastor.” Kit points at each.
“Yum. I did already eat a sandwich, but this smells way better.” I tug at the foil of the al pastor, and I’m hit with a meaty and spiced scent that makes my mouth water. Much better than my turkey sandwich.
Kit leans against the counter with a smile and watches as I carefully pick up the juicy bundle and take my first bite. “Yeah, Anna is from Oaxaca, and her food is the best. Mexican food—at least the good stuff—is pretty rare around here.”
Kit’s happy to talk away while I eat. “You’re welcome to come up to the big house every day for lunch, but I will warn you they talk shop the whole time. Today’s topic was ordering gendered sperm for the cows that are ‘ready to work.’” Kit makes air quotes. “I mean, bull sperm isn’t exactly palatable table conversation.”
I pause, staring at him, mouth full of taco. He chuckles. “Damn, they got me doing it now.”
We grin at each other, and then Kit tells me about his day mucking the stalls, turning the compost, and basically doing anything with a shovel or rake. Then he notices the book I’m reading and tells me about the sci-fi book he’s stuck halfway through because he works so hard every day and gets up so early he has to go to bed when he normally would read.
I demolish one taco and then, oh, why the hell not, eat the other. Maybe I’m too full for someone who’s not gonna nap, but damn, those tacos were good.
“I’ll bring you lunch tomorrow, and we can eat in here, away from the sperm chatter,” Kit tells me before leaving at two.
* * *
The second strawberry weekend at Bedd Fellows Farm goes even better than the first. I see Alex twice a day when he comes to restock the milk, but it’s just a brief hello.
The following week flies by, and as I work at the shop, I meet all kinds of interesting people. I ask everyone where they’re from and where they are going, and it’s fascinating. There’s a guy that comes in on Wednesday and buys milk and eggs to feed his family of six up in Saranac. He commutes to the city two days a week, working from home for the rest. I meet a lot of Fork Lick locals. Friday is the busiest day, with weekend warriors passing through on their way up to the Adirondacks and commuters making their way home.
Kit has lunch with me every day, bringing more of Anna’s delicious cooking. Occasionally, we get people driving up and coming to the door, and Kit and I wordlessly slip our food under the counter and let them in. By Thursday, I stop putting the closed sign up during lunch, in favor of selling more for Udderly Creamy.
I’m getting worried about Vaniel, though. The electrician hasn’t returned any of my calls. If I can’t get him to come out and inspect Vaniel, all of my plans are shot to hell. I’ll have to start all over again with a new electrician—if I can even find one here.