Butter You Up: A Grumpy Sunshine Romantic Comedy

18. Molly

Wednesday morning,I get a text from an unknown number.

Come up to the house for lunch.

Alex wants us all together.

Also, this is Kit.

Molly

Did you get my number from Alex because you’re too lazy to come down?

Kit

Maybe…

At one, I trudge up the hill to the big house. I’m the last to come in, and the guys make room for me at the table across from Alex.

I haven’t seen him since Sunday night, and we exchange tentative smiles. Kissing him was stupid. I won fair and square, and instead of letting myself off the hook for my impulsive bet, I doubled down. Several times I’ve caught myself fantasizing about the soft brush of his beard against my chin and have to smack myself for thinking about my boss like that.

Being around the rest of Alex’s staff, though, prevents me from blurting out any idiotic questions.

Lunch is some sort of shredded, aromatic pork with stewed beans, rice, and veggies. One of these days, I’m going to have to meet Anna and give her a big ‘ole hug.

Kit’s telling a story about one of his friends back in Here that has everyone laughing. Alex asks about Luis, Jesús’s son, who’s graduating high school next month. It’s very familiar and warm.

After we eat, though, Alex stacks our empty plates and rests his forearms on the table. “I wanted to ask if anyone has any improvements or suggestions they’d like to make around here.”

The table’s quiet as the men all exchange glances.

“You can think about it, of course, but I’m game for anything. If there’s something you think would be good for the farm, whether that’s you or our animals, I want to hear it.”

Jesús and Perry offer a few ideas about things I don’t frankly understand: homogenizers, cow collars, and corn silage.

Alex takes notes.

“The farm shop could use a little…” I waggle my head, trying to think of a polite way to phrase it.

“Sprucing up?” Alex suggests.

“Gutting and rebuilding?” Kit one-ups.

“Somewhere in between,” I say. “It’s cute, but it’s clothes-heavy. I think some smaller things like stickers or coffee mugs might do better. And, sorry, but the wire racks should go.”

Heads nod in agreement. Quiet descends, and we think some more.

Perry rubs his chin. “Why do you ask, boss?”

“Yesterday, my brother asked if there was a way that our farms could partner together. But I honestly…” Alex rubs his face. “Everything I can think of that I want is new equipment or impossible.”

“What’s on the list that’s impossible?” Kit asks.

“I’d love to give farm tours. There are educational programs we could run here, but we don’t have the space. We can’t just make space happen. And I’m not sure how that would benefit Bedd Fellows.”

The guys go quiet, thinking.

Jesús speaks up. “The best thing for our bottom line is to sell more milk directly, right, boss?”

“Yeah.” Alex glances at me and Kit. “The cooperative takes most of our milk, but they pay us way less than the public does.”

“Cutting out the middleman,” I say.

“Exactly.”

“Is strawberry milk just as profitable?”

Kit grins, and Alex rolls his eyes. “More profitable.”

“You know, people love strawberry milk. What if we offered it in the farm shop and in the CSA? Maybe even call it a limited run and see how it goes.”

“If Ethan has enough strawberries.”

“Ugh.” Alex puts his head in his hands. “I hate that stuff.”

There are snickers around the table.

“Why?” I ask.

“Our stance has always been that our milk is healthy. ‘Healthy for you, healthy for the cows, and Udderly delicious.’ That’s always been our motto.”

“The health benefits are still there, aren’t they? Kids—and adults—that drink strawberry milk are still getting all the protein and calcium and all that good stuff, right?”

“Yes,” Alex begrudgingly admits. “But we have to clean the bottling machine every time, and that’s annoying.”

“We have to clean it every time anyway,” Jesús points out.

“Actually,” I muse. “What if we added chocolate milk?”

Alex glares.

“Look, people love the strawberry milk. You get tagged on Instagram every weekend by people raving about the milk.”

“We do?”

“Yeah. Who runs your social media?”

“Uh. Me.” Alex shrugs, chagrinned. Then I see it hit him. “Is this how you knew you could sell enough last weekend?”

“Hell yeah. And now I’m taking over your social media.”

“Good riddance,” Alex mutters.

“So, call Ethan and ask how many strawberries he can set aside for syrup. We’ll email your CSA newsletter—you have one, right?—and offer a limited run of strawberry milk.”

“Damn girl,” Kit says. “Next thing you know, we’ll be calling you boss.”

“Plus, we should sell strawberries in the farm shop and in the CSA. And Ethel’s jam.” Okay, now I’m rolling. “Offer everything in the CSA, not just eggs and dairy. Are there any other farmers you know you could work with?”

Alex considers this. “It’s not a bad idea. We’re one of the more established membership programs in the area, and it would be convenient for the customers, too.”

“Is there not a farmer’s market nearby?”

“The closest one is Albany. It’s not terribly far, but there are other dairies that go. And in the past, it hasn’t been great sales for us.”

Perry clears his throat. “To be fair, boss, you and I weren’t the best at running a stall.”

Everyone looks at me. Kit points between me and him. “We’d be great at a farmer’s market. You,” he points between the rest of them, “not so much.”

“Be that as it may,” Alex says with only a hint of the exasperation he must be feeling, “Molly’s leaving at the end of the summer, and you’ll be gone before then. Probably. Hopefully.”

Alex’s eyebrow wiggles, and Kit laughs.

“Okay, so far, the best plan is to sell more strawberries. I’m going to call my brother and inform him of our big plan.” Alex’s voice has this little lilt to it, a slight tease. It’s adorable.

We split up to get back to work.

Down at the farm shop, I pull up pictures of Rose Apothecary from Schitt’s Creek. It would be really fun to spruce this place up, but Rose Apothecary relies on antique hutches and white, clean shelving.

Well, it might be a total crapshoot to look for antique hutches, but a nice white shelf system would be easy.

Maybe.

I lose myself in a Pinterest rabbit hole and come out the other side with a plan.