Chapter 8
8
If you’ve broken the eggs,
you should make the omelette.
Anthony Eden
T eddy didn’t waste any time, quickly rinsing his mug and setting it in the dishwasher. He glanced around the kitchen…spic-and-span, just as he would’ve guessed.
Before he flew out the door in Baylin’s wake, Teddy noticed a spiral notebook on the countertop. She’d left it open to an extensive list of tasks:
Finish quilt (take photos!)
Deliver quilt to Miss Sadie
Merch for booth:
? FQ bundles (press and tie)
? Napkins
? Tablecloths
? Pillows
? Soaps (finish packaging)
? Farm tees
? Valentine’s apparel
? Vintage boxes
? Postcards
? Sticker display
? Bookmarks
? Food and produce for booth:
? Butter
? Eggs
? Goat cheese
? Jams and jellies
? Salsa
? Canned fruits
? Peaches
? Pears
? Apple pie filling
? Blackberry pie filling
? Cherry pie filling
? Black-eyed peas
? Green beans
The list went on and on for pages.
No one person could get this much done. Good grief, when does she sleep?
Teddy flipped off the coffeemaker, turned off the lights, and dashed to find his hostess.
Because she needed some help.
He spotted her in a fenced yard, clucking to chickens while tossing feed in the same manner the brusque February wind tossed the long waves of her red hair. No, not red…and less auburn than it had looked indoors. The bright early morning sun turned it copper in color.
Trade her form-fitting, curve-defining modern blue jeans for a long skirt, and in that setting, she could’ve traveled to anytime in history. She embodied the image of a strong, hardworking woman greeting the day with chores on her farm…could’ve been pre-Civil War, the 1920s, or turn of the twenty-first century. She would be a ravishing beauty in any era.
On that day in 2021, the vision Baylin created across the yard did strange things to Teddy’s equilibrium. And to his heart! He rubbed his chest to calm a flutter.
When she disappeared inside the chicken coop, Teddy shook off his daydream and jogged over to see how he could assist.
“Want some help?” he asked from the doorway, startling Baylin into dropping an egg.
“No,” she replied with a smirk.
“Oops. Sorry,” he said, chagrined. “Need me to clean that up?”
“No,” she repeated, her voice short, flat, and final.
“I’m great at cleaning up messes.”
“I can imagine.”
“And I’m a terrific helper,” Teddy added, stepping into the chicken coop and casting a glance around the space for a way to lend a hand. Besides roosting boxes, bars for perching, chickens, and wood shavings on the floor, the building was mostly empty. He didn’t see a broom or rake or anything to work with. An air-tight container stood in one corner and a half-full, five-gallon water bucket sat upside-down in a metal base, which plugged into the wall.
“I could fill up this water dispens?—”
“It’s fine,” Baylin interrupted. “I’m about done.”
“Surely there’s something I can do.” Teddy turned a circle in the relatively small space, shuffling to step around Baylin, but remaining in her way instead.
That earned him another admonishing look of exasperation.
“I’m finished feeding, and the water heater’s set for the night. Hens don’t lay as many eggs during the winter, so there are fewer to gather.”
“At least let me carry some, so we don’t drop more,” he added, taking the egg basket from her without asking permission first.
“ We, huh?”
Teddy confirmed with a slight nod and a playful wink.
“Do the heat lamps help?” he asked, gesturing to the box heaters glowing orange in each corner of the coop.
“They keep the chickens alive, and extra feed helps, but the chickens use most of their energy staying warm. That leaves little to spend on laying eggs.” She reached under a hen to retrieve two more and handed them to Teddy. The basket remained less than a third full.
“Does this give you enough to sell at the festival? Minus the one I need to pay for, of course.”
Baylin’s posture relaxed a fraction at his self-effacing guilt. She took back her basket with a tug and set it on a wooden shelf.
“Yes, I’ve been collecting them for weeks. I have a bunch…” Baylin held her apron to create a bowl for the eggs and emptied the basket. “…even without that prized, golden egg on the ground,” she said with a teasing smile.
Oh, I could get used to that smile.
Their eyes locked, right there in the middle of squawking and pecking and the smell of chickens. They both froze for a split second, just a ripple in time, but enough to create that sizzle in Teddy’s chest again.
Glancing down, Baylin tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Then she looked into his eyes once more and stepped around him with a faint, “Excuse me.”
“Oh here, I’ll take some,” Teddy offered.
She hesitated.
“They’re safe. I promise,” he pledged. “I’m good with my hands.”
Her eyebrows shot up and her chin tilted.
“I mean, at using my hands,” he said, tripping over the words while suppressing a laugh. “At catching things,” he added. “Usually.”
She continued to eye him with uncertainty, but he’d have sworn a little laughter bubbled behind her eyes.
“What I’m trying to say is that I won’t drop any eggs.” Teddy held out his hands for Baylin to fill with fresh eggs. She stacked them in his large palms until her apron was empty. “Where do they go?”
“Down the back hallway, there’s a walk-in pantry next to the kitchen. You’ll find a stack of empty cartons on the shelf by the green refrigerator. The eggs go in the cartons, and the cartons go in the fridge,” she instructed.
“Do I need to wash them first?”
“No, they last longer if you don’t.”
He nodded and moved toward the house. Then he stopped mid-stride.
“Wanna go with me?”
“To the house?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“To put away the eggs,” he answered.
“I thought you wanted to do that.”
“I do,” he was quick to reassure. “We could do it together.”
“I don’t know,” she stalled. “I have a lot to do.”
“Many hands make light work,” he cajoled.
“So they say.”
“Come on, I need you to open the door,” he urged. “We’ll finish the eggs, and then I’ll help you with the next item on your list.”
She looked him up and down, as though searching for a hidden agenda, but then she agreed, and they walked side by side toward the house.
Teddy fought the urge to juggle all the eggs into his left hand so he could entwine the fingers of his right hand with hers, mere inches away.
“Did you read my list?”
Teddy’s eyes snapped to hers at the accusation in her voice, but the sparkle in her dark umber eyes revealed she’d been joking.
“It’s quite a list,” he confirmed.
“That it is,” she said in an anxious tone. “That it is.” She expelled a deep sigh as she pushed open the door.
Teddy followed Baylin across the kitchen and into the pantry.
Pantry didn’t accurately define the space…make that room .
Literally, a storeroom, floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the walls. The only breaks in the shelving created built-in nooks for two refrigerators, one in 1970s avocado and one even older in a zesty poppy red, and two upright freezers. Both of those were stainless steel, shiny and new.
Stacked jars of canned foods weighed down the shelves along two walls. The jars’ contents reflected every color of the rainbow and showed off jellies, jams, salsas, sauces, whole fruits, snapped veggies, and a bunch of items Teddy couldn’t name but guessed would be delicious. Farm to table took on a whole new meaning.
Wooden crates, just like the ones they’d used to gather potatoes, covered another wall. Bars of soap, candles, and honey filled some to the brim. Others sat empty, awaiting their goods. Decorative signs tied with a ribbon designated that each crate held a unique item, scent, or formula. The oils and spices she used to make the various products created an intoxicating blend of citrus, floral, and woodsy smells.
The fourth and final wall held wicker baskets in a multitude of shapes and sizes. About half were empty. Textiles and notions filled the other half…pillows, folded linens, rolled fabric, bags of buttons, spools of thread. Teddy recognized them as hand-dyed goods only because his mother had done much of that work for their family when he was a kid and money was scarce.
Teddy stepped closer to the shelves, reading tags and admiring the plethora of goods.
“Curiouser and curiouser!” Teddy said, flashing a wide-eyed, knowing look in Baylin’s direction and feeling another unexpected jolt of awareness when their eyes met.
She didn’t respond, though, instead bustling about to snatch eggs, two at a time from the bowl of Teddy’s hands, filling a carton, and depositing it in the green refrigerator.
Without another word, Baylin left him there. No doubt she’d scurried off to tackle another task.
Shaking his head, Teddy turned off the light and followed Baylin with an indulgent grin.
My little rabbit is on the run.