Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
Erica
M ackenzie weaves in and out of chairs at town hall, talking to a cameraman behind her. My stomach squirms when I imagine the winning dessert featured on TV. Of course, Carla winning would further the storyline of her televised special.
With any luck, we can put a twist on the competition and give it an unexpected ending. Then everyone will want to know the history behind our dessert and our orchard.
“Hey, Mackenzie.”
She stops within a foot of me and smiles. “Are you here to enter the bake-off?”
“Yeah.” I hide my nerves behind a smile.
“Good. I think this will be so fun to film, and a great event for the community. With a place like Apple Cart County, an official dessert is a must.”
“I agree.”
Even better if the dessert includes apples. Fingers crossed Carla doesn’t come up with an apple-flavored cookie.
“Georgia put the entry forms on that table.” Mackenzie points to a long table in the corner of the room with poinsettias on one end and papers on the other. “I added a sheet saying we have permission to show your dessert and personal likeness on TV. I’d appreciate you signing that as well.”
“Absolutely.” I cross the room to the table.
Mama and Aunt Margaret might not care to be on TV, but they can take one for the team to showcase our foods.
I grab a packet from the top of the stack and a pen from my purse, then sign away. The last page is a list of rules I can take with me. I pull it from the staple and glance at it on my way out.
It goes over everything from what qualifies as a dessert to what the judges are looking for. Presentation is part of the score, which will give Carla a leg up. Maybe I can talk Grandma into getting back in the kitchen and assisting Aunt Margaret with some of that lattice work she uses on pie crusts.
My grandparents retired a decade ago and spend most their time RVing. But they’re home now, so I may as well call in the professionals.
I slow near the lobby and continue reading the rules. My body moves on autopilot as I slog toward the door and push against it with my back.
“Well, hi again.”
I jerk my gaze from the paper. Ryan stands in front of me, his hand on the door.
“Hi.” I smile.
“We just can’t stay away from one another, can we?” He smirks.
“I guess not.”
He slides his hand down the door, causing his arm to graze my side. I flinch.
“Sorry.” He takes a step back.
“No, you’re fine. I was concentrating on this, and you startled me, is all.” I lift the paper.
He narrows his eyes and reads the heading. “Apple Cart County Bake-Off—Official Rules.” His mouth cocks to the side. “Hmm, you bake?”
“Personally, no, but my family does. The Marshall family, Apple Cart County Apple Orchard?”
“Really?”
“Yeah, you’ve probably never heard—”
“Y’all have the best website.”
My feet involuntarily take a step toward him. He could’ve called me brilliant, beautiful, and brilliantly beautiful, and it wouldn’t have made more of an impression.
“You’ve seen our website?”
“Of course. It’s how I first found out about this bake-off.”
I lean closer. “You read my blog?”
“You write that?”
“Excuse me,” an older voice calls.
I turn to a CO-OP cap and lower my eyes to an aggravated Wendall Jenkins. “Sorry.”
Ryan and I move a few steps in the opposite direction and clear the doorway. Wendall goes inside, allowing the door to close behind him.
“You’re a good writer. I really enjoyed the content about the orchard’s history.” Ryan smiles like we’re still a few inches apart.
“Thank you.”
I fight the urge to step closer to him. As well as the urge to blab about my family’s foods. Even though he’s familiar with small towns and says “y’all,” he’s a visitor. Nobody passing through wants to be bothered with details about the orchard.
The door opens between us, and Georgia sticks her head out. Her tiny bell earrings ring as she looks to me, then Ryan.
“Ryan, there you are. We’re ready for you in the office.” She looks back at me. “Hey, Erica.”
“Hi.” I half smile, then study her earrings closer. I couldn’t begin to imagine having ringing in my ears all day.
“Thanks, I’m coming.” Ryan nods.
Georgia disappears inside.
“Called into the principal’s office?” I joke.
“No, some business I’m doing while I’m here.”
“Oh.” I frown.
Ryan isn’t wearing a three-piece suit or a sweater vest, and he doesn’t have a metropolitan vibe. According to Hallmark, that disqualifies him from being a corporate tycoon ready to overthrow our small town.
Plus, he’s genuinely nice.
“Do you have any paper?”
“Uh...” I dig in my purse and find a Dollar General sales paper. “Will this work?”
“Got a pen?”
I hand him one. He jots something down and hands it back. “My number. If you have some time, I’d like to tour your family orchard before I leave town.”
I study the number, trying to make sense of this. When I lift my head, Ryan is gone, and the door is closing behind him.
If he is a businessman, this could either be really good or really bad. He could see the orchard, love it, and help spread the word to others. Then again, he could be the evil corporate guy in disguise and plan to take over everything my family has built.
I fold the paper and secure it in the corner pocket of my purse. It would be easier to believe the latter scenario if he weren’t so darn charming . . .
And hadn’t read my blog!
Ryan
I let Georgia assume she and her husband are the sole reason I’m here.
They’re not.
They may have contacted me, bragged on my publication, and asked me to be a celebrity guest judge for the bake-off. But the real reason I wanted to come to Apple Cart was the photos and stories I found on Erica’s blog.
I could tell I’d get along with her from the start, but even more so after knowing she’s the brains behind the blog.
“Any more questions?” Georgia smiles.
I wait for her earrings to quit ringing before I answer. “Do you have any suggestions of a good place I could grab lunch?”
“Yes.” She nods her head toward the window, ringing her ears again. “Mary’s Diner across the street has the most variety and delicious home cooking.”
“Thanks.” I stand.
She stands as well and extends her hand. “Pleasure having you here, Mr. Walter.”
I take her hand and lift my chin. “Remember, it’s Ryan this week. And only Ryan until after the competition.”
“Of course.” She shakes my hand and her head simultaneously, causing the earrings to run wild.
I give her a serious look of warning, then slowly transition to a smile when I sense she gets my message. I leave the town hall office and look across the road. The parking lot is full, so I decide to walk and leave my rental car where it is.
Groups of people gather around the front of the restaurant and inside. I fall in line for what I assume is a hot bar. A middle-aged woman in an apron walks up to me with a menu.
“Hey, sugar. Welcome to Mary’s. I haven’t seen you in here before.”
“First time.”
“I’m Mary, and I’ll fix you right up.”
I glance around, not seeing any empty tables. “I can get something to go if that’s best.”
“No, sir.” She waves a hand and smiles toward a booth. One woman stands and walks toward the register. The woman sitting across from her is Erica. We make eye contact, and she smiles.
“Perfect. Brooke is going back to work, so you can occupy her seat and use Miss Erica’s booth.” Mary gives me a devious grin.
I follow her to Erica like some odd twist of fate.
“Erica, do you mind if this gentleman sits at your booth for a bit?”
“Not at all.” Erica indicates for me to sit.
“Okay, here’s your menu. Erica can answer any questions about the foods.” Mary plops the menu in front of me and hurries away.
I settle into the seat across from Erica and sigh. “What are the odds of me seeing you here?”
“Since it’s twelve-thirty and the only restaurant in town with indoor seating, I’d say pretty high.”
I laugh. “I promise I’m not stalking you. And sitting here was all Mary.”
“I’m certain of that.” She smiles. “What do you want?”
“To check out the town, including the orchard. But don’t feel pressured to give me a tour if you don’t have time.”
She laughs. “I meant to eat.”
“Oh.” I open the menu. “I like burgers, and I like the good ol’ meat-and-three option.”
“Then I suggest you get the macaroni before it runs out. Fried green tomatoes are another favorite, if you’re into that.”
I close the menu. “Tell you what. Why don’t you order for me?”
“Okay.” She grins.
Mary comes back and asks what I’d like to drink. Erica tells her to bring me what she’s having for lunch. I study the menu, curious what it is.
A few minutes later, Mary returns with my water and refills Erica’s. She sets a box in front of her.
“Sorry, sugar. They already had yours ready to go.”
“That’s fine.” She slides the box from a bag as Mary leaves.
“You don’t have to stay because of me.”
“No, it’s fine. I was going to eat at home while I worked on the computer. My cousin was in here eating, so I sat with her while I waited on my order.”
“The girl in scrubs?”
“Yes.”
“Does she work at the orchard too?”
“No, she’s a radiology tech.” Erica sips her drink. “I do all the orchard marketing.”
“I can tell.”
She slants her eyes.
My pulse ticks. “I didn’t mean that to sound weird. I meant you create a compelling story with words and photos.”
“Thanks.” She opens her box, and I lean forward to see what I’m getting soon.
“Chicken and dumplings?”
“Yep. The best.”
There’s also macaroni, green beans, and a homemade roll.
“If you want a third vegetable, I can have her add it. This always fills me up.”
“No, that looks delicious.”
Mary returns with my plate and two rolled silverware pieces. We thank her, and she nods, then hurries away.
“Is it always this busy?”
“Pretty much.”
She takes a bite and studies me. After she swallows, she says, “You never told me what you do.”
“My family runs a pumpkin patch.”
“I love those, especially when I was younger.”
I relax against my seat, satisfied that I sidestepped answering her question directly without having to bald-face lie.
I’m able to deflect most of the conversation to her family and their orchard. She lights up as she talks about her ideas for expanding their reach and why she’s entering them into the bake-off.
Slight guilt runs through me as she continues, but not enough to give away my true identity. In no time, half an hour has passed, and our plates are clean.
“I actually have some work I need to finish today, and my parents are busy pruning the trees. If tomorrow morning works for you, I’d be happy to give you a tour of the orchard.”
“That would be great.”
I came here expecting to learn more about the orchard. What I didn’t expect was to find a girl I enjoyed being with so much, especially one who works there.
Maybe there is such a thing as fate.