Chapter 15 Eva
Eva
Asher asked me on a date. A real date. Not babysitting, not a medical appointment, not an accidental coffee-and-scones situation. He looked at me yesterday, after we finally stopped kissing long enough to breathe, and said, “Can I take you out tomorrow? Properly?”
How could I say no to that? The only problem is I’m not used to getting ready on my own. I stand in my temporary bedroom in my underwear, surrounded by the meager selection of outfits I brought with me on this unexpected journey.
I FaceTime Eden.
She answers on the third ring, her face filling the screen, a smear of what looks like honey on her cheek. “Eva! Hey! Sorry, I’m in the middle of—hold on…” The camera jostles as she sets something down. “Okay. What’s up? You look panicked.”
“I have a date.”
Eden screams. Actually screams, loud enough that I hear Esther yell, “What the hell?” from somewhere in the background. “With the yeti?”
“His name is Asher.”
“With Asher the yeti… Eva!” She’s bouncing now, the camera shaking. “Oh my god. Tell me everything. When did this happen? Did you kiss? You kissed, didn’t you? I can tell by your face that you kissed.”
“We kissed.”
More screaming. Esther appears over Eden’s shoulder, looking annoyed. “What is happening? I’m trying to work on the fall menu.”
“Eva kissed the hermit!”
Esther’s eyebrows shoot upward. “The hot one? With the beard?”
“I never said he was hot,” I protest.
“You described him as ‘unfairly attractive in a lumberjack way’ during our last sister call,” Eden says. “I wrote it down.”
“Why would you write that down?”
“Because I knew this would happen.” She grins. “Okay, so you kissed. And now you have a date. Tonight?”
“In an hour, and I have nothing to wear.”
“Tell me where he’s taking you.”
I rattle off the name of the place—some refurbished church—and Esther gasps. “Um, you know Bacon Hotman from Yes, Chef is the owner of that, right?”
“Why would I know that?” I hold up a sweater, and Eden shakes her head.
Esther sighs down to her bones. “If you are going to do social media as a job for clients in the service industry, you need to know about Bacon Hotman. Don’t wear green; you look washed out.”
“What about that blue tunic?” Eden asks. “I wonder if Bacon has a source for honey…I guess there are bees in the Catskills.”
I dig through a pile of clothes and find a soft blue tunic with tiny floral print. Eden’s right—this is perfect.
She nods when I hold it up. “Yep. With your denim jacket if it gets cold.”
I swallow a lump and bite my lip. “What if I really like this guy?”
Esther grins. “Good. Koa and I have enjoyed having the house to ourselves.”
“Esther!” Eden swats her. “This is our tiny baby sister, who is always welcome in all our homes.”
Esther shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “Eva, babe. It’s okay if you like this place and if you like this guy. Lots of people go off and try new things. I mean, Eila went all the way to Greenfield.”
Eden laughs, which sets me off, thinking of our middle sister moving two miles and one river away and acting like she emigrated to Siberia.
Eden and Esther laugh with me until we are all teary-eyed and out of breath, when my oldest sister says, “It’s okay if it’s scary.
You didn’t know any of this existed a few months ago, when you were ignoring certified mail and inserting yourself into all our marketing efforts to avoid responsibility. ”
“I wasn’t avoiding.”
Esther arches a brow, and I sigh, flopping back on the bed.
“Look, sweetie,” Eden says, soothingly. “You’ve spent your adult life so far acting like you owe us something. Making our businesses look good, supporting our dreams. Maybe it’s time to focus on you.”
My throat chalks over. “You really think so?”
Esther pats Eden’s hand and shrugs. “Probably.” She smiles, taking the edge off. “Now go take a shower, shave your legs, and have a great time. Text us tomorrow with details. Not too many details. But enough.”
“I love you guys.”
“We love you too.” Eden blows a kiss at the camera. “Go get your yeti.”
By the time Asher’s due to arrive, my hair is cooperating for once, falling in soft waves past my shoulders. I put on mascara and lip gloss and the tiniest bit of blush, just enough to look like I tried without looking like I tried too hard.
I feel like I’m seventeen again, waiting for my prom date. Which is ridiculous; I’m a grown woman who runs her own business and just decided to convert a maple farm into a bed-and-breakfast. I should not be this nervous about dinner with a man I’ve already kissed.
But this is different. This is a beginning. A real one.
The knock comes exactly on time, and it doesn’t even sound grumpy.
I open the door, and he’s there, standing on my porch without his crutches—just a walking boot now, which must mean his ankle is healing well. He’s wearing dark jeans and a button-down shirt, forest green, and he’s trimmed his beard, so it looks intentional instead of “forgot to shave for a month.”
He looks good. Really good.
His eyes travel over me, and I watch his expression soften. “You look beautiful.”
“You clean up okay yourself.”
“I tried.” He holds out his hand. “Ready?”
I take it, and even that small contact—his palm warm and solid against mine—makes my blood fizz.
And then I burst into hysterics when I see he is driving Gran’s golf cart on the streets of Fork Lick to take me on our date. Apparently, he can operate one of those in a boot cast.
The restaurant is indeed a converted church, and I can see exactly why Esther was geeking out about it. The space is beautiful and cozy, and the drink menu is something my clever mixologist sister would envy.
Stained-glass windows cast colored light across exposed brick walls.
The pews have been replaced with intimate tables, each lit by candles in canning jars.
The altar area is now an open kitchen where I can see Bacon—tall, muscled, intensely focused—plating a meal with those arty swirls and flower garnishes.
“Wow,” I breathe as we step inside.
“Yeah.” Asher’s hand is warm on the small of my back. “Bacon’s done a lot with the place. It was falling apart when he bought it.”
A hostess I don’t recognize registers surprise at seeing Asher, then leads us to a corner table near one of the stained-glass windows. As we sit, I notice the window depicts not a religious scene but a pastoral one—rolling hills, apple trees, and a farmhouse in the distance.
“He had those commissioned from a local artist,” Asher says, following my gaze. “Each window shows a different Fork Lick farm where he sources ingredients.”
“That’s incredible.”
“He’s good at the details. Drove Colleen crazy when they were renovating. He wanted everything perfect.”
Before I can respond, a whirlwind arrives at our table in the form of Colleen Bedd, looking frazzled but happy, a small child clinging to each leg.
“Asher! Eva! I heard you were coming in tonight.” She grins, then grimaces as one of the twins grabs a fistful of her stomach. “Cassie, no. That hurts.”
“Mama,” the other twin says solemnly, reaching toward the candle on our table.
“And we don’t touch fire, Danny. We’ve talked about this.” Colleen takes a strategic step from the table, her clingers following. “Sorry, Bacon’s covering for someone who called in sick, so I’m on twin duty, which means I’m just trying to keep them from burning down their father’s restaurant.”
“They’re very adorable arsonists,” I say. They’re both watching me with the intense, unblinking stare that only preschoolers can pull off.
“They’re monsters,” Colleen says fondly. “Cute monsters, but monsters. Anyway, I just wanted to say hi and that Bacon’s doing a special tasting menu tonight. You’re in for a treat.”
“That sounds amazing.”
“It will be. He’s been testing recipes all week. Almost ran out of beer.” She shifts Danny behind her when he reaches for the candle again. “Also, Eva, I’ve been meaning to tell you… your content is so good. The stuff about Pierce Acres? I shared the Baabara video with everyone I know.”
“Thank you. That means a lot.”
“If you ever want to do something for this place, let me know. Bacon’s allergic to social media, but I keep telling him we need more presence. Maybe we can talk sometime?”
“I’d love that.”
Cassie chooses this moment to squirm violently, and Colleen sighs. “And that’s my cue. Enjoy your dinner! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” She winks and disappears toward the kitchen, both twins babbling at her in what sounds like a made-up language.
Asher watches her go with a faint smile. “She’s always like that.”
“I like her.”
“Everyone likes Colleen. She used to teach kindergarten.” He picks up the menu, then sets it back down. “The tasting menu is worth it if you’re up for it. Bacon knows what he’s doing.”
“You eat food that’s not frozen?”
He looks at me very earnestly. “I do when Bacon cooks it.”
After we order the chef’s choice, we’re alone with the candlelight and the soft murmur of other diners around us. “So,” I say. “This is a date.”
“Yeah.” He’s fidgeting with his napkin—a nervous habit I’ve never seen from him before. “I know I’m not… I mean, I haven’t done this in a while. But you deserve—”
“Asher.” I cover his hand with mine. “This is perfect. Stop worrying.”
He lets out a breath. “I’m not good at not worrying.”
“I’ve noticed.”
The first course arrives—local cheese and roasted beets and a drizzle of honey. It’s delicious, and it gives us something to focus on besides the nervous energy crackling between us.
“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” I say.
Asher considers this while chewing. “I hate mayonnaise.”
“Okay, something more interesting than condiment preferences.”
“That is interesting. Mayonnaise is a divisive topic.”
“Asher…”
He sets down his fork. “I wanted to be an engineer. Ethan and I had that in common. He’s great with mechanical shit, and I never met a structure I wasn’t obsessed with. I mean, have you seen the buttresses in this place?”