Chapter 7
Ever
“Thanks for stopping in, and don’t forget to check out the honey cakes at Sparky’s and the honey, maple-cured bacon at Red’s and vote for your favorite.
” I hand the customer the bag with their purchase, along with a postcard with a QR code.
He passes it off to his husband, who tucks it in the stroller's bottom. Their toddler plays with the plush beehive and bees that was one of their purchases. “The diner with the most votes at the end of the month will make a donation to Vermont’s Bee Conservancy. All the honey they use at the diners is locally sourced.”
Asa came up with the idea of using the town’s warring diners to the bees’ advantage.
Each month, the diners select a honey-inspired dish for the “contest” and the proceeds from those dishes go to the charity.
Both diners make the donation whether they win or lose, but it’s all about the bragging rights for them.
The taller of the two men pats his non-existent belly. “Any excuse to eat more baked goods and bacon.”
“Like you need an excuse.” His partner tips on his toes and kisses him on the cheek. The simple act is so natural, and something about it squeezes my insides.
I wave my goodbyes as I watch the baked goods guy tip his head to his man’s ear and whisper something.
The man’s laughter lights up the store, and he shakes his head as Baked Goods holds the door open for him to push the stroller through, leaving in their wake an air of effervescence.
With the clatter of the bell, the door swings shut and my gaze travels to the ticking honeypot hanging on the wall.
I still have hours until I meet Dmitri and every minute is longer than the last.
“It’s only been ten minutes since the last time you looked.” Asa keeps her eyes on the tablet in her hands as she color codes the Community Calendar we hang in the shop with all the events and workshops we hold each month.
My cheeks warm, but there’s no way I’m giving Asa the satisfaction of knowing she’s right.
Barely old enough to drink, my sprite-sized worker is scary perceptive, and feeding the Maplewood rumor mill isn’t on my list of things to do today.
Not that Asa would intentionally say anything.
She just sometimes doesn’t have the best filter. “How do you know what I’m looking at?”
Asa raises her brown eyes. They’re so big and round, almost too big for her slender face, and I’m momentarily taken aback by their beauty. “Were you trying to be unobtrusive?”
“No.” Yes, but apparently I failed.
She sets the tablet down on the counter and swivels on her stool until she’s facing me. “What’s going on? You’ve been antsy since the festival.”
I straighten the area around the register, plunking a wayward pen into the cup of pens next to it. If I thought I was interested in Dmitri—which I most certainly was—it multiplied after our impromptu playing session yesterday. “I met someone.”
“And?” Asa cocks her bleached blond head to the side, her peacock earrings dangle, showing off their brightly colored feathers like live birds strutting their stuff.
“He’s just visiting.”
Expression one of curiosity, she sits straighter and peers at me. Actually, that may not be correct. Asa’s expression typically looks like she is waiting for you to explain yourself, so she can better understand what the hell you’re going on about. “And that is bad because…”
“It’s not necessarily bad . It’s just…” I slip around the counter to the children’s corner to straighten the books. “He’s not here for long. So what’s the point?”
“You’re excited about meeting this person, but you don’t want to pursue anything with him because he will leave?”
I nod.
She continues to watch me, her expression unchanged, but knowing Asa, her mind has a tornado of thoughts and ideas whirling around all at once. “You’re afraid of being hurt when he leaves?”
“It just seems silly to be a vacation fling for someone at my age.” My eyes move to the clock.
“We played together yesterday. In the field. He plays the violin.” Second principal in the Philadelphia Orchestra and a long list of musical accomplishments, each one more impressive than the last, according to my quick Google search. “It was… Lovely.”
“You didn’t answer my question.” Her monotone voice is both soothing and intimidating at the same time. “Are you afraid of being hurt when he leaves?”
I focus on sorting books that don’t need sorting while I ignore the precision of her question. More so, I want to ignore the pinch in my chest when I think about the answer. “Tell me why I hired you again?”
“Because I keep you and this shop organized so you can focus on the apiary services you love so much.” Her unreadable gaze cracks with the slightest curve of her mouth. “And you wouldn’t know what to do without me.”
“True.” I rise from my crouched stance, my knees cracking as if to support my theory that I’m too damn old to mess around with tourists.
As usual, she cuts to the heart of my reticence.
“I guess I am concerned that one of us will be more invested than the other.” Since the incident five years ago, I’ve always thought it would be the tourist who would want to take things further than me.
But the connection I felt with Dmitri was indescribable, and it only strengthened when we played together.
Now, I’m wondering if it would be me who would want more than a fling, and that’s a little terrifying.
Asa returns to the stool behind the counter.
Her bubblegum mesh skirt swishes just above her knees, which are covered with black fishnet tights.
Pink Converse high tops and a black Honey Spot tee complete her outfit.
Somehow, she looks professional, adorable, and a tad menacing.
She picks up the tablet again, her gaze on it when she says, “Perhaps he’ll surprise you. ”
She’s right. Getting worked up about what might happen is ridiculous.
I’m acting like a teen rather than the middle-aged adult I am.
Excitement bubbles up in my chest and I hurry to the back room to grab the jacket I wore this morning.
When I return to the front of the shop, Asa’s assisting a customer while two others peruse the shelves.
“You good if I leave?” Typically, I would wait until customers were gone, but the desire to get to the field so I don’t miss Dmitri propels my feet to the door.
Asa gives one quick nod and continues to expound on the differences between whipped and regular honey as I rush out the door. The banging of the bell dulled by the music playing in my head and the prospect of seeing Dmitri again.