“Seems like it’s all coming back to you.”
“Thanks, Mark,” she said, sounding grateful. “And I didn’t get a chance to thank you for stepping in during the meeting the other day and bailing me out. I appreciate it.”
Truthfully, I’d been relieved that Nick and Amy had vied for Candace’s attention following the meeting. I’d seen Candace’s expectant gaze and the gratitude waiting on the tip of her tongue.
But for some reason, I hadn’t wanted her thanks.
Working with family was tough. Watching Candace slowly slip out of her professional role that day had been difficult. She’d sat there, tense and unmoving, through Joan’s remarks like it was her due. I was in the unique position as an outsider, and while I wouldn’t have normally inserted myself into their family business, I could see that they needed a new perspective to balance things out. And the very fact that I didn’t usually speak up had the added effect of ensuring I was heard.
“I wouldn’t call it a bailout,” I said, not looking her way. “More of calling a time-out. Have y’all talked more about your plans yet?”
Candace shook her head. “Not really. Mom and Dad are adamant that I do whatever I want, but I don’t want to step on any toes. So far, we’ve settled on the things I can manage myself, like scheduling events. I have another handout for today’s market, this one advertising birthday parties and a hard-cider-and-apple-pairing event with Firefly on the Friday before the Orchard Festival. But that’s all I’m really willing to move forward on right now. Still haven’t heard from Joan.”
I made sure my sigh was internal. I’d had that conversation in the fields with Joan three days ago. Maybe she was still thinking. More likely, she was trying to figure out how to swallow her pride.
“I think that pairing event will do well,” I said. “Let me know if you need any help with it.”
She smiled. “Thanks. I think I’ll be alright. We’re having it over at Firefly since I’m still working on the liquor license for the orchard. I’ll just need to bring over the apples we’ll be using and some extra to sell.”
I was already mentally adding the event to my calendar. Not that it was all that busy, but I wanted to make myself available. Be a good co-worker. I didn’t want Candace to have to tackle this first one on her own.
And if there was some other reason I was risking interacting publicly with Kirby Falls residents or looking forward to spending time with Candace, then that was something I’d worry about later. Like when this was all over and Candace was back in New York, where she belonged.
The rest of loading up and setting up went by easy enough. Candace wanted to act like she was the new kid on the block, but she was knowledgeable about theorchard and knew what she was doing. She didn’t need to look to me for instructions, most of it was second nature for her.
An hour later, when we were sipping our Cubhouse coffees at our booth on Main Street, waiting on customers, I decided to ask Candace about her life in New York. I knew bits and pieces from what Nick and Amy mentioned, but I was curious about her.
“So, what made you settle in New York?”
If she was surprised by my question, she didn’t show it. “Well, I went to Columbia for undergrad and grad school, so I was already in the city. Then I got an internship, so it just made sense to stay. There were more job opportunities there, and I’d finally gotten used to living in a big city.”
“That makes sense. You liked it though?”
Candace took another sip of her apple crisp latte and licked a tiny dot of foam off her upper lip.
I swallowed and glanced away.
“I did like it—do like it there. It’s fast-paced and exciting. There’s always a takeout place open no matter the time of day. I used to take my lunch break and go for a walk in Central Park or visit a museum. I was never bored, that’s for sure. It’s different than home though. I like having space here. Quiet. Room to breathe, you know?”
I nodded because I did know. College in Raleigh, North Carolina, had been fine. It was bigger than Kirby Falls, but not unmanageable. But I liked the pace of where I lived now. I loved the mountains and the land and growing things. I couldn’t imagine living somewhere like New York, with all its steel and concrete and noise and people.
It was interesting to me that Candace still thought of Kirby Falls as home. Seven years somewhere else might start to sway your allegiance. But maybe that was just the transplant in me talking. I wasn’t born in Kirby Falls, but I considered it home all the same.
“What do you miss most?” I wondered.
She hummed a little and took another sip from her paper cup. Then, face bright, she turned to me and lightly nudged my knee with hers. “I’ve got it. There wasthis little pie shop three blocks from my apartment. It was never very busy, and they stayed open late. I liked working there on Saturdays and grabbing a slice of pie on my way home. The owners were an older couple from this small town in northeast Georgia. We used to talk about sweet tea and the mountains and everything we missed about home.” Her hazel eyes drifted over my shoulder as she considered. “They were sweet to me. And they made the best pie. Don’t tell Mom I said that.”
I grinned. “What was your favorite kind?”
“Key lime. No, actually, this Oreo mousse pie they made once a month. And you had to get there early or it would sell out.” She seemed wistful, attention distant, until her gaze snapped back to mine. She gave me another knee nudge that was casual for her, but had me hyper-aware. “What’s your favorite kind of pie?”
Candace waited for my answer like it was a big deal. Like she was unearthing something mysterious and monumental about my personality. I was a little worried about letting her down when I admitted, “Apple pie is my favorite.”
But she nodded agreeably, and her knee touched mine once more. “Classic choice. I approve.”
As silly as it was, I liked having her approval. We were just talking about pie. It didn’t really mean anything. But with the feel of her leg against mine, and the weight of her attention and focus, I was having trouble shepherding my thoughts.
It had been so long since I’d met someone new—someone who didn’t think they knew everything about me. Wenn had been the last friend I’d made, and we didn’t share our histories or personal lives. Hell, he didn’t ask what sort of pie I liked. He just brought me whatever he was baking that week and hoped I wasn’t allergic.
