Candace moved quickly and confidently, smiling at her helpers and chatting as she went. She didn’t appear flustered by the crowd or the folks wandering up to ask her questions before the event started. She looked completely in control and ready for the turnout, whatever that may be.
From what I’d seen on the social media posts from the orchard and Firefly, they’d sold advance tickets for the event as a way to gauge numbers and cover the cost of the cider. But they’d also intended to sell cider-and-apple-pairing event tickets at the door tonight.
As I ascended the steps to the covered porch, Candace glanced up and did a double take. “Hey! You came.”
I nodded and tried not to focus on the way her smile lit up her entire face. I didn’t want to read too much into her expression. Probably just surprise and relief at having an extra pair of hands.
“Great turnout,” I said, dipping my head in the direction of all the customers milling about. “How can I help?”
Her gaze took in the matching Judd’s Orchard shirt I wore before coming back to my face. “Thanks for coming out. I didn’t think it would be this busy.”
Candace waved me over behind the table and squeezed my arm in greeting when I reached her side. I could feel her sweetness and gratitude in the simple show of affection, and I resisted the urge to squeeze her back.
She showed me what she was doing—pairing up the apple varieties with the various ciders and positioning everything on the extra-wide flight boards. There were cups of McIntosh, Gala with peanut butter, Golden Delicious with a caramel drizzle, and slices of Cosmic Crisp.
The Firefly employees were set up to take the tickets, hand out the flight boards, and pass the customers a postcard-sized handout with a list of what they’d be drinking and eating.
Together, Candace and I worked for the next hour to prep the boards as they were steadily distributed. We got into a rhythm and barely looked up until Rhonda, one of the Firefly employees, nudged us and said, “We’re through most of the preregistered tickets, do you have enough stock if we open it up and sell more?”
Candace glanced in the coolers beneath the table and did some quick mental math. “We have enough for fifty more flight boards.”
Rhonda grinned. “These will go fast. People are digging it. We had to open up the field for more parking.”
Candace thanked the woman who typically bartended but was pitching in tonight for the event.
Then Candace turned to me and smiled before letting out a huge sigh. “I’m so glad it’s going well.”
I eyed her and the visible relief that was plain to see on her face. I never would have guessed she had been nervous about the turnout or the success of the event she’d orchestrated and made a reality. She’d been so steady and sure all evening—cheerful with guests and workers, laughing and smiling the whole time.
“Were you worried?” I asked quietly as she passed me more cups of sliced apples.
She shrugged before crouching next to the coolers. “I mean, yeah. I hoped it would go well, but I didn’t know for sure. I didn’t want it to flop and let anyone down. Who knows? Maybe all these people are just here for the band.”
I frowned. “They’re not here for the band.”
But Candace didn’t respond. She busied herself, unloading the remaining contents of the cooler onto the table.
I crouched beside her.
“Candace,” I said softly, stilling her hands with my own. She met my eyes warily. “You did the research. You talked to Jordan and Firefly about the logistics. You planned and you promoted. You did the work. Even if three people had shown up tonight, no one would be disappointed in you. This event isn’t a reflection on you as an orchard employee or a Judd.”
Candace listened as I spoke, but I could tell she wasn’t entirely convinced. However, after a moment, she eventually nodded. “Thanks, Mark. And thanks for showing up tonight. It was nice to have backup.”
“Anytime.”
We worked to prep the extra boards and then we sold apples. An hour later, when all the stock was gone, I helped Candace pack up her things and take them to the parking lot. She was upbeat—no doubt riding the high from her success tonight.
After closing the lid of the Passat’s trunk, she blurted, “Would you want to stay and have a drink with me?”
Her abrupt invitation surprised me, but it also had something warm and weighty flooding my veins. This was a drink. It was casual. Not a big deal, I reminded myself. Maybe she wasn’t asking me to prom, but thisfeltjust as important for the boy who still remembered what color her dress was senior year.
The corners of my lips turned up in anticipation, and I felt theyesgathering on my tongue. But then instinct took over. I eyed the crowds still milling about. The band had about a half hour left on their set, and while the outdoor seating area wasn’t as busy as it had been earlier, there was still a good amount of people. Yet hardly any of them were locals. I could count on one hand how many folks I’d recognized tonight as Candace and I had worked side by side.
It was safe to assume that this wasn’t the Kirby Falls Baptist crowd. It was mostly tourists, strangers—people who didn’t know me. I’d take them any day over folks who assumed they did.
It was probably safe to stay and have a cider before heading out.
Plus, I wanted to. Despite my innate avoidance of my judgy neighbors and any places where they might show up, I’d come to Firefly because I wanted to help the orchard—and Candace. And, if I was being honest, I was eager to spend more time with her.
