The threat of her cool reserve from earlier helped make up my mind.
“Fine.” I nodded and crossed behind the Cowboy Apple. Crouching low and feeling like an idiot, I stuck my face through the cutout.
“Smile,” Brady ordered cheerfully as he lined up the shot for far longer than was necessary. “Got it! They’ll love this.”
“Text me that,” I heard Candace call out as I straightened. She wore a devious smirk.
Brady laughed and then moseyed around the side of the tent, face glued to his phone.
Heat was creeping up my cheeks, but Candace didn’t look quite as standoffish as she had earlier in the morning. If I needed to embarrass myself on social media by posing with a giant apple to restore the peace, I guess that was fine.
Candace came to stand next to me. We worked in silence for a moment, packing apples into bags and lining them up on the table next to signs designating their variety.
“Thanks for being a good sport,” she said, smiling.
“Of course,” I murmured. “It was nothing.”
“I won’t really post it.”
Her words loosened the anxiety building. Even if I thought I could handle the attention, I still didn’t want it. Avoidance was second nature at this point in my life.
“Thanks,” I finally replied.
We resumed our work, but I could tell it was there on the tip of her tongue. A question about last night. A desire to clear the air. The space between us vibrated with things unsaid.
I couldn’t give her everything, but I could say something to ease the sudden tension that hadn’t been there since that very first day when she hadn’t remembered me.
I cleared my throat. “I had a good time last night...with you at Firefly.” Candace’s hand paused around a Golden Delicious apple. “I’m sorry I had to take off the way I did. But...but it’s probably better that way.”
Her hand finally gripped the apple, and she loaded it into a half-peck bag with the others. “I see.”
I took a risk and bumped my elbow with hers. “If you have any more events on the calendar, let me know. I’ll help out. I want to.”
There was a brief pause before she tapped my elbow in return and replied, “Okay. If you’re sure.”
Keeping my eyes forward on the box of produce, I gave Candace another half-truth. “That’s what friends are for.”
Eventually, things got busy and I didn’t have time to worry about what Candace was thinking. The four of us worked to stay stocked and to keep up with the lines of customers snaking down the side of our tent as the crush of bodies moved up and down Main Street.
With a positive attitude and a brilliant smile, Candace chipped in wherever she was needed. She took direction from Joan and worked tirelessly all day. She restocked apples and sold them to customers. Candace was friendly with the tourists and always stepped in to answer questions or talk up the orchard, undoubtedly knowing how much Joan hated upselling.
It was honestly a little hard to watch the way Candace so blatantly sought her older sister’s approval. But Joan was truly oblivious, just going about her work and keeping her head down. Candace kept her spirits up, and I tried not to wince at every thoughtless, unintentional jab Joan made.
It wasn’t until day one of the Orchard Festival was winding down that everything went to shit. The opening band had already taken the stage for tonight’s concert. Even from three blocks away, we could hear the strum of the guitar and the beat of drums. Foot traffic had dwindled in the last half hour as people made their way to the end of Main Street that housed the stage and the food trucks. As a result, we were already packing up.
Eloise Carter, the formidable head of the Festival Planning Committee, stopped in front of our booth as the sun crept closer to the horizon, clipboard in hand and stern expression eating into the lines of her face. “Good afternoon. Where are Nick and Amy? I wanted to have a word.”
Candace and Brady had taken the dolly and the first load of crates back to the truck, so it was just Joan and me left to speak with Ms. Carter.
“They’re handling the farm this weekend while the rest of us see to the festival,” Joan said, barely sparing the older woman a glance as she worked.
Eloise was no-nonsense and by the book. She was brutally honest and had no problem strong-arming people to get her way. She was probably after a permit for the Cowboy Apple or something else equally as tedious and ridiculous.
“I have some questions about their sponsorship.”
Joan sighed and finally looked up. “Do you need their number, Ms. Carter? Pretty sure it’s on your clipboard there.” And then she gave one of the most powerful women in town her back and picked up another crate of apples.
It was times like this that I really appreciated Joan’s general air of do-not-give-a-fuck. Eloise had a tendency to be an overbearing pain, but she’d met her match in the eldest Judd sibling.
