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Looking over her shoulder, my gaze drifts over the equipment we have. I am proud of what we make. “I don’t have a huge production here, but we do supply cider for a few of the local bars in town, like Route 11. I’ve been in talks with a few other orchards about cross-promotion, putting a few of theirs on tap and vice versa to create awareness when the time comes.”
She picks up the third glass. Her face twitches, and I have to suppress my laughter. This one has sour cherry mixed in.
She licks her lips. “I think that’s a great idea. You could even do something like a passport book with the other orchards. If everyone hands it out, you’ll help each other, and maybe once they get so many stamps from the visits, they get a prize or something.”
I don’t respond right away. I just stare at her, and her cheeks turn red.
“Whatever, it was just an idea,” she says, trying to downplay her thoughts.
“No, it’s a great idea. My mind went three steps ahead to Cole designing this. Sorry.”
She picks up the last glass and takes a sip.
No reaction this time.
She sets it down, points at the first glass, and says, “This one.”
12
CORA
It’s just after lunch when there’s a scratching on the front door. My heart rate picks up, as it’s not a soft scratching either. It’s loud and kind of rough.
Seriously, what kind of animal has shown up now?
I move closer to the door, wait, and sure enough, the scratching starts again.
Oh my God.
Are the deer trying to come into the house now? Is that scratching the big one with the horns? Are they all standing out there in solidarity, demanding food? Or maybe it’s not the deer. Perhaps it’s the raccoons or some other wild animal.
Slinking off to the side, I move to the living room window that overlooks the porch and peek out to see what’s there. The yard is empty, so whatever it is, it’s on the porch. Straining, I’m just barely able to make out a brown furry butt with a long tail that’s wagging.
A laugh bursts out of me as I think about all the other possibilities my mind went to.
Opening the door, I find a very old but happy brown Labrador.
“Hey there, buddy.”
I bend down to pet him and see the name Duke stitched into his collar. He wags his tail at the attention, then walks past me to the carpet in the living room and lays down.
Well then.
I close the door and move to the kitchen to watch him.
It’s weird to have an animal in the house.
Sure, I’ve been to other people’s houses where they have pets, like Avery’s, Ash’s, and Clay’s, but I’ve never had one in mine.
I move about the kitchen and make a cup of tea, all the while watching this dog sleep. People talk about how pets keep you company, and they’re not wrong. Even though he’s asleep, I no longer feel alone in the house.
Briggs must be wondering where he is. Then again, maybe with all of the people around today and the noise, Duke just wanted a moment of peace.
I can appreciate that.
Briggs was different with me today. I didn’t expect him to give me the tour or be so open. He talked to me like we were new friends, but I’ve seen the other side to him, the more dominant side, so I know it’s more like frenemies.
As the sunlight wanes and the hours pass, the low chatter from across the street dies down. I know today was the exception, as it’s opening day, but I can’t help but wonder exactly how many people will be coming up the road over the next two months. It surprised me when he asked me what I thought about him expanding, but I’m certain my preferences don’t really matter in the end.
