Seth places the drink tray on the counter and removes Meg’s iced coffee. Setting it in front of her and gently brushing her bare shoulder, he whispers, “Creamy – just the way you like it.”
Meg squirms under his touch and laughs nervously. “Ha, um, yeah.”
Taking her iced latte from the tray and wiping the condensation with a napkin, Thessaly shakes her head. “Can you two just do it already?”
Seth glances at Meg’s tense shoulders and red cheeks. “I wish, Tess. Meg’s way too good for a guy like me. And I’m completely content knowing I get to see her pretty face at work every day. And on the rare occasion, I get to make her laugh.”
Meg, head lowered, smiles from ear-to-ear. “What did you want to talk about, Tess?” Meg’s voice cracks as she raises her head.
“Oh, God, it’s really silly and insignificant, but I saw Mason last night – at my apartment.”
“You let him come to your apartment?” Seth confirms, pulling up a stool next to Meg.
“Yep, for a booty call.”
“Wait, did you just say booty call?” asks Meg.
Smiling, Thessaly teases, “And what do the hip kids of the Village call it these days?”
“Personally, I find that hooking up is vague yet classy,” Seth interjects, secretly pinching Meg’s thigh under the counter.
Thessaly arches her eyebrow and complies. “Fine. Mason wanted to hook up.”
“End your sentence with yo for emphasis.”
“Mason wanted to hook up, yo!” Thessaly chirps.
Meg and Seth smile and demand in unison, “Continue.”
“So he came by and we messed around a little – but I wasn’t feeling it. Maybe I realized something was missing. Like, where’s the passion? The give and take?”
“Go on,” Seth instructs while chomping on ice.
“He had me pinned against the wall,” she reveals, suddenly ashamed. “Anyway, all I could think about was the need for honey sticks.”
Snickering, Seth asks, “Should I insert a joke now?”
“I’m talking about honey in sticks. They’re treats.”
“I bet they are,” he panders.
“You killed the mood, didn’t you, Tess?” asks Meg.
“Not even close. Mason is tenacious and always gets what he wants. Very few things will stop him.”
“Like?”
“Like, I told him I wanted to date other people.”
Meg laughs while Seth shakes his head. “Lemme guess . . .” he starts.
“Now he wants you, right?” Meg snorts.
“He didn’t want to believe me about the dating, he’s so arrogant, but this morning, he sent me five texts – the five stages of jealousy.” Thessaly reads from her phone in a deep voice. “I love you. We belong together and I was stupid for not seeing that sooner. We have a history and a future. No prick is good enough for you. I won’t wait for you to change your mind.”
Meg’s jaw drops as Seth whistles.
“Wow, that’s some lame shit,” Meg says flatly.
Seth grabs Thessaly’s phone and insists, “Don’t text him back! I want to see how far this goes.”
Standing from the island, Thessaly yanks her phone out of Seth’s hand. “He won’t give up.”
“Maybe you need a sexy farmer with a hankering for ice cream to kick his ass,” Meg suggests with a smile.
“Maybe so.”
Using the iPad to research Shelter Island weddings, Thessaly quickly checks Pinterest to gather a few ideas. She always tries to stay away from cheesy puns when it comes to using her products as gifts, and the best way to avoid clichéd phrases is to show an elegant bride how overused that crap really is.
Aware that her two o’clock appointment arrived early, Thessaly watches as they wander around the store. Overhearing their remarks about the gorgeous packaging of the confections and the exquisite modern design of her shop, Thessaly takes the opportunity to approach the ladies.
“Hello, welcome to The Hive. I’m Thessaly Sinclair.” Extending her arm and motioning toward the island, Thessaly adds, “We can chat over here.” As the women sit with their designer handbags and remove their iPads and folders, Thessaly signals to Meg standing near the register. Taking her cue, Meg heads to the kitchen to retrieve the glorified refreshments.
Smiling and arching her Botox-ridden eyebrows, the wedding planner exclaims, “Thessaly, it is so nice to meet you – I’m Mindy Hollis-Klein. We’re absolutely in love with your shop!” Tapping the island in front of the bride, she adds, “Heather and I were discussing how your honey and jams are like little pieces of art.”
“Thank you,” Thessaly replies, sitting down across from the two women. “I take great pride in my family’s farm – it was only right to share it with the Seaport.”
Meg arrives at the island carrying a wicker tray of warm cornbread, and a sampling of jams and honey. Thessaly places a small plate in front of each woman with a smile. “I hope y’all are hungry.”
Heather’s eyes expand with horror, terrified of ingesting unwanted calories before her wedding. “It smells delicious, Thessaly, but I’ll just have a water with lemon.”
Mindy uses the serving tongs and places a small portion of cornbread on her plate. “Think of this as a tasting, Heather. Jam or honey?”
Suggesting something lighter, Thessaly offers, “Try the peach-infused honey, Heather. No added sugar and the taste is phenomenal. I also have sugar-free strawberry jam you could spread on a low-fat rice cake.”
“No, please don’t bother – I’ll rely on Mindy’s impeccable taste. Does the honey come from your family’s farm? I’m so fascinated with the subject.”
“It does! I receive raw, harvested honey shipments every few months and then I package it in my shop.” Thessaly opens a photo album on her tablet and shows the ladies previous examples of custom products. “Mindy will direct me as to what you’ll want during your reception – from there, we can create almost any flavor and personalized packaging specifically for your wedding.”
In a hoity voice reserved for the Manhattan elite, Mindy reveals, “Heather’s fiancé owns a lovely property on Shelter Island. Since family and friends from all over the country will be attending, they’re graciously hosting a destination weekend wedding. Every detail is important, as I’m sure you understand.”
Heather opens an album on her iPad and scrolls through the pictures of the white and blue beachfront estate. “Dennis and I want our guests to enjoy a weekend getaway while attending our wedding. The rehearsal dinner will be outside featuring a feast of an autumn harvest. We’ve planned a pancake breakfast the following morning, lunch in town, boating activities, a trip to the winery, and then on Saturday night, a reception that will impress Julia Pierce. Nothing over the top or pretentious though – Dennis and I want the wedding to mimic an upscale bed and breakfast.”
“Oh, Heather, it looks amazing – will Julia Pierce be there? I love her columns,” Thessaly adds, glancing in her periphery as a burly delivery man enters her shop.
“She’s doing a two-page spread!” Heather beams.
Rising from the island, Thessaly asks, “Two pages? Can you excuse me for a moment?”
“Of course, dear. I’ll just be sampling this strawberry jam.”
Joining Meg as she tries to answer the silly questions of a young couple, Thessaly nudges her hip. It never ceases to amaze her that honey and jam can bring so much debate.
“Hi, you will love the light and fragrant taste of the lavender honey. I’ll have Meg bring you some tea,” Thessaly offers.
“What’s up?” asks Meg when the couple leaves.
“Can you bring the wedding chicks some water with lemon? There’s a delivery guy here unloading crates, but I didn’t order anything.”
Meg glances at the door and shrugs her shoulders. Plodding to the kitchen, she mumbles, “Water and tea.”