“Not completely, but comparing costs and negotiating with our produce vendor, we were able to get locally-harvested honey added to every order starting in a few weeks – practically for free.”
“Oh, well I can’t compete with free. Are you still buying your produce from New Jersey Nick?”
“Nah, we’ve been using Brooklyn Soil. Do you know it?”
Looking up from his laptop, Seth asks, “Tess, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Where’s Meg?”
He points to the kitchen door and replies, “In there prepping the jars.”
Thessaly drops her bag on the island and heads to the kitchen. Distressed, she sighs and whines, “Meg.”
“Hey – I thought you were taking a personal day.” Meg aligns a row of sterilized lids on a dishtowel and then crosses her arms.
“Pete’s dropping us in September.”
“What? Why?”
“They’re eliminating weekend brunch.”
“Well, that sucks. I’ve been trying to get reservations for weeks – the French toast is to die for!” Noticing Thessaly’s body language, she adds, “But they should still need honey.”
Thessaly scrunches her nose and groans. “Pete negotiated a free supply through his produce vendor.”
“I’m sorry, Tess. I can line up a list for new proposals this weekend,” Meg offers.
“Meg, the honey is coming from Levi’s farm.”
“Since when?”
“Since, now.”
“That sexy, sneaky bastard. Do you think he’s a mole?” Meg asks, shaking her head.
“I don’t know what to think, honestly. He’s asked me a few questions, but I just assumed it was an interest in me and not the honey business.” Slumping over and turning ashen, Thessaly adds, “Oh, shit. I’m going to be sick.”
“Tess, don’t think the worst, please. I’m just a horrible person that believes people generally suck.”
Removing her phone from her pocket, Thessaly pecks at the screen and says, “I’m going to text him. I have to know.”
Tess: Does your farm have honey?
Thessaly shows the text to Meg before hitting send. Swallowing back the lump in her throat, she waits for his reply.
Levi: Not yet. But I’ll show you the apiary tonight.
“Is he lying?”
“Why would he lie?” Meg counters.
Rubbing her temples, Thessaly mutters, “I’m so confused. And dehydrated.”
Meg grabs a bottle of water from the refrigerator and opens it. “Drink up. And then go home. Are you seeing him tonight?”
Gulping back half of the water, she shakes her head. “I was invited to the rooftop’s dinner party – I’ll see how I feel.”
“You should definitely go. Corner him. Rip his clothes off and interrogate him. Interrogate him real good.”
“Are you insane?” Thessaly shudders.
“I’m sane. Tess, relax.” Pointing to the crates of peaches stacked in the corner, Meg adds, “And I think everything with Levi is peachy.”
“Your puns really suck.”
“But you’re smiling?” Meg teases.
Of course the peaches make her smile – any time she thinks of Levi she smiles. But the constant spontaneity of emotions and actions scare her. At least with Mason, things are simple.
Grabbing the bottle of water, Thessaly says, “Shit, I need to meet Shelby at my apartment. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“I’ll stop by the store tomorrow afternoon. I’d love to see Dr. Shelby and ask him about this weird bump on my leg.” Meg lifts her leg and points to a red blemish.
“He wants to be a neurosurgeon, but I’m sure Shelby would love to look at your legs.”
“Tess, will you talk to Levi sooner than later?”
“Promise,” Thessaly agrees, patting Meg’s shoulder as she leaves the kitchen.
Helping a customer at the register, Seth nods to Thessaly as she walks out the door.
Focused on her thoughts, Thessaly makes her way up Fulton in a daze. If she were to make a pro/con list for Levi, and one for Mason, the results would be the same, yet entirely opposite. Both men put their heart into their careers, although one makes work his primary focus. Both men appear to like sex, although one has yet to make the move and the other has no new moves. Both men send flowers, although one sends delicate, pink peonies, and the other brings a bouquet of wildflowers.
Before she enters her building, Thessaly checks to see if Lucas is still in the alcove. Maybe she seeks his advice, or maybe she needs to know the answer to love. But to her surprise, he’s not there. The sleeping bag and the cardboard sign rest against the wall, but his other belongings, as well as her Thermos and basket, are not to be seen.
Maybe he’s on a bathroom break, she thinks.
“Tess!”
Thessaly turns toward the familiar voice to find her baby brother, Shelby. Crossing the street with a black duffel bag and a Papaya Dog hot dog, he embraces his sister in an open hug and smiles.
“I see you found a healthy snack,” Thessaly jokes.
Taking a bite, Shelby mutters, “I had to wait in line for twenty minutes, but yeah, this shit is good.”
The two siblings take the elevator up to Thessaly’s apartment while Thessaly apologizes. “I’m meeting Mason for drinks – you’re welcome to come, but I think he’d prefer if you didn’t.”
“No thanks, I’ll find something to do.”
Unlocking the apartment door and giving Shelby the key, Thessaly suggests, “There’s usually an outdoor concert on Friday nights, or I could have Meg and Seth meet up with you for dinner.”
“Yeah, I don’t know them. Do they live in your building?”
Thessaly slaps his arm and yells, “Meg and Seth. From the shop!”
“Whoa, I completely forgot about them.” Tossing his bag on the floor next to the couch and combing the refrigerator for a beer, Shelby whines, “Cider all you got?”
“Vodka’s in the cabinet.”
Shutting the refrigerator door and crossing his arms, Shelby laughs. “Do I look like Aunt Jenny watching soap operas?”
Thessaly snorts and shrugs her shoulders. “Plenty of men enjoy vodka. And I love vodka.”
Kicking off his sneakers, Shelby shakes his head and says, “I’m taking a shower.”
“Hurry up!” she demands.
Shelby closes the bathroom door behind him while Thessaly rummages through her closet. She removes a sleeveless navy dress that barely hits her knees, but Mason will enjoy the classic color with a flash of skin.
As she places her phone in the charger, it vibrates with a text from Levi.
Levi: Lobster. Corn. Blueberry pie.
Tess: I might be late. Don’t wait for me.
Levi: Pie, Tess. We have pie.
Chapter Nine
The dinner scene on a Friday night in the Financial District is similar to a college reunion. Even in a city with eight-million people, it’s easy to run into a dozen familiar faces before the night is over. Thessaly waves to a few ladies she knows from her former tennis club, and then joins Mason and two men nursing whiskey sours.
This is the second time this week a date has been foiled by other guests.
“Tess,” Mason says, standing from his chair to greet her. Mason places his hands on the waist of her little blue dress and kisses her quickly on the mouth. Taking her hand and turning back around to the table of men, he adds, “Gentlemen, we’ll need our table now.”
Gathering their drinks, the men stand from the table and stare at Thessaly with approval. “Good choice, Andrews,” says the man with the plaid bowtie. “See you out east tomorrow?”