Page 29 of Heartland

“Good tip,” she says. “What retail price would you put on eight of these? If they were a little smaller.”

“Let’s weigh a couple and think about it,” he says.

I know when I’m not needed, so I just stand back and let it all happen.

“You make ’em yourself, right?” Bud asks as he places four caramels on the scale where they weigh out cheeses.

“We do!” Chastity says. “In a state-licensed commercial kitchen, of course. From organic Vermont goat’s milk and organic sugar. We’ll do a fifty percent wholesale discount, or maybe fifty-five percent for larger orders. What do you think about five dollars for the small box?”

“That price is a little low, honey,” he says. “Might wanna mark ’em up after you charm a few more geezers like me. I think you should say eight bucks.”

“Yikes, really?” Chastity is all smiles.

“Really. This is a premium product, and it’s just the kind of thing people expect to find in small shops like mine.”

I chime in for the first time. “My brother would say eight. He leans into the luxury market, too.”

“That’s right,” Bud agrees. “Griffin works his tuchus off for those ciders. And he prices them accordingly. Now is not the time for imposter’s syndrome.”

“I don’t even know what that is,” Chastity says.

He laughs. “Doesn’t matter. Go make some more beautiful candy. When will I hear from you to place my order?”

“Two weeks?” I suggest. “We’ll need to start delivering caramels by the second week of November. We don’t want to miss the holiday buyers.”

“Good deal, kids.” He hands me a business card. “Nice doing business with a cute couple like you. I was young once.”

“Thank you, sir,” I say, declining to correct him. No sense in arguing with our new customer. I glance at Chastity right as her face flushes pink. “Have a great day.”

“You too, son. Can’t wait to order a few dozen boxes.”

Chastity looks so happy she might explode. And we zip right out of that store before he can change his mind. I hold the door for Chastity, who practically dances out into the parking lot. Before we reach the truck, I hug-tackle her, scooping her up.

She squeaks as I whirl her around. “Dylan!”

“What? I’m excited.” If my goats become an asset instead of a liability, that’s awesome.

I set Chastity down on her feet again, and she turns to face me, chest heaving, eyes bright. I have the terrible urge to kiss her. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. Maybe I’ve had too much coffee, or maybe it’s a whole weekend of celibacy. But she looks so fresh and pretty in the yellow autumn light. She’s looking up at me with wide eyes.

Does she feel it too? Is temporary insanity contagious?

I take a quick step backward. “Great work in there.”

“Thanks,” she says turning to open the door of my truck.

I hop in on the other side and crank the engine. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but that nice old man liked chatting with you. I think it helped.”

“Well.” She sniffs. “Good to know. And if any of these shops are run by women, you can flex for them when you hand over the box. Maybe leave a couple of buttons open on your flannel shirt.”

I let out a startled bark of laughter. “Okay. Whatever it takes. You’re a shark, Chastity.”

“No kidding. I’m not the nice girl everyone thinks I am.”

“You’re very nice. What’s wrong with nice?” I’m pretty nice myself.

She doesn’t answer the question. “I only have two weeks to source all the packaging and come up with an order form. We still need a name and a design.”

“I’ll start sketching cute little goats.” Honestly, I feel gleeful about this. “Do we need any extra equipment to scale up? Bigger pans?”