Page 11 of Sweater Weather (Sapphire Falls Orchard #1)

ELEVEN

Bells

T illy is the first thing on my mind when I wake up.

Well, actually she’s the second, after the stinging hangover headache.

But that’s her fault too for recommending those tequila sunrise drinks Bill kept making.

After our little performance, I had to pretend to be Tilly’s fiancée all night, so we sat together and drank with her friends.

It’s nice seeing a different side of her—the side I might have gotten to know if Aunt Blake had left her the orchard instead of me.

She has this amazing smile that I try committing to memory, just in case last night was a case of beer goggles.

I get out of bed, head for the bathroom, and grab the bottle of Motrin.

I take two pills while I pee before I jump in the shower.

My makeup from last night is smudged on my face, and my hair is a tangled mess.

Today is my day off from the orchard and from my actual job, so I have time to take a relaxing shower.

I turn up the heat and let it get all steamy.

By the time I come out, all the mirrors are fogged, and I feel like a new person.

I change into comfy clothes and make a fresh cup of coffee.

Standing on my back porch in my slippers, I overlook the orchard.

It’s more crowded today, and everyone has my number if they need me, but I suspect they won’t.

From what I’ve learned, this place is a well-oiled machine.

Everyone knows what they’re doing and where they should be.

It’s still not anywhere near capacity or where I’d like it to be.

I’m hoping to introduce some of the new ideas on Monday along with the new website.

I know there’s going to be some pushback at first, especially from Tilly, but I’m hoping she understands.

Finishing my coffee, I decide to tackle the one thing I’ve been putting off—going through Aunt Blake’s bedroom.

Most of the house I’ve already cleaned out of anything unnecessary, all the medical equipment was donated, and I’ve gotten my stuff moved in.

Bracing myself and grabbing garbage bags and boxes on the way, I head for Aunt Blake’s bedroom.

It’s a bit of a mess; it seems like someone was looking for something and was in a rush.

I wonder if that was Aunt Blake or someone who took care of her while she was sick.

Starting small, I open her bedside table.

It’s full of random notes, none of which I can make out, but they’re definitely in her handwriting.

I’m just glad I don’t find a box of condoms or something.

I don’t think I’d want to find that. Under the bed is next, which is of course filled with dust—mostly old shoes, dust bunnies, and a few pieces of clothes that must have gotten kicked under there by mistake.

I toss all the clothes and shoes into boxes for donation.

Everything is a little dusty but otherwise in great condition.

In the top drawer of her dresser, I find three envelopes, each one addressed to Tilly, Hattie, and Lina.

They aren’t sealed, so I open them just to scan them, maybe to find some indication why she chose me as the orchard heir.

Lina and Hattie’s are harmless, even kind, but it’s Tilly’s that gives me pause.

She explains why she didn’t leave the orchard to Tilly and how it’s failing.

Apparently, my aunt had been keeping track of me and what I’d been doing with my life.

She had faith that I could turn things around for everyone.

And if I couldn’t, at least Tilly wouldn’t be stuck in a field of debt or having to claim bankruptcy.

It’s kind, and it makes a lot of sense, but I can’t give her this yet.

If I give her this, she’ll learn the truth about the orchard’s status, and there’s no sense in making her worry more than I already am.

I take the three letters and bring them to my room, tucking them into the bottom drawer of my dresser.

Once I figure things out either way, I’ll give them all the notes.

The rest of the room is fairly easy to clean out.

I still don’t want to sleep in there; it feels too much like being in someone else’s space.

At least it’s cleaned out, and I know the local donation shop is happy for all these clothes and items. I’ll have to call them again to collect the rest this week.

Grabbing the stack of papers I printed, I start hanging them up in the office.

I’m narrowing down which things would be the least costly but bring in the biggest audience.

The office is already cleaned out of Aunt Blake’s stuff, so I’ve turned it into my own.

My desk is a mess between the actual work I’m doing for the nonprofit and the budget for the orchard.

The wall above my desk is covered in ideas either on Post-its or printer paper.

I need to finalize everything today so we can have whatever we need ordered by the fall season, which apparently starts at the end of August. I think that’s too hot for people to be visiting, but according to the staff, they come in their fall attire and buy apples, eat apple-cider donuts, and take the hayrides.

So far, I have the basics. There’s going to be more of a focus on things we can advertise online.

I’m sticking with setting up the influencer days, but I also want to focus on family activities and maybe a few date-night-themed activities.

Some of them include outsourcing things like a DJ for a line-dancing night and a bartender for a bar night with apple-cider flights.

But others, like the masquerade dance, don’t need too much except for decorations.

What I’m most excited about is pairing with the Sapphire Falls library, where all the locals who have or open a library card get free apple-picking admission and discounted tickets.

It’s something I hope will bring in more of the local community, like Tilly wants.

I’ve also contacted my friends in the city and managed to get a discount on Metro-North tickets for anyone visiting the orchard for an event.

By bringing in city people—as Tilly calls them—we’ll be able to increase our sales.

Maybe the locals aren’t the ones with social media, but everyone in the city loves posting about whatever they’re doing and bragging about where they went.

All it takes is a few aesthetic photos or videos to go viral, and we’ll be crawling with people.

I’ll have to sell it to Tilly. I know I don’t need her permission to do anything, but I like having her on board.

Now that I know how close she and my aunt were, it feels like I’m getting my aunt’s approval if I get hers.

Of course, I’ve always been someone to have unrealistic expectations.

I’m typing up the final calendar of events for the fall when I hear someone knocking at my door.

“Who is it?” I call out.

“Lina!” she shouts cheerfully. I open the front door and find the beautiful blonde on my porch.

“What’s up?” I’m not really dressed for company. I pull my robe closed over my very short shorts.

“I made some new things I’d like to sell at the bakery. I used to have Benny try everything before I officially put it on the menu and wasn’t sure if you’d like to do the same.” She smiles, holding a wrapped tray that smells divine.

“Come on in. I’m just working on things for the orchard.” I step aside.

“Do you want a moment to change? I should’ve called first.”

“Actually yes. Do you know where the office is? Can you meet me in there?” I suggest.

“Yes.” She nods and follows me up the stairs.

I head into my bedroom and change into a nice blouse and a pair of work pants.

I like to feel more put-together than I look.

I toss my hair in a ponytail and meet Lina in the office.

She’s looking over the stuff I have taped to the wall, and I can’t tell if she’s happy or not.

She’s someone who’s often hard to read. She looks like a tattooed Barbie doll, busty and blonde, but she’s one of the most relaxed people I know.

She’s often a little stoned—I learned last night she prefers that to drinking—but she’s not like a typical stoner.

I like picking her brain about things, so I’m curious what she thinks and if she might be able to give me advice on working with Tilly.

I was surprised when Lina and Hattie asked me to join them at the bar last night, because I know it’s something they do with Tilly.

But then, when Tilly was pissed at me, I could tell it was an ambush.

I couldn’t tell if they were tired of our fighting or just trying to force us to get along.

Not that I have a problem with Tilly, but it’s obvious she has one with me.

I hope I win a few points with her for saving her last night.

She looked like she was being tortured by that woman, and after a few minutes of enjoying it—I mean, she was obviously trying to make me jealous—I knew I had to step in.

“B, this is amazing.” Lina smiles.

“Really?”

“You really paired up with the library?”

“Oh, yeah. I had a meeting with the board of directors. I figured they’d be happy because the more cards they open, the more funding they can receive,” I explain.

“Wow. Tilly will love this. Have you told her yet?”

“No. I was actually hoping to get your advice on that. I know she’s not thrilled with anything I do. And last time I brought up the changes, she was less than accepting.” I sigh.

“She’s a tough nut to crack. She and I butted heads when I first got here.

She’s protective and hates change. But I think she’ll be more receptive since she knows you’re doing all you can to keep this place going and not sell it.

” She smiles, and my stomach lurches. My mother’s voice in the back of my head asking me about the sale of this place makes me feel like a fraud.

I still haven’t gained the courage to tell her I can’t sell this place.

“So, these have weed in them. But I also brought some that don’t have any weed in them so you can get the list,” she explains.

I’m a little wary about her selling edibles, but they have all the proper paperwork filled out, and it’s completely legal.

Lina clearly labels everything and checks ID with an actual scanner to prevent fakes from slipping through.

“I’ll take the weed-free ones today. I have a bit more work to get through after this.” I giggle.

“Okay, then we have the apple-cinnamon bun, the pumpkin croissant, and the pumpkin-cheesecake cinnamon bun.” She points at the plate, and I pick the apple one.

Biting against the flaky, icing-covered side, I break a piece off and it melts in my mouth.

Holy shit, this is amazing. I can taste the apple filling, but it’s nice and warm.

Along with the icing, it’s sweet as hell.

I take another bite, and all I want is a nice cup of hot coffee to go with it. It feels like fall in my mouth.

“Fuck, that’s so good. Do you create your own recipes?”

“I do. Sometimes I choose a few I find and just combine them, but these I created,” she says proudly.

“I’m going to need you to put this in the bakery for sure. Let me try the others.” I reach for another pastry and wonder how I can convince her to bring me one daily.