Page 98 of Salty Pickle

“She is so small!” Maggie presses her hands to the glass. “She seemed bigger when she was running at me. Does she butt things with her head?”

“Only Court when he deserves it.”

The woman’s laugh is hearty and deep. “I like you, Lucy.”

“I like you too. And don’t worry about the balcony. That’s my job to keep clean.”

“Good. The goat scares me. But maybe we’ll become friends.” She heads back to her cart. “I hear all the baby goodies will arrive today.”

“Yes, around eleven. Have them load it all into the green bedroom.”

“Oh yes, that’s perfect for the baby. So cozy.” She pushes her cart to the kitchen. “I will unload and get out of your way.” She spots all the cookies. “That’s a lot! You take my cart when you go.”

“Court is sending someone to fetch these. But thank you!”

“He thinks of everything.”

I’ve barely packed the last box when there’s another knock. That must be the courier.

I open the door to a young man with a handcart. “I’m here to take boxes to Pickle Media.”

“Yes, in here.”

I fuss over the cardboard boxes lined with parchment paper, making sure they’re secure. I can’t have them fall and all the cookies break.

I’m so excited. I’ve never done anything like this, and I feel like this could be the start of some genuine friendships in Court’s office, not the least of which will be for him.

“Am I riding with you or going separately?” I ask the young man.

“You can come with me.”

“Oh, good.” I shove my phone in the pocket of my dress. “See you later, Maggie!”

The ride is short, and soon, the cookies and I are both safely delivered to the large conference room down the hall from Court’s office. The big table has been pushed to the back wall, and the seats line the walls.

Dawn from merchandizing is there with a giant box. “Hey, Lucy! Devin, where should I put these?”

“Line them up by the plates,” he says. “Cookies on the other end. I left you some trays.”

Dawn and I both start unloading.

“What do you have?” I ask her.

“Court ordered these. Thought the motto could use an adjustment.”

“From Dill with It?” I still have my water bottles.

“Look at them.” She passes me a large cup with a built-in straw. It reads, “You can’t DILL with my awesome.”

“That’s so terrible, it’s good,” I say.

“I know, right!” She lines the cups up along the wall. “Everyone gets one today.”

“How fun.” I tug a pair of plastic serving gloves from a box on the table and unload cookies onto plates.

I’m in the zone, arranging them by flavor, when I feel arms come around me. “I want to eat this right now,” Court whispers in my ear.

I lift a snickerdoodle. “I can stuff it in your mouth.”

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