Page 22 of The Grump

“You know what? I want to see this,” she said with an impish smile. She had a dimple at one corner of her mouth. We were definitely off to a good start.

After we finished our food, we moved back to the kitchen. Somehow the place seemed even worse now than when I first saw it. I was starting to register the details: the number of boxes, the stack of packaging for each praline, the trays set around theroom to cool off the candies. But then I noticed something on her stove.

“What’s that?”

“Mulled wine. Honestly, not my best pot. I only put in a smidge of actual wine. It’s mostly just cranberry juice. Want to try it?”

I wrinkled my nose. “No, thanks. You didn’t exactly sell me on it.”

“That’s okay. I had two cups and don’t need more, but I’ll keep it simmering because I like the smell.”

“It does make everything more festive.” I clapped my hands together.

“All right, put me to work. What am I starting with?”

“Packaging. That’s the only thing I can truly trust you with. Let’s do a box together. It’s not rocket science, but it’s better if you see the way I do it.”

“Sure.” I liked her attention to detail. She approached things the way I would.

We both sat down at the wooden table side by side, and the impulse to touch her grew even stronger.

She pulled an empty box in front of us and said, “This is one of my favorites. I love our Christmas editions.”

“It looks exquisite,” I remarked. Someone receiving these treats would feel special and well thought of, unlike giving a gift of candies from the local drugstore.

“I chose the red velvet,” she said, caressing the cover with her thumb. “It feels like you’re holding a Santa Claus costume, you know?”

I actually didn’t know, and in my mind, it all seemed a bit far-fetched to me. But she was speaking with so much enthusiasm that I absolutely didn’t plan to ruin it.

That was probably the reason why I was the brother in charge of the numbers. I was the first to admit that my people skills were nothing to brag about.

“All right, so each praline goes into this plastic cover, and then we wrap it with the red ribbon.”

I couldn’t believe it. Even the ribbons had to be hand-tied.For fuck’s sake.

“I always make a double knot,” she continued.

I laughed. “Want to make people work for it?”

“Sort of. I think if you do, it tastes even better, keeps it fresh longer. And you don’t run the risk of eating the whole box at once.”

Thatwasgood thinking. But also, it was very expensive for an employee to be wrapping these one by one when a machine could do hundreds in no time at all.

Of course, that would be if we werekeepingthe confectionery, which we weren’t.

“Now you do it,” she said.

I tried to follow her steps, but my ribbon looked decisively shittier than hers. “That looks amateurish. But with enough practice—”

“You’re going to make half the pralines look bad,” she finished for me.

“Something like that.” I didn’t like feeling inept or out of my league, but this was clearly not my strong suit.

“Why don’t you put all the pralines in their individual bags, and I’ll do the ribbons?”

“No, let’s do this. Tying the bows is the most time-consuming. Let’s practice a few more times. I’ll get the hang of it. I’m a quick learner, I promise.” I was not going to give up.

She looked at me dubiously, and I wanted to kiss that snarky smile off her mouth. I was used to people doing exactly what I wanted, when I wanted, without question. But having this sassywoman challenge me was a breath of fresh air that I didn’t seem to mind. And coming from Bailey, it was exactly what I needed.

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