Page 48 of Prayers for the Prickly

“I get why the kitchen and around the campfire was always considered the hearth, and thus the heart of the home,” I admitted.

“That’s exactly what I want ours to be.”

“So, what happens next?” he asked as he stood and began clearing our plates off the table. “With the chocolate shop and the health inspector?”

He passed me another strawberry-apple cider, too, then proceeded to start washing up the dishes we’d used and loading them in the dishwasher.

I loved that I didn’t have to move. After being on my feet all day, the last thing I wanted to do after I’d gotten comfortable was force any of the muscles I’d relaxed into complying with some unnecessary command.

He transferred the leftovers into takeout containers we could carry with us to work tomorrow, then crumpled up the big foil containers and stuffed them in the garbage before taking it out of the can because it was full.

“They’ll come back and do another walk through tomorrow,” I explained. “And if he signs off, Everett will start making chocolates. In the meantime, Ever has already gotten in touch with our family attorney and given him the woman’s name who came in with the ants and everything we’ve learned about her so far. We’ve filled him in on what’s been going on with Olly’s mom and the threats she made, and we sent pictures of the candies at the shop, before we packaged them up and rushed them over to his office. He’s got experts who will look into it further. In the meantime, we’re trying to establish a connection, if there is one, between Olly’s mom and the lady with the ants, so we can try to sort out what she’s gaining out of making such a claim. I mean, that shit is pretty elaborate. Three ants. The most I’d expect someone to bother with is two. After that, it’s like they were making chocolate-covered rice cereal bars out of them, and that’s just gross.”

“Eww,” Olly remarked, his nose scrunching as he stuck his tongue out.

“Exactly.”

“What’s her name?” Gregor asked. “The lady with the chocolate-covered ants?”

“Brenda Zebrowski.”

“Ohh, my mom knows her,” Olly blurted. “If there’s anyone who owes more money to people than Mom it’s Brenda Zebrowski. It’s enough to make me wonder if Mom has anything on her.”

“Your best bet is to stay out of it,” Gregor cautioned. “Don’t go trying to meet up with her to dig for information, either, you know how easy it is for her to sink her hooks into you. She’ll mention something not working right and not having enough money to have it fixed properly and in the next breath cajole you into trying to fix it, which always winds up taking days.”

I was beginning to think that the woman might have been going around the place when Olly wasn’t there, breaking things or stopping them up so he’d have to sort out what was wrong with them. Gregor had warned me that Olly didn’t handle conversations about his mother too well so I refrained from saying anything. Gregor was still doing a good job of holding him accountable and making him see reason, so I reached for one more clam as Gregor went to remove them from the table and grinned when my mate held open the spicy tartar sauce container for me to dip it in before he relocated both containers to the refrigerator.

At least I had my cider to wash it down with.

“The lady who canceled the order she’d placed admitted she was doing so after hearing about the ants,” I said. “So if we wind up proving that Dana was responsible for the ruse with the ants, we can hold them both accountable for lost revenue and prove that what she did damaged Ever’s reputation. Our attorney has me keeping track of the number of visitors to the candy shop, to see if we experience any sort of significant decline. I just hope the inspection goes well tomorrow so Ever can get back to making chocolate. Being in his kitchen is his happy place, the same is mine.”

“Then I hope they get him back in there quickly, too,” Gregor remarked. “Would suck to be cut off from my workshop, I feel for him.”

“I just hope she doesn’t have something else in the works to heap onto what’s already happened,” I declared as I sat up and rubbed my eyes.

It came as a surprise that I hadn’t dropped my bottle with the way I’d been leaning over in the chair with my arm dangling down as I’d been holding it. At least it wouldn’t have fallen far enough to shatter, but it would have been considered alcohol abuse.

“Are you through with that?” Gregor asked, holding out his hand for the half-finished bottle.

I eyed it up and down before deciding that I didn’t have the energy to finish it and passed it over. I watched him chug it, wavy hair tumbling over his forehead as he did. He put it and his other empty in the recycling container and started wiping off the table while I tried to remember how many steps there were between me and the bed.

“Ever’s talking about putting cameras in the kitchen to live stream and demonstrate the production process, but I think it’s a needless expense unless he plans to zoom in over every batch of nougat he makes just to document that there are no unintentional lumps in it.”

“Yeah, he’d be better off saving his money for the ingredients he’ll need to purchase so he can replace the stock that was lost,” Gregor said.

“There’s also the loss of man-hours, too, and the overtime he’ll have to put in so he can catch up faster. Something tells me he’s going to be pushing himself for a while, and fretting like crazy,” I declared, pointedly looking at Oliver when I said it. “He won’t be willing to rest until that case is full and the people are coming in steadily the way they’d been doing. He might need someone to help ensure that he takes breaks, eats, stays hydrated, and has someone to rant to when he’s finally ready to vent. I think that’s going to be the biggest thing, honestly. Just being a sounding board so he can get shit off his shoulders when he’s ready to deal with it.”

“I’ll be there,” Olly promised. “I’ll text him first thing in the morning and see if he wants to have breakfast with me before he heads to his shop, even if we just eat at the little picnic table in the alley. It’s quiet back there.”

“Then you’d better make sure you set your alarm early,” I said. “Or better still, text him right now and set a time to meet up, that way you know exactly how much time you’ll need to get ready and can set your alarm accordingly.”

“Good plan,” he said.

“I have them from time to time.”

“Now that we’re family, I hope you’ll keep sharing them when you do.”

Now that he’d expressed an openness to receive the random chunks of advice I liked to dole out, I’d make sure he was made a permanent part of theCandy Pearls of Wisdomthread when I sent out random shit each week. Brotherly duties completed, I rose from the table, hugged my mate, and left him and Olly to whatever they had left to discuss.

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