Page 56 of Skating and Fake Dating
As Bailey climbs branches, tossing down apples for me to catch, Tiny circles below, barking happily. I feel more alive than I have in months.
“I found the prize apple!” she exclaims from a branch several feet above. She tells me her Pappa always challenged her to find the best apple in the orchard whenever they’d visit.
“You were right about the pancakes, so I trust you with this.” I hold out my hands to catch both the apple and her if necessary.
She nods, carefully making her way down. “Starting when I was nine, my grandfather taught me everything there is about this property and how to make it work for me, but I didn’t quite land on my feet.”
But she does now. Back on the ground, I don’t step away, standing close enough that I can smell the faint scent of vanilla maple that follows her everywhere.
I can’t help but think of her other hobby because the way she looks at me makes me wonder if we’re moving toward more than picking apples. The autumn air wraps around us and the wind rustles through the leaves overhead.
She takes a bite of the apple, her eyes closed. “Tastes likehome.” Then she passes it to me and I try the most delicious and juicy piece of fruit I’ve ever eaten.
“Wow.” But the word comes out in a whisper because Bailey has captured my attention as a smile plays on her lips and her eyes dance with what I can only define as freedom and peace. Pancakes, apples, syrup, whatever she’s having, I want it too.
As we walk back, hands full of apples, Bailey gestures over her shoulder to the grove of maple trees. “That’s where it all starts. In late winter, we tap the trees. The sap runs when the nights are below freezing but the days warm up.”
We reach a rustic barn constructed of rough timber and a rusty corrugated metal roof.
She says, “And this is The Sugar Shack.”
Inside, a collection of traditional and modern equipment fills the dusty space.
“What am I looking at?”
“Where the magic happens. We get a really hot fire going in this box and then put the sap in this evaporator pan. Keeping it at a rolling boil, the syrup then flows over here.” She points to some measuring instruments and gauges and tells me about temperature and consistency, along with an apron, which I don’t think is the same as the one she wears while baking.
“Sounds pretty scientific.”
Bailey wears a proud little smile. Hooking her finger around an empty jug, she says, “Fun fact: it requires about forty gallons of sap to produce one of these.”
“Seriously? All that work for one jug of syrup?”
“That’s the price you pay for liquid gold.”
“No wonder you smuggled it into the diner.”
The Sugar Shack, deserted for the season, seems like an oddly lonely place until she laughs. I imagine this space heard plenty of that back when she’d sugar with her grandparents.
“This is a pretty amazing family business. Does everyone chip in to help during the tapping and sugaring season?”
“Not really. Some of them used to, but as I was saying, almosteveryone has moved on or is busy. I was the only one left.” With a wobble in her voice, she adds, “This will be my first winter not tapping the trees. Nanna and I did it last year, but she can’t do it alone now.”
I assume this is because her job with the NHL takes her away from Maple Falls.
However, as Bailey continues the brief tour around the farm, her passion is infectious, and I find myself genuinely interested in the maple syrup process and the way her eyes light up when she talks about it. I’ll have to ask Asher about his family’s operation in Canada.
At sundown, we head into the farmhouse where smoke curls from the chimney. Tiny follows us inside. Her nails click on the hardwood floor and her tail swishes from side to side expectantly.
“Yes, Mommy is going to make you dinner. You’re a very good girl. So patient.”
“So Tiny is your dog? Why does she live here?”
“And very large, if you didn’t notice. I can’t exactly bring her along when I travel for work.”
“You must miss her.”
“Every day. She keeps Nanna company, though.” She eyes the other two lazy dogs. “As if she didn’t already have a full house.”
