Page 35 of Wassailing We Will Go
Hugo returns from the orchards with pink cheeks, fogged-up glasses, and a glowing smile. His orchard tour groups never became massive, but they were a consistent draw throughout the day. If you ever need me to do tours of the orchard again, I’d be happy to! And I assure him that this is definitely something we could do more of in the future.
This was actually really fun, says Bailey, giving me a quick hug on her way out. If you’re ever looking for another last-minute replacement, let me know. It was really nice to see you.
It was, I say and mean it. I had lost touch with Bailey over the years and honestly forgot that she still lived in Belleville, but she was great today and seems like someone I could be real friends with again. Maybe we can go for a drink in a less stressful situation sometime, I offer.
I was kind of hoping your book club might have me, she says sheepishly.
It’s Steph’s, but I’ll put in a good word, I laugh.
Soon, only Harrison and I are left in the bar. He’s finished wrapping up the till and cleaning up the rest of the bar, and when I find him in the tasting bar, he’s admiring a little Christmas tree we have set up in the corner. The fake tree is the most chaotic decoration we have in the place, but it was a tradition started by my aunts: any member of staff who wants to can bring in a little ornament from home and add it to the tree.
Those are from Wendy’s boys, back when they weren’t too cool for arts and crafts, I say, pointing to two glittery paper snowflakes.
That one’s gotta be Charlie’s, says Harrison, pointing to a wooden reindeer. He does a little woodwork, he’s told me.
That one was hand-carved by Charlie’s grandfather, I say. So it’s pretty special. Made more ridiculous by the fact that it’s currently beside the plastic ornament of Baby Yoda from The Mandalorian, brought in by Daniel.
Which one’s yours?
That would be that one, I say, pointing to a stick with googly eyes stuck to it.
That is a stick, he says.
Yep. I think it was meant to be some kind of reindeer at one point, but the nose fell off? Anyway, I gave it to my aunts literally decades ago, and they’ve still kept it. You should bring one in.
I’ve always travelled pretty light, so I don’t have one handy. Also, you’ve set the bar high here, he says, gesturing to the stick.
Very true, but a lot of the shops in Bloomfield have nice ones, if any jump out at you. Can’t do worse than my stick or Daniel’s plastic Walmart one, though, to be fair to Daniel, Pedro Pascal is, in fact, very dear to him.
Rightly so, he says. Have you heard from Dan? How’re he and the rest doing?
They’re nearly back to fighting form. Daniel, Chef, Wendy, and Charlie had all texted me over the course of the evening, all mentioning their significant improvement. Sounds like with enough electrolytes and simple carbs, they’re back on their feet, or should be by tomorrow. I hesitate, as Harrison and I are back to having a nice moment, and I like being here, after this morning. How are Britt and Ryan?
Pretty miserable. Ryan especially, as he had quite a few of those cookies while he was baking, he says. They had enough staff to cover for them, but it’s obviously not the first day of Wassail that they wanted, either.
When he says it like that, I know that I was harsh in my earlier judgment. No, the owners of b&s had clearly not intended to spend today fighting over the bathroom, and I come to the realization that likely, Ryan’s crimes are only using some maybe-off ingredients in his baking, not corporate sabotage.
I am sorry for earlier, I say. I was stressed.
He sighs. Not without reason. Ryan is really, really sorry, for what it’s worth. He doesn’t know what went so wrong with the cookies, but he feels awful that he put anyone through what he went through today. You’ll be glad to hear that they had to close early tonight.
Oh, I would be glad to hear that? I snap. The really messed-up part is that he’s not exactly wrong, but I don’t like that he called me out on it.
You clearly don’t like them, he says, waving his hands in defeat. I can’t understand why. They’re nice, Kate. Horrible bakers, apparently, but nice people otherwise.
They’re competition, Harrison. Plain and simple. It’s not personal. They can be the nicest people ever, but at the end of the day, dollars spent at bitter&sweet are dollars not spent here.
It’s been a long day, he says and grabs his giant coat. Better get home to ‘the competition.’ I’ll see you tomorrow.
I’m left alone in the empty bar, and even I think Boss Kate kind of sucks.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE NEXT DAY, MOST OF the previously ill staff make a triumphant return. Of the department heads, Chef Melissa feels much better but stays home out of an abundance of caution, and Charlie is still recovering, but no one would ever guess that Daniel and Wendy had ever been sick.
Harrison steps up to help at the tasting bar again so that Wendy can focus on getting the gift shop back in order. Gwen and her impromptu team had done well there yesterday, all things considered, but seen through Wendy’s meticulous eyes, the shop might as well have burned to the ground.
Overall, the day goes well and is much more in line with how yesterday should have gone, and I’m able to step back a little more, which is great because I feel like absolute garbage.
