Page 61 of Monster in the Moonlight

Then I notice the strange shape of one of his teeth. I don’t mean to stare at it, but I’m trying to figure out if his incisor has always been that pointy, or if I just didn’t see it before because his smiles are so rare.

When he realizes where my attention is, he gets a panicked look in his eyes and brings a finger up to his tooth. He immediately starts looking around.

“Is something wrong?” I ask as I watch him dig through the garbage.

“I lost it.”

“Lost what?”

“My cap.”

I spot a little ivory piece on one of the kittens’ backs and point at it. “You mean that?”

Finding it, he quickly cleans it off and sticks it back over his misshapen tooth. He pushes at it a few times, like he’s testing the hold.

“There’s a great dentist in Asheville,” I tell him. “Sometimes he takes emergencies on the weekend. My dad knows him, and he could call him if you want to try to get in—”

“No need. This happens sometimes. The apple… it must’ve made it come loose, but it’s fixed now.”

I don’t know much about dental work. I’m pretty sure if a cap falls off, you can’t just put it back on, but Ellister might be embarrassed by the incident. He won’t look at me, so I decide to drop the subject.

Puttering along, I drive away from my tree.

On our way out of the orchard, a few people flag me down to say hi, but mostly, we’re unbothered by the customers because they’re occupied with their activities.

At the lane entrance leading to the trees, I brake next to a big plexiglass plate with a map behind it. I make sure to point out the different varieties of fruit, go over the topic of regeneration years, and tell Ellister of future planting plans where we’d like to expand.

“Now, your boss might not want to make the orchard bigger, but I’m telling you, there need to be more Honeycrisp trees. There’s a high demand for those apples.”

Ellister listens intently while absentmindedly stroking one of the sleeping kittens. I don’t even know if he realizes he’s doing it, but it’s cute. He went from being terrified to petting them as if he’s always been a cat person.

Next up, we pass by the Christmas trees. There’s another map showing the different types of trees and where to find them.

It’s all pretty self-explanatory, so we quickly move onto the beehives. The white towers sit in rows on one side of the meadow, and the bees are busy as always.

As I park a good distance away, I peer at the shed under the shadow of the trees on the far end of the field.

That’s the spot where Ellister and I kissed last night. My cheeks heat a little at the memory of it. Partly because it was hot. Also because I’m still embarrassed about throwing myself at him.

“Aren’t you worried about getting stung?” Ellister asks, swatting at a bee flying around his head. The jerky motions are jostling the sleeping kittens in his lap, but they don’t stir.

“It happens. But usually, they just want to do their job. They won’t sting unless they’re threatened.”

Immediately, he drops his hand. “I won’t threaten them, then.”

“Are you afraid of bees?”

“Are you saying you aren’t?”

“I’m really not,” I insist. “I think of them as my friends.”

“The stinging insects I’m used to are the opposite of friendly, and they have terrible venom. One sting can paralyze someone for hours.”

“Paralyze?” I repeat with disbelief. “Where are you from again? I’ve never heard of that.”

Evading my question in the smooth way Ellister does, he asks, “Do you have honey samples, too?”

“As a matter of fact…” I drive over to a post that has a hollowed-out compartment and open the little door. “We do. And I owe you a sample from our bet, right?”

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