Honey on Your Mind

by Maria Murnane

  “Will he be upset?”

  I nodded. “Maybe. Probably. But I was just too tired to deal.” I tried to smile. “I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed right now, in case you couldn’t tell.”

  “That’s not surprising. You’ve been burning the candle at both ends for months now.”

  “I know, I know, but despite my complaining, I thought I could handle it. Now I’m not so sure. I mean, my body basically gave out on me last night. That’s sort of scary, Jake.”

  “You just need to set some boundaries. You’re clearly being pulled in too many directions.”

  I looked at him. “But how do I set boundaries? I mean, I’ve only been at Love, Wendy for a few months, and Waverly’s Honey Shop is just getting off the ground. I feel like I can’t say no to either, so what am I supposed to do?”

  “Can you ask for help?”

  “Help how?”

  He scratched his eyebrow. “Help with Waverly’s Honey Shop, for example. It seems like you’re spending so much time on it, but aren’t there things you could have someone else do for you?”

  I nodded. “I was thinking about that just yesterday, actually. In fact, I planned to talk to you about that last night. I totally forgot.” I pressed my hand against my forehead. “I think I’m really losing it.”

  He laughed. “You’re not losing it. You just have too much on your plate right now. You’ll sort it out.”

  I looked down at the nearly empty dish in front of me. “Speaking of plates, would you stop loving me if I ordered another of this yummy pasta? I’m still starving.”

  “I might love you even more.”

  I smiled and gestured toward our waiter.

  • • •

  I called my dad on the cab ride home from the airport the next afternoon.

  “Hello?” My dad apparently still hadn’t figured out caller ID.

  “Hi, Dad, it’s me. How are you?”

  “Well, hello there, Waverly. It’s great to hear your voice all the way from the Big Apple.” I smiled into the phone and wondered if the Big Apple was as grating to New Yorkers as Frisco and San Fran were to me. I made a mental note to do a segment about that for the show.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call you back yesterday. I’m sorry I haven’t called you in a while, actually.”

  “Oh, don’t apologize, baby. I know you’re quite busy these days. Betty is just over the moon to see you on TV all the time. Did you know that Love, Wendy is now her favorite show?”

  I closed my eyes and thanked the universe for bringing my dad Betty, his girlfriend of nearly a year. As far as I knew, she was the only woman he had dated since my mom died when I was just a toddler. It sounded so cliché, but since he’d met Betty, he was like a new person, someone I’d gone my whole childhood not knowing. Now his newfound happiness was on display for me and the world to see, and I was so grateful not to feel like I was the only person in his life who truly cared about him. That’s a lot of weight for an only child to carry.

  “I didn’t know that, Dad. Please tell her I said hi. How is she?”

  “Actually, she’s why I called you.”

  My heart dropped. Oh my God. She broke up with him. She’s hurt. She’s dying.

  “What’s wrong?” I took a huge breath and held it.

  “Oh, nothing’s wrong, baby. In fact…it’s the opposite. We’re getting married.”

  I exhaled and smiled…a huge smile. “You’re getting married?” A few tears swelled in the corner of my eyes.

  “Yes, can you believe it? I asked her, and she said yes. I really can’t believe it.” I sensed something in his voice I’d never heard before.

  It was pure…joy.

  “That’s wonderful, Dad. I’m so happy for you!”

  “I’m just thrilled, baby. I’m still amazed she said yes.”

  “Come on, you know she loves you.”

  He chuckled. “I know, I know. I’m just so incredibly lucky to have met her. I never thought I’d find someone who would love me as much as your mother did.”

  As soon as he said that, I started crying. They were small tears, but it was hard to speak normally, so I didn’t reply. What is wrong with me?

  “Are you OK, baby?” He sounded nervous. I don’t think I’d ever cried in front of my dad.

  “I’m fine, Dad. I’m just happy for you, that’s all.”

  “It took awhile, but I found her, Waverly. Your old man found her.”

  I wiped a few tears from my eyes and looked at the cab driver, who smiled at me in the rearview mirror. I smiled back at him. “So when’s the wedding?”

  “We’re thinking Valentine’s Day. Will that work for you?”

  Valentine’s Day? I swallowed a laugh. Ah, Dad. “Can you give me a day to check that I don’t have to work?” I hated myself for having to say that. Who has to check to see if she can attend her own father’s wedding?

  “Of course, of course. I know that TV show isn’t going to stop for me, so you do what you have to do. Were you planning to come home for Christmas?”

  “Christmas is sort of the same deal. I’m sorry, Dad. I just need to check with the producer before making any decisions around holidays. As I’m rapidly learning, that’s sort of the way it goes with TV.” After the year I’d spent freelancing for the San Francisco Sun, not being in charge of my own schedule was starting to get to me. I thought I would probably have Christmas free but knew for a fact I was going to have to work on New Year’s Eve, given how New Year’s resolutions are on practically everyone’s mind that day.

  “It’s fine, baby, really. I understand. You just let me know, OK?”

  “I will, I promise. Congratulations, Dad. I’m so happy for both of you.”

  I looked at the cab driver again and wondered what he was thinking of me now.

  Before I knew it, December had arrived, and the holiday party was just days away. After my minor breakdown in Cleveland, I tried to put the brakes on a bit, but it wasn’t easy. To my relief, Paige agreed to manage all sales and operations for Waverly’s Honey Shop, officially beginning in January. She would work without a salary in exchange for a significant commission. Knowing she’d soon be on board full-time reduced my stress—no more trade shows on weekends or regular trips to the post office!—but any time that was freed up in my schedule was quickly swallowed up by the growing popularity of Love, Wendy, which meant more work for all of us.

  “So does everyone have a date?” Scotty looked around the room. “I know several eligible bachelors and bachelorettes if anyone wants to get set up.”

  I looked up from my notebook. “You know people who are willing to be set up for a complete stranger’s company holiday party? Who does that?”

  “Waverly, have you ever been to the penthouse of the New York Athletic Club?” Scotty asked.

  “The penthouse? No.” I’d met Kristina there once for coffee before I moved to New York, but had never gotten past the lobby.

  “Well, believe me, it’s worth pimping yourself out for the night for the view alone.”

  Wendy patted her hair and nodded. “I know I rarely agree with Scott’s taste, but he’s right. The view of Central Park is absolutely incredible.” Since her sudden softening in the kitchen several weeks ago, she had settled into a haphazard routine of teetering between “sort of mean” on some days and “sort of nice” on others, never quite fully tipping one way or the other. I’d come to the conclusion that she wasn’t a complete bitch and had given up taking her jabs personally. Plus, by now I was comfortable with the crew and the routine of producing my segment, so she didn’t scare me as much.

  “Sounds gorgeous,” I said, excited at the prospect of having Jake on my arm. Jake looked great in a suit. Actually, he looked good in anything. Or nothing.

  Wendy lowered her voice and leaned toward me. “I can give you the names of a few people if you want some help.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Help?”

  She looked me up and down and smiled. “Hair, makeup, you
know what I mean. We both know your appearance isn’t your strong point, right?”

  I sighed and fake smiled back at her, and then turned my head back toward Scotty at the front of the room.

  Blech.

  “So, Waverly, do you have anything to share with us today?” Scotty asked.

  I looked up at him. “Excuse me?”

  “E-mails. Got any good ones lately?”

  As the ratings for Love, Wendy grew, so did the collective fan mail. People often wrote me to say they enjoyed Honey on Your Mind, but they also loved sharing what was on their minds. And some shared a bit too much. Reading the wackiest e-mails aloud to the staff had become a highlight of our weekly meetings.

  I smiled. “Actually, I do have some good ones. Want to hear?”

  Everyone in the room nodded.

  I pulled out a sheet of paper from my notebook. “OK, here goes:

  “Hi, Waverly, being alone forever is what’s on my mind. I’ve been single for a while now, so last night I decided to try the online dating thing. Get this: shortly after I posted my profile, I got messages from three men. One of them was holding a cat in his photo. A cat. Another was sitting on a donkey. I’m not joking, a donkey. The third guy looked normal. His message, however, said he’d love to meet me but asked if I’d be willing to strip on a webcam first. There’s really not much more I can say.”

  “Dear Waverly: You know what’s on my mind? Idiots who misuse basic words. I have a coworker who every single Monday sends around an e-mail raving about the movies she watched over the weekend on her paper view. P-A-P-E-R V-I-E-W. Yes, you read that right. Or is it you R-E-D that W-R-I-T-E…?”

  Laughter from the room.

  “Waverly, why do people insist on sharing every boring and/or gruesome detail of their lives in their mass holiday letters? Your daughter had a baby? Wonderful! Your son graduated from college? Good for him! But do I want to hear about Aunt Louise’s gastric bypass surgery? Not so much. And is it really necessary to explain how you waffled for months between getting a Kindle or a Nook? Definitely not. And do I really care about your bacterial infection?”

  More laughter.

  “Hi, Waverly, you know what I’ve been thinking about lately? Massages. Why do people pay for them? I mean, why give money to a complete stranger to rub his hands all over me for an hour when I can put on a slutty outfit, walk into any bar in America and have ten guys volunteer to do it for free? I’m just sayin’…”

  More laughter.

  “What up, Waverly, this is all I have to say: Tiny nylon running shorts + any man who isn’t in the Olympics = GROSS. Bye.”

  More laughter.

  I looked around the room and held up the sheet. “And the last one on my list just came in this morning. Perfect timing, given that we’re talking about escorts for the holiday party:

  “Dear Waverly: I have a good dating story for you. This guy from my volleyball league recently asked me to brunch, so I figured why not? He’s cute and seemed nice enough. We’re both in our late twenties and work in downtown Philadelphia. So anyhow, we’re at the restaurant about to order, and he looks around the place, then leans across the table to me and says with a proud grin, ‘My friends and I used to run out on the bill here all the time.’ Uh, what?”

  Everyone cracked up, even Wendy.

  I took a seated bow.

  • • •

  The day before the holiday party, Paige and I met for an afternoon catch-up meeting at Connecticut Muffin on picturesque Montague Street, the “Main Street” of Brooklyn Heights. Jake was flying in a few hours later.

  “So you’re off to Vermont next weekend?”

  She nodded. “I haven’t gone away for the weekend with a guy in six years.”

  “Six years? Really?”

  She held up six fingers. “Six years. I plan to spend the entire weekend naked.”

  I laughed. “So you’re meeting him there?”

  She nodded. “Late Friday night. His son has a basketball game that afternoon, so he can’t get here in time to drive up with me, which would have been so nice. But it will be great anyway.”

  “How old are they?”

  “The kids?”

  I nodded.

  “Seventeen, nineteen, and twenty. Two girls and a boy.”

  “Wow, three kids. That doesn’t freak you out at all?”

  “A little, but like I said, it’s worth it. So hey, are you ready?”

  “Ready for what?” I picked at my sticky bun.

  She spread her hands on the table. “We need an office.”

  I looked up at her. “An office?”

  “Yes. Once those big accounts kick in, it’s time for us to up the ante.”

  “But wouldn’t that be crazy expensive?” So far, we’d managed to run Waverly’s Honey Shop out of our apartments, plus a variety of bars and coffee shops. I’d lost track of how many sticky buns I’d eaten at the Connecticut Muffin.

  She shook her head. “I found a great space in Dumbo that would be perfect for us, and it’s available at the beginning of January.” Dumbo, an acronym for “Down under the Manhattan Bridge overpass,” was a trendy neighborhood within walking distance of my apartment and just one subway stop from Paige’s place in lower Manhattan.

  I didn’t respond immediately, and Paige followed up with, “It’s right across the street from a super cute coffee house/bakery place, and next door to a chocolate shop.”

  My ears perked up. “Chocolate shop?”

  She laughed. “I knew that would get your attention.”

  I smiled. “OK, I’m listening…”

  “We also need employees.”

  “We need employees?”

  She nodded. “Nothing major, but we definitely need a couple of minions to manage the orders and deal with production and inventory so that I can focus on running the accounts, not to mention opening new ones, and so you can focus on client relations and promotion, not to mention expanding the product line.”

  My head was spinning. “OK…”

  “We also need an accountant.”

  “An accountant?”

  “Yes, just part-time for basic bookkeeping, but yes.”

  “You think we’re ready for all that?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “Yes, and eventually we’re going to have to hire a marketing manager too.”

  “Can I afford all that?” I’d already incurred a ton of expenses flying us around the country to meet with potential buyers, not to mention the cost of manufacturing and new product designs, and the small revenue stream from the online orders hardly covered what I was putting out. I’d been able to pay for everything so far from my TV salary, but if the whole Honey operation blew up in my face, I’d soon be dipping into my nest egg, which was really more of an egglet and wouldn’t go very far if I had to pay a whole staff New York salaries.

  She nodded. “I’ve run some numbers, and with the large orders we have lined up for January, we can lower our manufacturing costs through production volume discounts, and switch to a distribution center that handles bigger clients. That will bring our cost of goods sold way down, streamline shipping, and more than cover the cost of our additional overhead. We’ll also be able to accommodate future growth without disrupting our existing accounts.”

  I blinked. “That was a lot of business-school speak you just rattled off. I don’t speak that language.”

  She smiled and tapped a finger against her temple. “Trust me.”

  A vision of me in bankruptcy court flashed before my eyes. Boxes of T-shirts and tote bags in my apartment and a sales rep who worked entirely on commission was one thing. An office and hourly employees was another. Was I getting in over my head? I began to shred my napkin into little bits.

  Sensing my anxiety, Paige reached across the table and gently squeezed my arm. “It’s taking off, Waverly. You should be excited. This is exciting.”

  “It is? I should? It is?”

  She nodded and smiled. “Yes. It’s really happ
ening.”

  I looked down at the remainder of my sticky bun sitting among the napkin pieces. “Then why do I feel sort of sick?”

  “You mean aside from the fact that you just ate an enormous ball of sugar?”

  I nodded. “Good point. But seriously, Paige, just last year Waverly’s Honey Shop existed only in my imagination, and now I’m going to have an office? And employees? I can’t believe it.”

  “Why not? You came up with a fantastic idea, and you’ve worked extremely hard to turn it into a real product. That’s a lot easier said than done.”

  I didn’t reply.

  “You should be proud of yourself, Waverly. I am.”

  I stared at the table. She’s right, Waverly. You should be proud of yourself.

  I still didn’t reply.

  “Waverly?”

  Finally, I looked up at her, still in a daze. “Thanks, Paige. I…I’m so grateful for all your help. None of this would have happened without you.”

  She smiled. “It’s been a pleasure. So you want to walk over and check out the space?” She gestured toward the exit.

  I tossed the remaining chunk of sticky bun into my mouth and nodded. “Let’s do it.”

  • • •

  “Want me to call a cab? Or should we take the subway?” I yelled from my bedroom. It was nearly seven the following evening, and I was digging through my jewelry box to find a necklace to wear with my new dress. Why didn’t I think about accessories before?

  “Your call, I’m easy,” Jake called from the living room, where he was watching the Hawks game on TV. He’d been granted a quick hall pass to take me to the NBC holiday party and was flying to meet the team in Salt Lake City the next day.

  I pulled out a small diamond pendant and clasped it behind my neck. “You do realize that when you say ‘I’m easy’ on the way out to a party, it makes you sound like a paid escort,” I said at a normal decibel as I walked into the living room.

  “Does it? Then I guess we’ll have to figure out a payment plan after the party.” He looked up at me and smiled. “Wow, you look gorgeous.”