Zara grinned. “No worries. Anything going on you want to chat about?”
Figuring now was as good a time as any to let her know about Hunnie, I said, “If it’s cool with you, I’m going to help Hunnie out with her honey. I don’t think it will take away from my time or work here because it’s only an internship. At least, that’s what Hunnie is calling it.”
Blowing out a big breath, I felt the stray hair sticking to my cheek flutter across my skin. My hair really needed a deep conditioning. Mentally, I made a note to look into home remedies.
Zara gave me a confused look. “Murphy, no offense, but I know you graduated from college a while ago. You’ve had real-life work experience, so why an internship?”
Shrugging, I said, “It just works for me now. Getting my feet wet again.”
“Look, it’s not my business, but if you want to talk, I’m here. Also, Gigi’s back this week, so you should pop over and meet her. I know you like her cupcakes, but she could be a good friend to you.”
Glancing at the wall clock, I said, “Look at that, time for me to go. So, you’re cool with me working with Hunnie? She’s waiting for me to call.”
I didn’t want to blow Zara off, but I wasn’t in the mood for a heart-to-heart. Learning about my past only made people pity me, and truthfully, I didn’t deserve it. After all, I was the one who’d been blind to how out of it I was. It took me forever to understand Ben actually liked me, and I didn’t want anyone to know how clueless I was.
“It’s cool,” Zara said, waving me off. “Hunnie’s a good one. Love what she’s doing with the infusions.”
I nodded. “Okay, see you tomorrow afternoon.” Walking out from behind the bar, I untied my apron.
“Maybe the doc will be in?” Zara called after me. “And don’t forget to take a coffee with you.”
Ignoring her first question, I kept going but gave Zara a genuine smile. “No need to twist my arm.”
A few minutes later, I walked past a few mismatched high-backed chairs and out the patio door to my car. Funny how chaos like this brought me comfort these days. It was such a dramatic departure from my whitewashed perfect world in New York. Kicking my tire, I called Hunnie.
She answered, saying, “Yo, Murphy, want to come by my place?”
“Um, sure. Want to send me the address?”
Just like that, I was driving along a winding two-lane road, dust kicking up in my wake, holding my breath I would make it to Hunnie’s apiary without my car breaking down. Her family had owned the place for three generations, she’d told me when I went back to see her at the farmers’ market, and she was looking to take it to the next level.
Finally, when I saw a signed marked hunnie’s sweetest honey infusions , I took a left down the driveway. Tall trees lined the gravel road, and again I feared for my poor car. Doing as Hunnie told me, I drove around the main house and parked in front of what she called her she-shed.
Her shed was exactly how I would have pictured it . . . worn-in ivory-painted wood, an adorable small porch complete with a rocking chair, and the windows wide open. I couldn’t see Hunnie living anywhere else.
A tiny wave of melancholy swept over me. Would I ever be so perfectly content?
As I swung open my car door, a reminder of what I’d asked Ben flashed in my mind. Does he have a thing for Hunnie?
Maybe I’m just a “friend” to him like when I friendzoned him back at Pressman. After all, when I sort of begged for him to have me last night, he told me to wait.
“Oh, great. You’re here.”
The door swung open and there stood Hunnie, wearing jean shorts and a red tank, her hair in a messy bun on top of her head, her feet bare.
“If your white shorts didn’t give you away as a newbie back at the market, that car would have. Jesus, you are not prepared for Vermont winters, girl,” she said, pointing at my beater.
“I know. Sadly, this is the best I can do for the moment.”
“Well, we’re going to have to deal with that later.” Hunnie waved me in, her bun bouncing on top of her head.
Not bothering to lock my car, I walked up the one step to her shed and entered what looked like a magical emporium. Glass bottles of all shapes and sizes filled with golden liquids lined the far wall of shelves opposite a log-burning fireplace. The other wall served as a small kitchen, housing a farmer’s sink, a stove, and a fridge. The fourth wall, faced with exposed brick, held picture frames of every shape and size.
“Most of them are my grandma Christine.” Hunnie pointed at the wall and then turned her attention back to me. “So, here’s the thing, Murphy. When I put in the ad, I thought I’d get a student from Burlington University, home for the summer and willing to do my bidding on the cheap. But now I have you, a city slicker wise beyond what I need. To be honest, I can’t pay much, but I’m going to pay you more than I would a student.”
“Believe me, I’d like nothing more than to do this gratis for you, but . . . but you saw my car,” I said, stumbling over my own words, a stranger to this kind of brutal honesty. I ducked my head, letting my hair curtain my burning cheeks.
“I would never let you do this for free,” she said, “but I need this to work. Yeah, my parents have given me a lot of leash with this infusion stuff, and I need it to fly. Also, the petting zoo . . . it’s what all these moms with disposable cash are looking for when they come for these hiking and ski weekends.”
Hunnie plopped onto a purple velour couch and motioned for me to sit in a red velour chair. This place was like Alice in Wonderland’s secret hideout.
“You see, they want an authentic experience,” she said. “Know what I mean?”
I nodded, not fully getting it, but fake it until you make it.
“I don’t want to take advantage of them. That’s not me. But they want to feel like they really did Vermont. And of course, goat yoga will be on the menu.”
I couldn’t help it, but my mind went right to Ben and what he said. He knew she would want that, because he really knew her and she really knew him. It wasn’t like how things were with us.
Standing, I walked toward the wall of photos. My mind spun with a few ideas, something else I couldn’t help. My mind liked to work, and it needed the exercise. After years of Pressman and college, taking the courses my parents told me to, then working as a student advisor after getting a marketing degree, I needed a chance to do something I actually liked.
“I’m not from Vermont,” I said as thoughts pinged in my brain, “but what strikes me about this place is the connections, the roots you all have planted here, more firmly planted than the ancient trees. You’re firmly entrenched in the area . . . in the soil.”
Wandering over to the window, I placed my hand on the glass, taking in the beauty outside—tall bright green trees, lush grass, wide-open fields, and a few dogs roaming about. It was straight out of a picture book.
“Must be pretty in the fall, when the leaves are changing,” I said. “What color do those turn to be?”
Hunnie patiently granted me this change of subject, a complete one-eighty from the internship or her honey, but a necessary diversion for me. “Red, burnt orange, yellow. Those sugar maples line the road all the way to Ben’s family’s place. Most turn to be a deep red. The Rooneys have red for miles in the fall. With all that new equipment Ben helped them buy, they get sap for days. I think the biggest thing is keeping all the lines clean. That’s what can ruin syrup.”
I was stuck on the name Ben. He could be over there now. What would he think of me in comparison to Hunnie? She was making her dreams come true with the support of her family, and I was trying to find mine in spite of my family.
Heading back to the photos, I reached out to trace one of presumably Hunnie and her grandma. “I think we should add hints of red to your profile. Can we change up the color of your logo? I like the yellow, but it’s the obvious choice for honey, and I think we can do something more vibrant like jewel tones. Red, purple, navy . . . like this room. I
t will make the honey stand out. Especially in your pretty jars.”
Up until now, I was talking to the wall, but I turned and caught Hunnie taking notes. Her appearance might be all hippie-dippie, her personality a hundred percent Vermont-friendly, but the woman was a boss.
Turning back to the framed photos, I said, “We need to add your authenticity to the marketing, like you want to add that to the overall flavor of the experience. Something like this blend is dedicated to my grandma, who not only gave me my nickname but my business stickiness. As for the goats, I need time to think on that, but the honey is obvious. You’ve put all of yourself into these blends.”
Hunnie ran up from behind me and threw her arms around me from behind.
“Sorry, sorry. Yeah, we’re supposed to be professional women, but that’s just what I was thinking. I knew I’d like your big-city thinking. Thank you.” She stepped back and really looked at me, as if trying to see deep inside me. “What are you doing making coffee, Murphy Landon? You know what? Don’t tell me. We all have our shit. Just figure out your next step while helping me, okay?”
“Okay.”
Pulling her hair out of the bun, she shook her head left and right, her long brown locks falling loosely.
“That reminds me,” I said, frowning. “I’ve got to get back home and deal with my hair. I need a deep conditioning.”
Hunnie scoffed. “You don’t need a thing. You’re gorgeous.”
“Thanks, but some days . . . never mind. Tell me, should I mock up some social media posts for you?”
“That would be great, and for payment, the going rate is . . .” She leaned close to whisper the rate so only I could hear it.
“No one else is here,” I said with a laugh, “but yes, that’s great. I’m actually really excited about this. If it’s okay with you, I’ll snap a few pics on my phone that we could use on Instagram.”
Hunnie waved me off. “Go right ahead. I actually have to call a guy about the goats. Is it okay if I go do that on the porch?”
“Sure. So, Ben’s family has agreed to the petting zoo?”
“Actually, I don’t know,” Hunnie said, a smile in her tone. “But I’m going to bet on you helping change Ben’s mind about convincing his parents.”
I’d been looking at my phone, but I whipped my head up at that. “Me? I don’t know about that.”
“Oh yeah. There’s never been more of a sure thing than you two. The energy between you is like a roaring fire pit in the fall.”
Waving my hand, I said, “Go make your call.” I’d agreed to her payment terms and was jazzed about the work, but I didn’t need to subscribe to Hunnie’s ridiculous romantic notions.
I took a moment to absorb the vibes of Hunnie’s place and then stepped outside quietly, careful not to interrupt her call.
As I slid into the driver’s seat of my car, Hunnie shouted, “Wednesday is Fourth of July. You have plans?”
Closing my eyes for a second, I huffed at my own stupidity. “You know, I forgot,” I said across the roof of my car.
“Zara’s closed. Did you know that?”
I shook my head, more at myself than anything else. “I’m off, but I didn’t give it much thought.”
Hunnie grinned at me. “I bet you’re used to fancy barbeques and fireworks.”
“More like catered parties on the beach in the Hamptons, and private fireworks displays,” I said, feeling the need to be honest.
“Well, you’re not going to get that here. Maybe a couple of sparklers in someone’s yard, although no one wants to scare the animals.”
Swallowing my pride, I asked, “What do you plan to do?”
Hunnie gave me a huge smile. “I thought you’d never ask. My family usually builds a bonfire right over there.” She pointed her thumb over her shoulder toward a grassy clearing as she spoke. “We make hot dogs and s’mores, and usually drink some moonshine or boxed wine. My brother and his kids always come. His wife skipped town, so it’s mostly for the kids. Nothing fancy.”
I nodded, chuckling softly to myself.
“What’s so funny?” Hunnie asked. The woman didn’t miss a thing.
“I was just thinking that probably no one wears white shorts.”
“Definitely not, but you should come. We usually start around six. Come whenever.”
“I don’t want to intrude.”
“Come. Maybe Ben will see the fire and stop by. His parents usually have something over at their place with Branson and Brenna.”
“Thanks, I’ll stop by. Not because Ben might show up, but because I don’t want to be alone on the Fourth. So, thanks.”
“Great. See you then.”
I jumped into my car before I could say anything else, afraid I might cry.
I’m a long way from home, Toto.
12
Ben
As I drove over to my parents’ place on the Fourth of July, my phone rang. For a second, I wished it was Murphy, but we hadn’t exchanged numbers, and I was taking it slow as promised. It had also slipped my mind that the Bean would be closed today, and I couldn’t sneak in to get a peek at Murphy and maybe get her number.
“Hey, Hunnie,” I grumbled into the Bluetooth. The woman was like a dog with a bone when she wanted something.
“Ben. Sorry to bug you on the Fourth, but . . .”
I rolled the window up all the way so I could hear. “I’m on my way to my parents’. I’ll talk to them about the goats and reindeer and whatever else you want to have out there for the kids to pet.”
“Thanks, but that’s not totally why I was calling. But yeah, I was going to remind you. Ha.”
Typical Hunnie.
“You okay?” I asked. Typically, people called me when they needed to see a doctor. Whether it be an ortho they needed or just a referral, they called. I was the doctor, not the person they called just to chat. Even though I’d lived here most of my life, having an MD after my name made me an outsider.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Nothing like that. We’re doing our usual bonfire with my brother and the kids, and I invited Murphy. I was going to see if you wanted to stop by.”
I sighed. “Hunnie, you aren’t playing matchmaker, are you?”
“Who, me?” she said innocently, and I could practically hear her blushing across the line.
“Yeah, you. I’m doing you a favor by talking with my dad. Leave it alone.”
“Okay, okay,” she grumbled. “But stop by for one of my s’mores. You can’t say no to a little chocolate, marshmallow, and graham cracker with a real honey drizzle.”
“I’ll see how my timing works,” I said, noting the increase in my pulse rate. Of course I wanted to go. “And you know it’s not the honey drizzle drawing me,” I said without thinking.
Her tone knowing, she sang, “Oh, I know.”
“Good-bye, Hunnie,” I said and then disconnected the call.
Rolling the window all the way back down, I let the fresh air wash over my heated body.
I always did July Fourth at my folks’ house, even when I was a teen. Every year, the town had a small parade down the main street in the morning for little kids, but otherwise, there wasn’t much unless you wanted to head toward Burlington. If the Fourth happened to fall on the same day as the farmers’ market, there was live music and more hot food, but this year would be quiet.
I suspected Branson was upset with me because he’d hoped I would take him to Burlington, but this was a busier day for me. The start of a holiday weekend meant a lot of accidents. The next few days would be worse. Between all the biking, hiking, skateboarding, and swimming, coupled with drinking and a few days off, this was usually one of my busiest weeks of the year.
Now I was torn between being a good uncle and spending time with my parents, and leaving early to go see Murphy.
“Ben, tell Mom it’s okay for me to head out to the river and light sparklers with my friends,” Branson said to me after we ate. “We’re not going to drink, and Phil’s dad can drive me
home later.”
My stomach was full and my head preoccupied, so I didn’t bother asking questions. “I think it’s fine, Bren,” I told my sister.
She frowned at me. “Yeah, because you go home to your house and work, and you don’t have to sit up and worry about him.”
“That’s not fair. I worry plenty,” I said, thinking she was also making a point about my lonely existence with no one to care about. Standing, I said, “I’m actually going to head out. I’ll drop him off and make sure it looks kosher.”
“What?” Branson asked me.
“Make sure everyone is behaving. I’ll be discreet,” I said.
As he shoved his hair off his forehead, I thought how I did the same thing. At least Brenna didn’t bother him about getting a haircut. She’d learned that lesson from my mom and me a long time ago.
After dropping off Branson with his friends, I made a quick U-turn and headed toward Hunnie’s place. I parked by the main house and waited a minute before heading toward the bonfire.
“Hey, look who made it,” Hunnie said, announcing my approach before I could clear my throat.
“Hey, Ben.” Her brother, Josh, stood to shake my hand.
He was close to ten years older than Hunnie and me, and I didn’t know him well growing up. Now he lived in town and worked for a trucking company. He married someone who was here hiking the Appalachian Trail and fell for him during a crunchy phase. Two kids later, she decided she wasn’t meant for this life and hightailed it back out west, leaving him with a couple of toddlers. Of course, everyone knew the story.
“Hey, man,” I said, shaking his hand. “Happy Fourth.”
“Holiday takes on a new meaning when you have a couple of kids you want to get home and get to bed,” he said, cocking his head toward the bonfire.
“I’m sure,” I said, but really had no idea. I’d just dropped Branson off with friends so I could see Hunnie.
“Hi.” Murphy looked up at me from the fire, the flames reflecting off her red hair as she stood and walked over.
“Hi,” I said back, really wanting to pull her in for a hug. To Josh, I said, “Where are your folks?”
Friendzoned (The Busy Bean) Page 9