Page 64 of Apple of My Eye
–Lemon
–Apple
–Mango
–Lime
–Pomegranate
–Plum
It’s been a week and even though I can’t remember it, I still haven’t recovered from the most embarrassing day of my life. I showed up at the Parkers’ to pick upBring It On? Out of all the movies, I couldn’t have requested something cooler likeTheShawshank Redemption? I’ve been trying not to cave to the magnetic pull that is this disaster, but I can’t help it. I reread the texts at least once a day, cringing so hard I think I’m giving myself a wrinkle. I really up and went to the Parker’sthreetimes.
I take a bite of a pear Mom picked this morning.
‘So good, right?’ Mom asks.
I narrow my eyes at her. ‘I still haven’t forgiven you, you know.’
‘What!’ She throws up her hands. ‘For letting you walk to the Parkers’? A walk you’ve done a thousand times?’ She walks over to me and wraps me in a hug. ‘I love you, sweetheart.’
I groan, but I wrap my arms tightly around hers. As U-Pick approaches, so does a fork in the road for our future. I still have no idea if our loan will be approved. I have no idea what my parents will want to do. I have no idea if we’ll keep the farm.
Ironically, my favorite part about the lead-up to U-Pick has nothing to do with apples and everything to do with pears. At the very south-west corner of our farm there are two rows of Asian pear trees, Mom’s pride and joy. Every year in early September they ripen with the most beautiful green fruit, dappled with freckles and spots of blush. Each bite is fleshy and powerful in flavor. Mom bakes pear tarts and pear bread and slow cooks pears with ginger, and she doesn’t tell anyone, she’s never even told me, but I know she puts pears in her famous applesauce. It’s what makes it unbeatable. She can’t always win the apple pie contest, but she’s pretty consistent about keeping her applesauce crown.
I’ve helped her out this year, she claims, because all I could eat for the past week was applesauce. After I fully recovered we settled into a rhythm, a better one than we had at the start of summer. I didn’t realize how much Nick had thrown off my mornings, which I now get to spend waking up slowly and alone with my own thoughts as U-Pick days loom on the horizon. Even though U-Pick is where we make a bulk of our revenue, the pickers only cover about a quarter of the orchard, focusing on specific varietals that we grow and prune especially for that purpose—Honeycrisp, Gala, Granny Smith.
We’ve never done U-Pick big like some of the other growers do, instead we pride ourselves on our small and intimate setting, we make sure there’s always one of us in the area to answer questions and we make everyone feel at home. But this year, things have to change. I came out of my drug-induced haze with renewed energy about the Parker situation. Nick can social media his way to the top all he wants, but he can’t stop me from doing the exact same thing. If he wants to drive all these sales to the Parkers’, fine by me, I’ll direct them to our farm instead. City Council responded about my request for a permit to hold weddings, so I’ve started calculating possible profits in case the loan falls through. I’ve had large signs made that advertise Anderson Apple Orchards as the only non-insecticide farm in the nearby areaandthe only one with photo backdrops perfect for family photos in any weather.
DID YOU GET DRESSED UP TO TAKE PICTURES AT OUR APPLE ORCHARD?Reads one sign, THEN YOU’LLLOVEOUR UPDATED BARN!FEATURING FOUR DIFFERENT BACKDROPS AND ADJUSTABLE LIGHTING, YOU CAN MAKE SURE YOUR HOLIDAY-CARD PHOTOS ARE EXACTLY WHAT YOU WERE DREAMING OF.
Mom does her part too, preparing for the bake stand at U-Pick by baking apple pies, cookies, cakes, and muffins, anything that she can freeze after partially baking it. The outdoor freezer is so full, I’ve had to drive pastries to Lily’s parents’ place to store them.
‘Eloise?’ Mom asks, taking a slice of pear off my plate. ‘Are you doing OK?’
‘Me? Yeah. My mouth is almost completely back to normal.’
She sighs. ‘That’s not exactly what I was referring to.’
‘Oh. Yeah, I mean, I’m fine I guess .?.?.’
‘I’m just checking in. You seem .?.?. different than you were at the start of the summer .?.?. not as happy. And before you reply, I don’t think it has anything to do with the surgery.’
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. ‘Hmm,’ I mutter in response.
‘I hate to say it,’ she says.
‘Then maybe don’t say it,’ I mumble.
‘I think it was Nick.’
We both stare out the kitchen window. Ever since the surgery debacle, I haven’t talked to him at all except when I texted him to apologize. Business is business, something I feel like I should have known all along.
Shari: GUYYYYSSSSS
Evan: Just when I was beginning to wonder if you were dead.
Shari: SORRY I WAS TOO BUSY LITERALLY RECREATING THE LIZZIE MCGUIRE MOVIE.
