Page 28 of Heartland
“But they need to figure out their pricing, first,” Griff argues. “That’s hard because there’s so many choices. Should you do eight to a box? Or sixteen? Or a whole pound? I don’t know where the price point should be.”
“You need market research,” May adds, setting the whiteboard on the sideboard.
“What if…” Audrey breaks off, deep in thought. “If it were my project, I’d take a few caramels down to Bud at the Country Store in Weston. He likes to talk about product development, and he has a thriving mail-order business.”
“Would he be there on a Sunday?” Dylan asks. “We could go tomorrow.”
My heart gives a happy kick.
“I’ll email him,” Audrey offers. “Let’s see.”
“That’s a good plan,” Griffin says. “You can’t make caramels next Friday, anyway. We have the bonfire. And the cemetery service.”
“Oh,” Dylan says. And then he looks at his hands.
I’d forgotten about this, too. Every year the Shipleys gather to remember August Shipley’s passing. This will be the sixth time. They visit the cemetery and then hold a bonfire in his memory.
“Dylan,” Ruth says gently. “Please bring your fiddle home on Friday. I want to hear you play ‘St. Anne’s Reel.’”
He says nothing, his expression shuttered. All he does is lean over to pluck a piece of bacon off May’s plate, then shove it in his mouth.
That’s when Zach walks into the dining room. “Morning, guys!”
We all look up, and various greetings are called out. Everyone loves Zach. He’s always in a good mood and always ready to work. This is the man I thought I killed by kissing him in the back of a car five years ago. But here he is, healthy as an ox, married to a smart, wonderful woman who loves him.
I’m so happy for him. But I’ll always feel a little twinge of guilt when I see his face.
“Need breakfast?” Ruth asks him.
“Thanks, but I’m good. Who’s taking the first shift with the horse wagon? Should I go down the road and get the team from Isaac?”
“Would you?” I say, rising from the table. “Then I’ll drive first shift.” Tourists love to be escorted around the property on a wagon pulled by Isaac’s two workhorses.
“No problem!” he says cheerfully. “It will only cost you one of those caramels everyone is raving about.”
“I’ll cut some more of them this afternoon and bring you some.”
“Dibs on the rest!” Grandpa shouts. “Age before beauty.”
Then everyone starts talking at once. Except for Dylan, who picks up his coffee mug and gives me a smile.
And I feel meltier than a batch of caramel at two hundred forty-eight degrees.
Ten
Dylan
At the Country Store,I don’t know why I expected to do any of the talking. Although I think of Chastity as shy, she frequently surprises me.
Like now, for instance.
“What if we did a small box and a larger box?” she asks as Bud tastes another caramel. “And maybe each candy should be smaller than these.”
“Yes to all that,” he agrees. “They’re pretty decadent, so you could go down to a square shape. Like so.” He holds up his fingers.
“Or thinner?” Chastity counters. “They’d be easier to cut neatly.”
“Sure. And if you put eight of them in a small box and then twenty-four in the large…” He sighs. “They’re irresistible, young lady.” I’m pretty sure he means both Chastity and the caramels. “This is a great product for the holidays. Your label should have red on it somewhere. It’s a subtle hint, but people respond.”
