I nodded. “Of course. It’s completely fine. It’s so nice to meet you, Rebecca.”
“Oh please, call me Becca.” She smiled, and I couldn’t help but notice that a flake of croissant was clinging to her lip. She looked at me. “I’m so glad you could stick around for an extra day. I’m a huge fan of Love, Wendy, and when I saw you wearing that adorable T-shirt during your segment, I just knew it was something our customers at Jordan Brooke would really like.”
“Which one was I wearing?”
“It was pink, and it said I KNOW NOTHING, BUT AT LEAST I KNOW THAT. Delightful!”
I laughed. “Ah, yes, I like that one too.” And it’s true. If I learned anything each day of my life, it was that I pretty much knew nothing.
After the waiter took our order, Paige leaned down and pulled out her huge binder. She removed a laminated sales sheet with photos of all my Honey Tees and handed it to Becca, who wiped her hand on her napkin before taking it. The flake of croissant still lingered on her lip.
Becca nodded as she looked over the sales sheets. “I love it. These are great.”
Paige proceeded to pull out sales sheets for the other Honey products, and as Becca looked over them, I stared at the flaky chunk, just dangling there like a child’s loose tooth. It was a good distraction for me, because I honestly wasn’t sure what else I should do. The two of them were engrossed in conversation, chatting in retail jargon that sailed right over my head. Paige may have been running on fumes, and Becca was hardly a model of panache, but both of them clearly knew their stuff. I was impressed.
After defying gravity for several minutes, the remaining croissant finally fell off, and shortly thereafter, the waiter returned with our meals. As Becca cut up her French toast, she looked at me, and then Paige, and then back to me. She didn’t speak but looked like she was about to, so we remained silent.
Finally, she took an enormous bite, so I did the same with my omelet. The moment my mouth was full, she spoke.
“Waverly, to be frank, dare I say you’ve got something special here.”
I swallowed as fast as I could and drank some water. “You think so?”
“I do indeed.” She took another enormous bite of French toast and nodded. A tiny droplet of maple syrup attached itself to her chin.
I glanced at Paige, who nodded quickly and winked.
Then Rebecca “Becca” Clark, respected senior buyer at Jordan Brooke, made clear her intention to place my first official retail order.
A significant order to begin in the new calendar year.
Waverly’s Honey Shop was officially open for business.
• • •
On the way home from the airport later that day, my phone rang. It was Scotty.
“Hi, Scotty, what’s up?”
“Hey, sugar, listen, I need you to tape a segment tomorrow. I just found out they’re having a jam and marmalade street fair on the Upper East Side, and I think it would be good to have our resident Honey expert there. Apparently, several local honey makers have booths.”
“There’s an entire street fair dedicated to jam and marmalade? Are you joking?”
“This is New York, my dear. We have street fairs dedicated to people who have rabbits as pets.”
I laughed. “OK, fine. What time do I need to be there?”
“Can you do eight? Jeff will meet you there with a camera.”
“Eight in the morning? What kind of street fair starts at eight in the morning?”
“Jam and marmalade people are early risers. They make breakfast food, you know.”
I did the math in my head. Getting to the Upper East Side by eight meant I’d have to wake up by six, if not earlier, to shower and get camera-ready.
Ugh.
“OK, I’m in.”
“Beautiful, beautiful. Thanks.”
I hung up, closed my eyes, and leaned back into the seat of the taxi.
Things were definitely moving forward in a good way, but I was exhausted.
• • •
By the time I finally met up with Jake that evening, it was nearly time for me to go to bed again.
“A jam and marmalade street fair? For real?” Jake finished the last bite of his steak. We were at Jack the Horse Tavern, a popular restaurant on Hicks Street not too far from my apartment. I’d wanted to celebrate my first real “account” with a fancy dinner, but I was fighting just to stay awake. And I was already stressed about having to get up again at the crack of dawn.
“For real. I’ve given up asking questions. Now I just go where I’m told.” In the two months since I’d arrived, I’d shot footage for Honey on Your Mind at a tiny dog show, a cupcake bakery, a brewery, and a store that sold items made only out of licorice. Some we never used, but much of it had been well received. Scotty and the production crew clearly knew what they were doing, so I’d quickly learned to just go with it.
“Should I come with you?” Jake asked.
I looked up from my plate. “You want to come with me?”
“Yeah, why not? It’ll be fun to see you in action. Plus you know what they say, a real man can never have enough marmalade in his pantry.”
I laughed. “But what if I choke?”
“You won’t choke.”
“But what if I get all nervous and flustered because I know you’re watching?” I pointed at him. “You know my unfortunate history of getting nervous and flustered around you.”
He smiled and put his hands up. “OK, OK, I won’t go.”
Suddenly, visions of my earlier standoffish behavior toward him, back when we were first getting to know each other, flashed before my eyes. I didn’t want to make that mistake again.
“You know it’s not that I don’t want to spend time with you, right?” I said quickly.
“Of course I do.”
“Because I totally want to spend time with you, I really do.”
He motioned for the check. “It’s OK, really, I know. Don’t worry, I’ll find something else to do. Maybe I’ll play tourist and check out Times Square or the Empire State Building.”
I did the math in my head. If I was gone all morning that would mean I’d cut our “weekend” together down to one dinner at which I’d been half-asleep.
Suck it up, Waverly.
“How about you come, but maybe you could promise to stay…like a hundred blocks away during the taping?” I smiled weakly and awaited his reply.
He laughed and scratched his eyebrow. “Did you just say a hundred blocks away?”
I held up two fingers. “Or how about we agree on two blocks away? Two blocks should provide me with a freak-out-free buffer zone.”
“Make it one and you have a deal.”
I paused for a moment, then reached across the table and shook his hand. “Done.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Miss Bryson.”
“I could say the same thing about you, Mr. McIntyre.”
He held on to my hand and smiled at me, and when I looked into his blue eyes, I stopped thinking about marmalade. I also stopped being tired.
I pulled his hand to one side of the table without letting go. “You ready to get out of here?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
• • •
When my alarm went off at six the next morning, I knew exactly how Paige had felt the day before. Hooking up with a hot guy until the wee hours is awesome…until the sun comes up and it’s time to face real life.
I sat straight up in bed and reached to turn off the alarm, and then put my face in my hands.
Good lord, I’m exhausted.
My face is going to look puffy on camera.
Holy frick, I’m tired.
Jake put his hand on my lower back. “You doing OK?” His voice was soft and warm.
My face was still in my hands. “I’m so tired, Jake,” I whispered. “How do people survive on so little sleep?”
“You’ll get used to it. You’re playing in the big leagues now.”
I
kept my face in my hands. “I don’t think people who need nine hours of sleep last very long in the big leagues.”
I would have gladly ironed everything in my closet to be able to sleep for three more hours, but I knew the show must go on, literally, so I dragged myself out of bed. Jake, who was apparently immune to sleep deprivation, made us coffee and went downstairs to retrieve the paper while I showered. I’d grown to love reading the Sunday New York Times on the couch in my pajamas, but that clearly wasn’t going to happen today.
We were out the door by seven.
Scotty’s street fair idea was a hit with the loyal viewers of Love, Wendy, who flooded us with thanks for giving them a fresh slice of life in New York City. Unfortunately, however, that success meant that suddenly I was working every weekend, when most street fairs take place. Before I knew it, I’d covered the Puerto Rican Day Parade, Oktoberfest, the Great Third Avenue Fair, the Times Square Autumn Carnival, the Brooklyn Flea, and the Union Square Autumn Fair. And that was just on weekends. During the week we’d also continued our man-on-the-street interviews at the hockey rink at Chelsea Piers, the zoo in Central Park, Coney Island, the new World Trade Center site, and Governor’s Island.
It was fun, but with everything going on with both Honey on Your Mind and Waverly’s Honey Shop, I felt like I was living on a conveyor belt. The days flew by, and before I knew it, I’d gone nearly a month without speaking to Andie or McKenna. New-mom McKenna probably didn’t even notice, but Andie had left me at least two voice mails, maybe even three. Between tapings, meetings, managing online product orders, schlepping them to the post office, and dealing with reader e-mails, it was all I could manage to try to speak to Jake each night before collapsing into bed, and sometimes I wasn’t even able to do that. Throw in the three-hour difference between New York and San Francisco, and I could never find the right time, much less the energy, to call anyone back. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d spoken to my own dad.
Finally, one unusually quiet Wednesday night, I sat down on the couch, picked up the phone, and called Andie.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me.”
“I’m sorry, but I think you have the wrong number. I don’t know anyone named me.”
“Andie…”
“Who is this again? I don’t have this number programmed into my phone.”
“C’mon, Andie. Throw me a bone here.”
She laughed. “OK, OK. Bone thrown.”
“I’m sorry, I totally suck. I know I suck.”
“It’s all right. I know you’ve been crazy busy getting rich and famous. Are you having fun?”
I looked at the boxes of Honey products stacked around my living room. “Hmm. Fun? I’m not sure I’d call it that yet. I could call it exciting maybe, but fun would be a stretch because I’m stressed out and exhausted, and you’re not supposed to be stressed out and exhausted if you’re having fun, right? Plus, I think stressed out and fun might be mutually exclusive. Are they mutually exclusive?”
“Good lord, girl. Chill. Deep breaths, deep breaths.”
I laughed and leaned back into the couch. “I’m sorry. I think I’m losing it. You know how much sleep I need, and it’s just not happening right now.”
“How many hours a night are you getting?”
I yawned and scrunched up my face. “Six? Maybe seven on a good day?”
“For real? You can’t survive on six hours.”
“Tell me about it. I think I’m keeping the local coffee shop in business.”
“At least you’re contributing to the economy. Look at it that way.”
“Ha. Soon I’ll be putting their kids through college. So tell me about you. I’m sick of me. What’s new out there? What’s going on with Nick?”
“Nick is good.”
“Are you guys good? Is he still the funniest man I’ve ever met?” Andie was dating my former coworker Nick Prodromou, a quick-witted teddy bear with a huge heart.
“He’s good, we’re good, and yes, he’s still funny. He made Diet Coke come out of my nose the other night.”
“Again?”
“Again. He was doing his Chewbacca voice. It gets me every time.”
“Awesome. I miss that guy.” Andie never exercised but she had told me she was getting a six-pack from laughing so hard all the time.
“He misses you too. He’s always asking when you’re going to come back to visit the little people who knew you way back when. He thinks you’ve forgotten us already.”
“Yeah, like I could ever forget you guys. I can’t believe he makes you laugh so hard that Diet Coke comes out of your nose. Do you know how lucky you are?”
“Tell me about it. I can’t believe I have a boyfriend. It’s so not me. You know what I mean?”
“I totally know what you mean. But having a girlfriend is so not him either, which is what makes you two perfect for each other.”
“I keep thinking I’m going to freak out and run.”
“Please don’t, Andie. He’s great.”
“I know he is. But you know me and commitment.”
“Stop it. You’re not going to freak out and run.”
“He asked me to move in with him.”
I sat up straight. “What?”
“Yep.”
“When?”
“Last week.”
“What did you say?”
“I told him I’d think about it. I mean, agreeing to date exclusively is one kind of commitment, but giving up a rent-controlled apartment is on a whole different level. Am I right?”
I nodded into the phone. “You’re totally right. That’s practically like getting married!”
“I know! I mean, what if it doesn’t work out? What if he starts acting like a vagina and I have to bail?”
I coughed. “What?”
“You heard me. My policy is that there’s only room for one vagina in my house, and it belongs to me.”
I laughed. “You have a policy for that?”
“Yep.”
“You kill me.”
“I’m just being real. You know my job requires client dinners and evening events several times a week, and Nick can be a little whiny about my schedule sometimes. I don’t know if I could deal with that twenty-four/seven. I love him to death, but when he starts acting like a girl, God help me, I want to pop him one.”
I laughed again. “I have no idea how to respond to that.”
“If he gets too clingy and I have to pull the rip cord, where does that leave me? Without a place to live, that’s where.”
“Would he consider moving in to your place?”
“No way. My apartment is too small for two people. If a big guy like Nick moved in here, he’d break something within the hour. Then I’d definitely kill him.”
“So when are you going to decide? This is huge!”
“I’m not sure. I was thinking maybe I’d come visit you for a girls’ weekend to help me think about it. Are you around the weekend before Christmas? It would be sweet to celebrate my birthday in New York.”
I jumped up from the couch and practically shouted into the phone. “Yes! Come to New York! Come to New York!” I didn’t realize until that moment how much I missed her, how much I missed home, how much I missed just hanging out with her and McKenna on a regular basis.
“Down girl. I need to check flights first.”
“I wish you could come earlier, before it gets too cold. Actually, what am I saying? It’s already too cold for my blood.” The only good news about the impending seasonal shift was that the colder the weather got, the fewer outdoor events there were for me to cover. Unfortunately, however, the minute a weekend opened up in my schedule, Paige invariably pounced on it and roped me into some apparel tradeshow or industry event. But as far as I knew at that moment, the weekend before Christmas was still open.
• • •
The next evening I had plans to grab a drink with Paige before heading uptown to meet Kristina for dinner. It w
as purely a social call, which was exactly what I needed. I was so burned out that I thought I might toss my cookies if the word honey even came up in the conversation.
I arrived at Harry’s a few minutes early and ordered a beer, then sat down at a high table. As I looked around the bar, I realized it didn’t feel new to me anymore. The unfamiliarity had faded away, a shift in perception so gradual that I hadn’t even noticed until right now. The place had become a somewhat regular hangout for Paige and me, and she had become much more familiar to me—and much more than a sales rep. I’d met many people since moving to New York, but Paige was becoming a true friend.
At seven sharp, I saw her walk through the door.
With Gary from Nashville by her side.
No way.
I knew she’d seen him once after our trip to Chicago, but she hadn’t mentioned him since then, so I figured that was it.
Apparently, I was wrong.
“Hi, Waverly, how are you?” she gave me a hug as I stood up. “You remember Gary, right?”
I held out my hand and smiled. “Of course, Gary from Nashville. How could I forget that yummy steak dinner in Chicago? How are you?”
He laughed. “I’m doing great, happy to be in town to see this pretty young thing here.” He put his arm around Paige, who was about Andie’s height, which, on a good day, was barely five foot two. “Can I get you a drink?” he said.
I held up my nearly full beer and shook my head. “I’m good, thanks.”
“OK, I’ll be right back.” He walked to the bar, and I immediately turned to Paige and lowered my voice.
“So things are good?” I practically mouthed the words so Gary wouldn’t hear me.
She grinned and nodded.
“Wow,” I whispered.
“I know,” she whispered back. “He’s super cute, isn’t he? What’s he doing with me?”
I shooed her away. “Please, you’re super cute too.”
Gary reappeared with beers for himself and Paige, and we quickly switched to a more appropriate topic of conversation.
“So Waverly, Paige tells me she’s been quite busy running this product line of yours. From what I hear, it’s about to take off.”
I took a sip of my beer and smiled. “I guess we’ll see. I would be lost without Paige. I don’t know how she keeps track of all her clients. I can barely keep track of myself. She’s amazing.”
Honey on Your Mind Page 7
