Page 232 of Spicy Ever After
I beam at him. “Great! This’ll be sort of fun—for a school assignment.”
And it is.
We’re still at it when Beck comes in for lunch a couple of hours later, building out my slide presentation with old photos of the farm throughout the years. Pop has even found a bill of sale for their first harvester back in 1951.
When Beck takes in my slides where I’ve mocked up plans for the subscription service, he stares at me.
Not unlike the way his father did earlier this morning.
“A subscription service… Hattie. My God. You’re a genius,” Beck says, his voice all low and rough with awe.
We talk through lunch—turkey sandwiches and the Olivier’s own persimmons—and then Beck calls Javier to have him take over the alfalfa harvesting for the rest of the day.
Then we really dive in.
Beck estimates we can offer three flavors a quarter. We spitball lists. Caramel, Pecan, and Satsuma for fall. Espresso, Cinnamon, and Cayenne for winter. Mulberry, Lavender, and Lemon for spring. Honey, Basil, and—even though I argue against it—Cucumber for summer.
Sure, I don’t drink vodka. I don’t drink. Period. But cucumber as a drink flavor? Really? Sure, I love a fresh cucumber, tomato, and avocado summer salad. But the one time someone at Spa Mizan gave me cucumber water, I embarrassed Mom, Margaret, and Grandma Eloise when I spat it into a trash can.
Combining that flavor with alcohol is a cry for help, if you ask me.
But I was outvoted. Soundly, when we FaceTimed Griffin and Kennedy to get their thoughts on the whole enterprise.
They loved all of it. Including cucumber-flavored vodka.
But one victory I managed to score on the call was convincing all four men—including Pop—to agree to be in footage we’ll post on social media and YouTube.
Because Beck—as I’ve mentioned—is Farmer Hotness. And even though I think he’s empirically more attractive than his twin, they are, well, identical.
Allegedly.
And Beck, Griffin, and Kennedy together?
May I just say, we are going to sell some vodka.
Add Pop to the mix with the clear family resemblance and the bonds these men share? And we have a story to tie to our brand. Especially when we include old family photos in our promo footage.
I snap pictures during the FaceTime call and drop those into my slide presentation along with the ones of Beck’s grandparents, great-grand-parents, and wedding pictures of his mom and dad.
God, she was pretty.
And I can tell in the pictures of her and Pop together, they had what everyone wants. In most of the candids, they are looking at each other, not the camera.
“You need pictures of the two of you in your presentation,” Griffin says, across the video call.
I make a face. “I’m not putting a picture with me in it in my presentation.”
“Why not?” Beck, who’s sitting right beside me at the kitchen table, asks. “This whole thing is your idea. Your brilliant idea.”
I turn to him. “Anyone with a little business knowle?—”
Click.
The unmistakable iPhone photo-shutter sound interrupts me.
I whip my head back to the screen of my laptop to see Grif and Kennedy grinning at us. In another instant, they’ve thrown the image up for everyone to see.
My breath catches.
