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The pale sunlight of an early fall morning filtered through the car window. In an hour or so, the maple trees would blaze yellow and orange when the sun finally broke over the ridge, but for now, they shone muted maroon and golden in the half-light. The car’s heater was going full-blast, but David still snuggled into his hand-spun angora sweater as he turned to study Patrick’s profile beside him. The sight of the man-- his husband --next to him never failed to send a thrill through his body, even this early in the morning, when he was still at least one cup of coffee short of fully functioning. More than one, actually. Trivia night at the shop had run late the night before and they were both tired, but it had taken Patrick weeks to set up a private tour and tasting for them at Kingsbrook CiderWorks. if the day went well, they’d have a new vendor for the shop before noon. He’d definitely need some more coffee first, though.
“You awake over there?” Patrick’s voice broke into his thoughts.
“Mmm..almost.”
“You can put your head back and sleep if you want.”
“I should be driving, actually. You’re the one who insisted on doing paperwork after we got home. What time did you finally come to bed? It was cold without you.” He stifled a yawn, pulling his lips into a playful pout.
Patrick thought about this. “Three...I think, but because I stayed up to do that paperwork, I can tell you that not only was trivia night the most successful event we’ve ever had, we’re going to make record profits this month.”
“Then I should definitely be driving and you should be the one sleeping. Four hours’ sleep or less? How are you ever going to stay awake for our tour, let alone to negotiate with the people at Kingsbrook?”
“David, David, David. I have an MBA. Do you think I got that without learning how to pull an all-nighter?”
He had a point. “Still, let me get you some more coffee.” David reached for the thermos at his feet and pulled the lid off the travel mug, the dark, rich scent of the brew filling the car as he did so.
“Thanks. You gonna go to sleep?”
“No, I’m too excited. And besides, we’re almost there.” He pointed to a sign out the window: Kingsbrook CiderWorks Orchard and Mill, exit two miles.
As they exited the highway, the landscape turned to rolling hills dotted with trees and lined with split-rail fences. Just ahead, up on a hill, a rustic barn painted red bore a sign welcoming them to Kingsbrook CiderWorks. Patrick turned into the parking lot, downing the coffee David had poured as they climbed out of the car and started up the winding path toward the barn. A large black dog bounded up to greet them, followed closely by a woman in jeans and a denim shirt. She greeted them warmly and offered a firm handshake. “David and Patrick from Rose Apothecary?”
David offered her a dazzling smile in return. “David Rose, and my partner, Patrick Brewer. You must be Charlotte Kensington. We spoke on the phone.”
She nodded. “Call me Charlie, though. And this--” she gestured at the dog, who was covering Patrick’s face with kisses, “--is Huck, our farm dog.”
Patrick scratched behind Huck’s ears as he responded. “Pleased to meet you, Charlie.”
“Thanks for coming so early, gentlemen. It’s our busiest season, and I wanted to make sure you got the full experience. I thought we’d start with a tour so you can see the orchard and the cider in process, then I’ll take you into the tasting room for brunch and if you like what you see, maybe we can work something out.”
David and Patrick traded a look. They both already liked what they saw, and as Charlie led them up the path and onto a golf cart for a drive through the orchards, they fell more and more in love. Charlie was the fourth generation of her family to run Kingsbrook, and from her tone of voice, it was clear she loved what she did. The sun had risen, the sky was a perfect blue, the air crisp as she drove them past acres and acres of what seemed like every variety of apple known to man. In the distance, they could see a series of tents that Charlie said provided “the ultimate glamping experience.” At the mill, they witnessed apples being washed, pressed, and the juice stored in shiny stainless-steel kegs, then poured into jugs. Inside the barn, the smell of fresh cider and cinnamon hung in the air as they sampled freshly-baked cinnamon donuts, homemade pie, and warm apple butter on crackers. Through it all, David made a mental list of the products that Rose Apothecary would surely founder without.
“Don’t fill up too much, gentlemen,” Charlie cautioned. “I saved the best for last: This season, we’re piloting some new hard ciders and wines in the tap room. Your private tasting awaits.”
They took bar stools in the tap room, and Charlie ducked into another room to bring drinks.
“This place is incredible,” David said when Charlie was out of earshot.
“It is exactly our brand,” Patrick agreed. “Family-owned and a woman in charge, plus a cute dog. Everything Rose Apothecary needs.”
“I’m already picturing the partnership. Cider and donuts for the shop. I want to do a gift basket with that apple butter, a loaf of Ivan’s bread, a bag of single-origin coffee…” He trailed off. “You better be ready to negotiate, because if we don’t get this contract…”
“Oh, I’m gonna get the contract,” Patrick assured him. “And don’t worry. For our anniversary, we are so going glamping in those tents.”
“Patrick, I do not glamp.”
Patrick reached over and chucked his shoulder lightly. “You couldn’t be persuaded?”
Charlie returned then with a tray laden with plates and glasses. She set a flight of glasses in front of each of them, along with appetizer plates, and a platter of snacks in the middle. Despite the three donuts he’d sampled in the barn, David could practically see Patrick’s mouth watering at the sight.
The cider flights weren’t just great, they were transcendent, and made even more delicious by the appetizer pairings. Honeycrisp apple paired with a bite-sized sandwich of apples mixed with brie and grilled in fresh butter. Apple-cherry paired with an almond and goat cheese canape; apple-pear with a bacon and gorgonzola tart. As they ate and sipped, Charlle told them more about her family’s history with the land and how she had come to be the first woman to run the business. Clearly, Kingsbrook CiderWorks and Rose Apothecary were a match made in artisan heaven. And with Patrick’s master negotiation skills, the rest was simple. In less than an hour, Charlie signed the contract, and they promised to return in two weeks for a pickup of apple butter and cases of cider. Then the three of them sat at the bar, enjoying more appetizers and glasses of cider and wine.
As David and Patrick rose to leave, they shook Charlie’s hand once more. “Thanks for meeting me, gentlemen,” she said. “It’s only my second season running the mill. There are...other growers...who think a woman doesn’t belong in the business. I want to make a go of it, but I can’t do it on my own.”
“Well, Charlie Kensington, we think you’re going to do just fine.” Patrick grinned at her. “Rose Apothecary is proud to partner with you. We’ll see you in two weeks for that pickup, and if there’s anything we can do for you in the meantime, don’t hesitate to ask.” Then they parted ways, Charlie disappearing through the door that led back into the kitchen.
They took their time in the bright afternoon, enjoying a walk in the sunshine of the orchard. They’d purchased a small bag in the barn, and as they walked, they filled it with a few different varieties of apples to try at home. Even though they were both too stuffed for more food, they bought a dozen donuts to take home, the bag piping hot and scented with baked cinnamon. They stayed until the sun began to set, then went back to the car, laden with their purchases. Patrick tucked the leather folder with the contract into the pocket in the back of his seat before fastening his seatbelt and turning the key.
“I love these trips,” David said as they turned toward home.
“Me too. And I think Charlie Kensington is really going places,” Patrick agreed. “I can’t wait to see what she does with her business. And I like the idea of Rose Apothecary becoming like Kingsbrook--imagine, four generations carrying on what we started. What you started.”
David smiled softly at the idea. “In the meantime, we’re scheduled for that pickup in two weeks. I think we should make it a date--I want more of those grilled cheese bites.”
Patrick grinned over at him. “Already planning on it. Are you sure we can’t make it an overnight getaway and go glamping?”
David pretended to shudder, then laughed out loud. “Not a chance,” he replied. “Not a chance.”