New Amsterdam: Tess by Ashley Pullo Page B

offers, “Try the peach-infused honey, Heather. No added sugar and the taste is phenomenal. I also have sugar-free strawberry jam you could spread on a low-fat rice cake.”
    “No, please don’t bother – I’ll rely on Mindy’s impeccable taste. Does the honey come from your family’s farm? I’m so fascinated with the subject.”
    “It does! I receive raw, harvested honey shipments every few months and then I package it in my shop.” Thessaly opens a photo album on her tablet and shows the ladies previous examples of custom products. “Mindy will direct me as to what you’ll want during your reception – from there, we can create almost any flavor and personalized packaging specifically for your wedding.”
    In a hoity voice reserved for the Manhattan elite, Mindy reveals, “Heather’s fiancé owns a lovely property on Shelter Island. Since family and friends from all over the country will be attending, they’re graciously hosting a destination weekend wedding. Every detail is important, as I’m sure you understand.”
    Heather opens an album on her iPad and scrolls through the pictures of the white and blue beachfront estate. “Dennis and I want our guests to enjoy a weekend getaway while attending our wedding. The rehearsal dinner will be outside featuring a feast of an autumn harvest. We’ve planned a pancake breakfast the following morning, lunch in town, boating activities, a trip to the winery, and then on Saturday night, a reception that will impress Julia Pierce. Nothing over the top or pretentious though – Dennis and I want the wedding to mimic an upscale bed and breakfast.”
    “Oh, Heather, it looks amazing – will Julia Pierce be there? I love her columns,” Thessaly adds, glancing in her periphery as a burly delivery man enters her shop.
    “She’s doing a two-page spread!” Heather beams.
    Rising from the island, Thessaly asks, “Two pages? Can you excuse me for a moment?”
    “Of course, dear. I’ll just be sampling this strawberry jam.”
    Joining Meg as she tries to answer the silly questions of a young couple, Thessaly nudges her hip. It never ceases to amaze her that honey and jam can bring so much debate.
    “Hi, you will love the light and fragrant taste of the lavender honey. I’ll have Meg bring you some tea,” Thessaly offers.
    “What’s up?” asks Meg when the couple leaves.
    “Can you bring the wedding chicks some water with lemon? There’s a delivery guy here unloading crates, but I didn’t order anything.”
    Meg glances at the door and shrugs her shoulders. Plodding to the kitchen, she mumbles, “Water and tea.”
    Walking to the front of the store, she watches as a large, hairy man wipes sweat from his brow. “Can I help you?” Thessaly asks with a polite smile.
    “Tess Sinclair? I got your order of white peaches – one bushel.”
    “I think there’s a mistake! I would never order that many peaches.”
    “I only deliver, lady – and I don’t get paid if I don’t deliver. You wouldn’t do that to me, would ya?” Sweat runs down his cheeks like dejected tears while he continues to unload his dolly.
    “But, I, where did they come from?”
    The delivery man stacks the crates of peaches in the front corner of the shop, moaning as he stretches from his rolling cart to the short tower of wooden crates. “Brooklyn Soil.” He pulls out a crinkled slip of paper from the pocket of his plaid shirt and drops it into the top crate. Wiping sweat from his upper lip, he smiles quickly and then scurries out the door before Thessaly can stop him.
    “I didn’t order peaches,” she mutters to herself. Lifting the folded invoice from the top crate, Thessaly reads silently. If you have a dispute with your order, please call Levi Jones.
    Fighting a smile, Thessaly walks toward the kitchen. “I’ll be right with you, ladies,” she says as she passes Mindy and Heather.
    Returning a plastic smile, Mindy replies, “Take your time, dear.”
    As Thessaly enters the