The Simplicity of Cider

“Great, right on time.” She pulled out a stack of papers and handed one to each person. “These are your schedules. I’ve mapped out everything I need you to do and how much time you have to accomplish it.”


Yesterday had been her first full day in charge, and they hadn’t gotten nearly enough work done. Due to her dad’s accident, they were behind on everything. Yesterday, they needed to thin the eating apples, spray the late-harvest apples, and mow the orchard, but they only finished half the mowing and a third of the thinning, and didn’t get to the spraying. Never mind she had two batches of cider that needed bottling. From now on, she’d be more on top of everyone’s job list to make sure everything was accomplished.

“Mine just says ‘Whatever,’?” Anders said, holding up his paper.

“I don’t know what you do, so you can keep doing that.” Anders crumpled the paper, then picked up his stack of papers. “I’ll be in my room if you need me, Pa.”

“When do we pee?” Bass asked.

“When you need to,” Isaac said, rubbing his hair. “But seriously, I don’t see lunch on here. I’m okay with eating as I work, but Bass needs breaks.”

Sanna looked at her master list.

“Damn it.”

She collected all their schedules and laid them out on the counter. Isaac stood behind her shoulder and pointed.

“Here. If I take Einars to his PT, he and I can eat something in the car. Then you and Bass can have a lunch. Would that work?”

Sanna nodded, not trusting herself to be pleasant. She should have seen that error. She needed everything to go perfectly today. If she hadn’t let her dad climb that ladder, then this never would have happened. If she hadn’t kissed Isaac, she wouldn’t find herself so distracted when he was around. It was the main reason she had assigned him jobs on the opposite side of the orchard. She couldn’t let any more mistakes happen. She had to prove it to Anders. She had to prove it to herself.

She scribbled the changes on the schedules and handed them back to everyone.

“Okay, I’ll get Isaac started and meet Bass in the barn.”

Sanna led Isaac to the orchard, where the ATV sat next to the sprayer.

“You’re going to be giving the late-harvest apples their last spray.”

She pointed to the sprayer, but Isaac already started to hook it up without waiting for her instructions.

“How do you, an office worker guy, know how to work a sprayer?”

“First, I’m an independent contractor in the tech industry, so it’s a bit more involved than office worker guy. Second—my grandparents had a small farm south of San Jose when I was growing up. They had a sprayer just like this and they taught me to use it. As a sixteen-year-old, it was still fun to drive a tractor around. I’m not completely clueless.”

“I didn’t say that.” The words were as clipped as all her nerves.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re doing great.”

He rubbed her arm from elbow to shoulder, and Sanna instantly calmed. How did he do that? She breathed deeply, focusing on the smell of summer grass and sun-warmed apples.

“I’m not. But I will.”

“That’s why I know you’re doing great. I’ve led enough teams of people. Half the battle is wanting to do it well.” Sanna checked her watch. She needed to meet up with Bass, then check on her dad or she’d already be behind. “Though you might want to rethink the strict schedule. Micromanagement never ends well.”

Sanna nodded, her mind already three steps ahead.

“I’ll take that under advisement.”

? ? ? ? ?

Isaac’s fingers flew over the keys on his laptop as if it hadn’t been almost five weeks since he’d coded.

“You really know what you’re doing on that thing?” Einars said. He sat next to him with his leg propped on the adjacent chair.

That made two Lunds who doubted his ability today—like father, like daughter. After he’d finished spraying the trees, Isaac had joined Einars in the house. They sat at the kitchen table while Sanna and Bass worked in the orchard. He’d been copying the bits of usable information off their old site into a file. Their entire website made him itchy and it needed to be fixed. He could have a bare-bones site up in half an hour, and something more robust by the end of the night. It would take him a few more weeks to get everything set up the way he wanted. Once that was done, he would create Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter accounts.

“This is what I do. Big companies pay me a lot of money to make over their online presence. Customers use the Internet to find everything, so having a well-crafted website should bring more people here. That’s the goal of a website, to get people to either buy something or go somewhere, hopefully do both. Once they’re here, then they’ll buy apples or cider. Then those happy customers can mention you on their social media accounts, sending more people to your website. It all works together.”

He was already thinking of favors he could call in for graphic design work. He’d started scribbling lists of what information he’d need for the website—like apple varieties, harvest dates, cider flavors. As he took notes, Einars got up from the table.

“Hey, what are you doing? I’m supposed to keep you off your feet.”

“I need to take my meds and then make the dessert for tonight.”

“I can do that. You sit and make a list of all the apples you grow and when they are available for purchase. Where are your meds?”

He shoved the paper and pen at Einars, who huffed, but sat back down as Isaac moved into the kitchen.

“They’re by the sink.”

Isaac found the bottle and his stomach dropped. Fentanyl.

“You’re leaving these out on the counter where anyone could grab them?” Where Bass could grab them? Or Sanna after a stressed-out day? It was like seeing a cobra in a baby’s crib—unpredictable and deadly.

“Of course. It’s right next to the water, so I can get my pills and water in the same place.”

“You can’t keep them out in the open like this. I’ll keep track of it for you. You let me know when you need it, and I’ll give you the right dose.”

Isaac’s breathing grew shallow and fast. Einars crossed his arms and studied him. Isaac knew he wasn’t making sense and he didn’t know how to explain without telling him about Bass’s mom.

“There something you want to tell me about?”

Isaac’s hands shook as he opened the bottle and took out one pill. He gave it to Einars with a cup of water, the bottle still clutched in his hand. The older man took the pill and water, then set his fingers on the bottle, but Isaac didn’t let it go. Letting it go would be the same as putting that cobra in the crib—he’d be responsible if Einars took too many. If he kept them, he’d be in control and no one could get hurt.

Amy E. Reichert's books