The Simplicity of Cider

Eva pushed her sunglasses off her face as Sanna approached the table, her head almost bumping the red and white awning above them. She carried two sundaes in her hands and a tote bag over her plaid-covered arm. Sanna had asked her to meet here, alone. Given how their last meeting had gone and then the one with Anders, Eva had been intrigued to say the least. Perhaps she’d get a chance to show her the new plans and prove to her father she was good enough after all.

“Mint and fudge or butterscotch and fudge?” Sanna nodded to the glass dishes of ice cream in her hands. Eva pointed to the smaller butterscotch sundae—relatively smaller at least. “Good, mint is my favorite,” Sanna said, setting the butterscotch sundae in front of Eva.

Sanna settled into her own chair, taking a big bite, then an even bigger breath. Eva recognized the signs of someone pretending to not be nervous. What could unsettle this woman?

“Thank you for meeting me. I had a few things I wanted to discuss with you.”

“Is it about the plans I shared with Anders? Because we can be flexible to get this deal done.”

“Sadly, no. But if it helps, that is partly why I’m here.” Sanna’s eyes closed as she savored another bite. She pointed at Eva’s sundae. “At least try it. Wilson’s has the best. You can’t say you’ve been to Door County unless you’ve had their ice cream.”

Eva scraped off a bite of whipped cream and ate it. She paused to enjoy the sweetened topping. It had been a long time since she’d had ice cream. She took a bigger spoonful, one that had butterscotch and marshmallow on it. Bliss.

“So, if you aren’t going to take the deal, why are we here?”

“You made new plans that kept the trees. Why?”

“You seemed attached to them, and I thought keeping some of the Looms would make the sale more palatable for you.”

“You listened and compromised,” Sanna said.

“Back to my question—why are we here?”

Eva took another bite of the sundae. Now that she’d started, she couldn’t understand why she’d ever stopped eating ice cream. Everything seemed a little better—even hearing there was no way Sanna would sell the orchard didn’t seem as tragic with ice cream.

“I have a different business proposition, which could use a smart businesswoman like yourself.” Sanna paused. She was finally getting to the point. “As you know, Idun’s is very important to me. One of the many reasons is because I make cider from the heirloom apples, the Looms, we grow.” She pulled a bottle and two plain glasses out of her bag. The label on the bottle was a black-brown. She opened it and poured an inch into both the glasses. “I don’t mean this in a boastful way, but it’s very special cider. This batch is called Fudge, and you’ll find it goes surprisingly well with ice cream.”

Sanna took a sip and ate another bite, so Eva did the same, skeptical that a hard cider would go well with dessert. She sipped the dark amber liquid, which had a lazy effervescence. It was sweet, and the subtle fruit notes enhanced those in the hot fudge and vanilla. There wasn’t any bitterness or dryness to confuse the taste buds. Closer to a port, really, but easier to drink.

“Why do you need me? I know nothing about cider.” Sanna finished her cider and rolled the empty glass between her hands. Eva reached over and took the glass from her hands. “You’re showing me you’re nervous. Don’t.”

Sanna smiled.

“See, that’s why I need you. I can make cider and grow apples forever. I could teach you all about making it and drinking it, but I don’t know anything about selling it. And, as you know better than most, the orchard is in massive debt. For me to keep doing what I love, I need people to buy it. Lots of it. I know it’s good. I know customers would love it. I just don’t know how to connect the two. Already, I have interest from a restaurant to purchase a good amount, but I have no clue how to negotiate a deal like that. You know business. And I need an investor. Someone who can provide enough cash to get us over the growing we need to do and guide me on the business side of things.”

Eva sat up. Now they were talking. Thoughts of water parks and architect drawings disappeared. Work had never been about the money. She had plenty sitting in her trust fund. With it, she could invest in ten different companies like this, without it affecting her life—but it could change the course of business for some small companies. Her mind already had seven, no, eight ideas for research she wanted to do about the industry and how they could market the cider. They’d need a business plan, of course, and she’d need to better understand Sanna’s goals. Her mind whizzed with possibilities and the thrill of creating something from nothing.

At WWW, it was always someone else’s plan, someone else’s process. She was the go-between who had to ask permission to change drawings or suffer the consequences. Never good enough for Dad, never as ruthless as Patrick.

Sanna was offering something better than a deal: autonomy.

“I’m intrigued.” She pulled a napkin from the nearby holder and started writing down percentages and dollar amounts. Sanna countered with her own. While Sanna had claimed ignorance in business, she knew her worth and Eva respected her more for it. They eventually agreed on a forty percent stake each in the company, and to sell the other twenty percent to community investors.

“Trust me, even if it’s a thousand dollars, if a community member has a stake, they’ll work just as hard as a majority holder,” Eva said.

Sanna studied the paper.

“I’ll share this with my dad and brother, but I think we’re close to something.” Sanna stood to leave. “I’ll call you in a day or two to discuss what we need to do next.”

As she walked away, Eva scooped another bite of ice cream and fudge. If this worked, she could stop working for her father. No more Patrick lording his position over her. No more being put on hold before being allowed to talk to her own father. She watched traffic scooching by on the nearby road and the boats bobbing in the marina. A new peace settled over her. Under the table, she kicked off her heels, propped her feet up on a chair, and savored every bite of her sundae.





CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX


Sanna’s nerves skittered and bounced. It had been a week since she signed the deal with Eva that saved Idun’s—but that wasn’t why she tingled more and more as she cleared the dinner plates with Bass’s help. Her dad had moved into his favorite chair and was using a bent coat hanger to scratch his leg under his cast. Isaac had gone to retrieve the lesson Bass needed to work on now that dinner was finished.

“How’s the homeschooling going?” She scraped their dinner scraps into the trash then handed the dishes to Bass to put in the dishwasher.

“Pretty good. Dad says I should be way ahead of my friends when we get back.”

There it was. She knew it was coming, but that didn’t stop it sinking to the bottom of her stomach.

“Do you know when that is?”

“Soon, I think. He can tell you.” Bass pointed his chin at his dad as he returned to the room.

“What can I tell you?” Isaac said.

Sanna tossed the empty cider bottles they had with dinner into the bin to wash and reuse.

Amy E. Reichert's books