"Oh, come on," I said. "It's alittlefunny."
But she still wasn't laughing. "Not when you hear the rest."
"I'm guessing…you mean what happened today? With the raisin order?"
"Yeah. Ryder asks for raisin bagels – like they're Griff's all-time favorite. But we're out – thank God. So I tell him we don't have any, and guess what he says."
"What?"
"He tells me to slather the bagels with something sticky and dump a bunch of raisins on top." Her tone became desperate. "Do you realize what this means?"
"Uh…not really."
"It means, I'm just as bad as him. Or maybe I'm worse, since I started it with that stupid cranberry stunt – and then accepted a giant tip when I didn't deserve it."
A wave of second-hand guilt washed over me. I'd used that very same tip to help pay the minimum on my credit card. At the time, it had been such a relief. But now, I hated to see Tessa upset.
Desperate to lighten her mood, I said, "Oh come on. Cranberries aren't stupid. They're delicious."
"But not to everyone. You told me yourself that Griff hates them."
Well, there was that.But I didn't want to say it, because I wanted to make her feel better, not worse. "Hey, it's notthatbad. It's not like you sold them poison apples."
She let out a scoff. "Yeah, because we don't sell them."
"And besides," I persisted, "on that first day, they didn't say 'no cranberries.' They just said 'no raisins.'"
"So?"
"So, you didn't give themraisins, did you?"
"No, but that was just a technicality."
I saw what she meant, but she was being way too hard on yourself. "Want to know what I think?"
"What?"
"I think you're overreacting."
Her breath hitched. "I am not."
Something in her eyes made me pause. I had the sudden, gut-deep feeling that this wasn't really about raisins or cranberries. I didn't know what it was, exactly, but it felt bigger than baked goods and more serious than a prank.
I confessed, "I feel like I'm missing something."
Her voice grew quiet. "Yeah. Because I never delivered it."
Huh?And then it hit me. "I didn't mean the pastries."
But she wasn't even listening. She pointed toward the kitchen. "The delivery box is on the table. I figured I'd letyoudecide." She twisted the edge of her sweatshirt. "I mean, I don't want to poison the guy." With a weak smile, she added, "I know how much you like him."
"What? No. Not likethat." I took a big sip from my tiny bottle. "I just mean…he's terrific with the bikes."
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I'm surethat'sit."
"It is," I insisted. "And we're not talking about me. We're talking about you." I searched her face. "Was that the end of it – with Ryder, I mean?"
She looked more unhappy than ever. "I wish."
