“It’s nice,” Dell admitted. “The light colors might be hard to clean, but?—”
“Nope!” Mae flounced over and booped him on the nose with the pad of a finger. “Nope, I am not going to let you take away from this feeling! The colors help the room feel spacious and light and airy!”
“Yes,” Dell said, stifling a chuckle despite himself. He couldn’t quite remember the last time he’d been booped on the nose. “Light and airy. That is what I meant to say.”
“That’s right it is.” Mae beamed at him before skipping into the office, emerging a minute later with the OJ and champagne. “Plus,” she called over her shoulder as she retreated once more, “I think I had an unexpected soft open today.”
She returned holding two mugs.
“Yeah?” Dell stepped forward to open the juice.
“Yeah. Olive and Cara were here. They gave a thorough inspection.”
Dell gave a soft huff of laughter, pouring juice into one of the mugs. “I bet they did.”
Mae tilted her head, giving Dell a thorough inspection of his own as she twisted the cage off the champagne top.
“Do you not tell people you do woodworking?”
Dell’s brows raised in surprise before he shrugged.
“Why would I?”
“Um,” she said in disbelief, crinkling away the foil. “Because it’s awesome?”
Before Dell could reply, she’d propped the bottle against her hip, releasing the cork with apop. She laughed as the carbonated liquid streamed over her fingers. “Whoopsidaisies.”
Dell also couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard anyone saywhoopsidaisiesout loud.
“How much do you want?” she asked after she’d wiped up the spilled champagne with a nearby towel. She tilted the bottle over Dell’s mug.
“That’s okay.” Dell slid the mug closer to himself. “I don’t need any.”
Mae stared at him. “You don’t want champagne?” And then, shaking her head at herself, “Sorry if you don’t drink. I didn’t know.”
“No, I…” Dell scratched his brow. “I drink sometimes. But it can fuck with my sleep, and my sleep’s already pretty fucked after a trigger, so.” He shrugged. “Always best to play it safe. You should have as much as you want, though.”
Mae stared at him a moment more.
“Good,” she said, finally averting her eyes. “Because I always want champagne.” And she filled her own mug to the brim.
“If you only drink the juice,” she added, “and I only drink the bubbles, it’s kind of like we’re just doing…deconstructed mimosas. Together. Whatever,” she replied to Dell’s snort. “We’re also drinking them after six p.m., but I’m just saying, it counts.”
“Sure.”
“So what else do you make in your woodshop anyway? Other than bookshelves.”
After a moment’s contemplation, Dell retrieved his phone from his back pocket. Opened up to his Etsy and handed it over. Figured it was easier than talking.
Mae brought the screen close to her face as she scrolled.
“Dell,” she said. “This stuff is…beautiful.”
Dell plucked the phone back, even as Mae made a sound of protest.
“Thanks.” He said it sincerely. He worked hard on his shit.
Even if he sighed a second later, understanding that now Cara and Olive—and so, the rest of the town—would likely soon know about his shit. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Greyfin Bay to know he had an Etsy; Tim at the post office certainly already knew. It was just, the less people had to talk to him about, the better. Real estate was clear cut, easy to discuss.
