2022-07-10 - This Little Piggy Went to Market

Fledgling business ideas need trial runs, and that's been something Una Irving has been working on this week: hers is just a small stall off towards one side in the farmer's market section, but there are half a dozen kinds of cookies and other baked treats on offer, and she's been doing a decent trade: so far so good.

She positively beams as a harried-looking young mother hies away with a box of two dozen cookies and a business card, resting her forearms upon the table. She's wearing another of her usual summer sundresses, this one polka-dotted, and largely seems to be enjoying herself (though don't think for a moment she won't be delighted when young Jennifer from down the street comes to replace her for an hour or two; there are so many stalls she herself wants to get a look at!).

“Hey hey, look at you! How’s it going?”

Jules strolls up to Una’s booth, beaming as she beholds her housemate. She’s dressed for the occasion in a pair of cut-off shorts and a tank top, with a light sweatshirt half-zippered to ward off the morning chill. Living on this coast requires layers. “So professional,” she teases. “I don’t suppose you’re doing free samples?”

"I don't know, do you need a sample to help you to decide whether my cookies are worth buying?" Una teases by way of return, which may count as a 'no' or at least a 'not yet'. She straightens, grinning across at Jules. "So far so good. I've given away some business cards, sold a few individual and bulk lots, and-- I think it's a good start. I'm pretty sure I don't want to make this a core of my business model, though; I'd forgotten how much hard work retail is."

This is probably a lie: she's spent years working retail. Still.

"See anything good?"

“I mean—“ Jules begins to reply, a dangling hook of banter. She shortly breaks off to attend to what Una’s actually saying, grinning across the spread laid out in her stall. “That’s awesome. And it’s still early! I bet you sell out by the afternoon.”

She tips her head to indicate the market as it continues down the way. “My family’s down there with a couple coolers full of salmon. Haven’t really looked yet—I was just on my way down to see how they’re doing. Thought I’d pick up some of your cinnamon rolls to share with them.”

Professional to the end, Una sticks her tongue out. "I hope so," is more earnest.

She picks up her phone to check the time and then adds, "Jennifer's due in ten minutes, so if you can wait until then, I can come with you? I'd love to say hi." She may hate to leave her pretty little stall, her little business, to anyone else, but-- one woman cannot sensibly manage on her own all day.

“Sure!” In the meantime, Jules gets her wallet out of the canvas tote bag she’s carrying; all jokes of free samples aside, she very much intends not to sponge off Una’s generosity and goodwill. “Can I have four? Alex is here. No, make that five,” she decides. “I’ll save one for Mikaere, assuming Alex doesn’t eat them all like a monster. And I know your cinnamon rolls are gonna go fast, so better buy it now. You haven’t met my brother, have you?”

Una looks, just for a moment, as if she'd like to reject Jules' money-- but she doesn't. She straightens her shoulders, lets the corners of her mouth twist upwards, and nods. This is a business, after all. "Five, okay," she confirms, picking up her tongs and a cardboard box so that she can start scooping the requisite rolls out of their display container. She names her price, too, only mildly awkward for it.

"No-- I haven't. He wasn't there the day we went up. It'll be good to meet him!"

Jules turns over the cash without complaint, laying it down on the counter. Una can be awkward about it, but Jules won’t be—this is a business, indeed.

“He’s a good kid.” Kid is relative; Jules’ brother is only a few years younger than Jules and Una both. “Hoping my grandparents will leave him to manage it at some point so they can actually wander around and have some fun. I’d offer, but I have to work later. Figured I’d take them breakfast then poke around until I have to change.”

The last of the cinnamon rolls gets scooped into the box, and Una carefully closes it, sliding it back across the counter towards Jules; she grins, scooping up the money in exchange, and carefully putting it away into her cash box.

"I hope they do too. It's nice not to have to work the whole time," murmurs Una. "And it's just... buzzing around here, you know? I like that. The energy of it. One moment-- hello!"

She has another customer, a woman who immediately asks about the cinnamon rolls.

Jules, about to reply, instead steps to the side to let Una focus on her customer. She smiles to herself, watching Una work, and gets out her phone. She holds it up as if she’s texting, but no: this is a subtle photo-op, one she promptly forwards to their other housemate with an accompanying text:

look at this!!

Una's customer departs with a box of cinnamon rolls and a handful of cookies a few minutes later, and Una beams. With all her attention on her sale, it's likely enough she's not picked up what Jules is doing-- certainly, there's no guile in the grin she turns back once she's free to do so. "There is something very satisfying about accepting money for my work," she admits, with a little laugh. "Like... it's paying off? I mean, literally, I guess. But... I don't know. It feels good. Jennifer will be here any minute, I promise."

Text (and photo) sent, Jules ticks her phone away again into her back pocket. “No rush,” she assures Una. “It’s cool to see you doing your thing. I bet it does feel good. Regardless of whether you make it into a business or not, you’ve put a ton of time and effort into your baking.”

She doesn’t pick up her box yet, but she does twitch it closer to her on the counter, out of the way of other customers. “So what’ve you been up to this week while I’ve been gone?”
Jules asks. “Full of prep for this?”

"Mm," agrees Una, with a hint of pink about her cheeks. "It's one thing to feed people, and that's always satisfying, and another..." When people specifically hand over money for things she's made.

"Lots of prep. Lots and lots of baking, and running around getting cards printed and-- I'm probably not going to make a profit on today, but hopefully enough of my cards will be out there that it'll pay off longer term. That's the hope. I haven't had the chance to ask yet, about your trip. It was good?"

“Even if it doesn’t,” Jules says, “you’re still doing it. And that’s worth being proud of.” She’s proud of Una, at least, and she looks it.

With the question that comes her way, Jules’ smile shifts into a different kind of satisfaction. “Well, we didn’t kill each other,” she says brightly. “So I count that as a win. But in all seriousness, yeah, it was good. We had fun.”

Una lets her smile broaden, just a little bit; it acknowledges Jules' pride, shyly, though she lets that thought go.

Besides: she has gossip to listen to. "I am delighted to know that you're both still alive," she teases. "That's such a relief. I'm glad. I'm glad you got to get away together, and that it was good. We all need a bit of fun, right?"

Ah: there's Jennifer now, winding her way towards them. "Give me two secs," she tells Jules, grinning. "And then we can head."

“Absolutely,” Jules says fervently. “You know, as much as the Doors have led to some interesting places and experiences, there’s something to be said for choosing to get away. And where you’re going and who you’re going with.”

Anything more she might say about her trip is on hold, however, with Jennifer’s appearance. Jules scoops up her box of cinnamon rolls and waits while Una finishes the handover. Really, she’s admirably patient given the deliciousness right there in her grasp.

Jennifer's a sixteen-year-old from down the street, more than happy to man the stall for a few hours for the sake of a bit of cash in hand (and a cookie or two). There's a minute or two of quiet conversation between Una and her new assistant, as Jennifer insists she's fine, she knows what she's doing, go and Una hesitates.

But finally, finally, Una acknowledges it, shoves her phone into her pocket, and steps around the stall to join Jules. "I'll be back in an hour or two," she promises Jennifer. "Call me if you need me."

"Go," says Jennifer. "Seriously, I'm fine."

So. Una turns to Jules. "I hear you on the choosing from. Come on-- let's go find your family."

“She’ll be fine,” Jules reiterates as they step away, trying not to grin so obviously at how concerned Una is with her new business venture. “This way.”

Jules may have a destination in mind, but she’s happy to slow down while passing booths of interest. There’s another baker’s stand set up, predominantly selling bread, but also doling out the cinnamon rolls (“They don’t look nearly as good as yours,” Jules comments in passing.) A stand of freshly made tamales, which is quiet for the moment but sure to pick up as noon approaches. More bread. Jams and jellies, apples and cherries, and finally—

“There you are!” Jules spies her family under the shade of a tent, camped out on folding chairs behind a table. The sign on it proclaims, “Wild Blueback Salmon—Only Found In The Quinault River!” along with pricing. “I brought cinnamon rolls. You remember Una? She made them.”

Ada looks up from under her hat, eyes crinkling with welcome. “Of course! Good to see you again, Una.”

Una's got a wary eye for the other baker, and Jules' comment only helps ease her apprehension slightly: competition isn't a good thing, however unexpected. Still, she's interested in the other stalls, and quick to examine what's on offer both in considering business ("I could do jam tarts... that could be fun, right?") and pleasure ("Ooooh, those cherries look excellent. I wonder if anyone has any of the doughnut peaches."), all the way to the salmon stall, and the members of Jules' family assembled there.

"Good morning, Mrs Black. Mr Black. It's a pleasure to see you again as well. How's business?"

“Ada, Charlie, Alex,” the matriarch of the Black clan says firmly, pointing to each member in turn. The latter looks up from his phone to take in Jules’ friend, offering a pleasant, “Hey.” His gaze lingers on her with interest.

“Mostly just the smoked salmon so far,” Charlie says, standing up with his hand outstretched. “But it’s early. I expect people will come back for salmon later on, when they’re getting ready to leave. Have you tried our smoked salmon yet?” Jules has undoubtedly brought some home to share; she can’t help but repress a smile, though, for her grandfather and his question, as she pops the top of the box.

“We’re saving one,” she rather sternly tells her brother, who widens his eyes as if surprised at being singled out.

“What did I do?”

"Ada," repeats Una, a little abashed, pink suffusing her cheeks. "Charlie. Alex. Nice to meet you, Alex. Jules has talked a lot about you. The cinnamon rolls are fresh this morning-- I hope they're okay. I was too nervous to eat."

Still, she doesn't seem nervous now: just smiling warmly at people she knows (and has just been introduced to). "I have," she tells Charlie, "and it was amazing. Best I've ever had... which, granted, is not that difficult. Smoked salmon was still considered fancy food when I was growing up. I'm so lucky to have access to your catch, with Jules around. I can see why people would come back, though. A few people said the same at my stall-- that is, I'm selling my baked goods, this time around-- just because they don't want to carry things around with them."

“You’re a bottomless pit, and you know it,” Jules tells her brother, who just sighs melodramatically.

To be fair, Alex is far more interested in following up Una’s remark. “Oh has she,” he says while reaching for the cinnamon rolls and cutting a look at his sister.

“Oh yeah,” Jules retorts. “Like how that one time when you were little and lost your swim shorts in the water.”

Charlie chuckles, meanwhile, and gracefully intercedes with his a change of subject before sibling rivalry escalates. “Well, you’ll have to take a piece home with you, on the house,” he tells Una. “We’ll have to stop by later and pick something up to take home with us. Jules here says you’re thinking about starting a business?”

It might be Una who spots the next arrival first, given she's approaching the Black family from behind as any other potential buyer might. It's Ariadne, dressed today in a flowing confection of a sundress in watercolor floral accents of peach and warm orange (poppies?) on dreamy pale-lavender. Courier purse across her body in deliberate hiccup of fashion, she's sans Sam because he had his walk this morning and now it's her-time.

Lifting a hand, the barista with her hair in a lazy bun (thus flashing the underpanel of celestially-hued dye-color) twiddles fingers in greeting rather than immediately blurts out aforementioned greeting. She does drift towards Jules' half of things based off familiarity with the young woman and grins greeting to her as well if noticed.

"Any snickerdoodles?" asks she at an appropriate moment.

No one's surprised ever of this question, surely, from the redhead who always requests this particular cookie to be made for front porch lounge-abouts.

"Oh no," says Una, quickly. "Let me pay for it. She paid for the cinnamon rolls, and I can't let that go without doing likewise. If you make me pay, I'l have to make you pay when you come by later, too. It's the way it works." She's grinning, but there's a determination to her voice too. "Yes-- I mean, that's the plan, I hope. How things go today will give me some kind of indication, I guess, as to whether it's going to work, but I hope so."

Ariadne's arrival draws a brilliant smile from the sundress-wearing baker. "There are always snickerdoodles," she promises. "I'll set some aside for you, when I head back-- Jennifer from down the street is minding it for me, for now." She seems to have mixed feelings about this, but is determined to be cheerful. "You look amazing. That dress is gorgeous!"

“You’re a smart business woman, I see,” says Charlie as Una haggles over payment, eyebrows lifting in amusement. “Fine, so we’ll pay later. That’ll be two dollars.” It’s an absurdly low rate, of course, and he doesn’t try to hide it.

“Damn, Ari! Look at you being your gorgeous self.” Jules grins in welcome. “Meet my grandparents. Ada and Charlie, and that’s Alex.”

Aka her younger brother, who from his station behind the counter, does his best not to stare and to conduct himself like a polite young man instead of a boyish twenty-something who is visibly checking out both of Jules’ friends.

As to snickerdoodle cookies? "Sweet," opines Ariadne with a dimpled grin. Literally sweet. "I'll pay for them too," she notes while her smile takes on a funning, cheeky cast. She'd been in time to overhear the haggling and appears to be amenable to either paying or accepting any cookies set aside in the name of friendship. "And thank you! Just the right weather for it today and I felt like dressing up a bit."

But there's Jules' family to greet! As such, unconsciously brushing palms down the skirt of her dress at her hips, she then offers out a calm extrovert's hand to be shaken as taken. "Ada, Charlie, Alex." Said with a look at each person's face, the better to memorize. "I'm Ariadne, barista over at Espresso Yourself and enabler of caffeinated states. Jules puts up with my terrible sense of humor on the regular. Una too, but she feeds me too, so I'm probably like a stray cat at this point." Dimples are showcased.

Una gives Charlie a look that says she's not even remotely fooled. Better expect those cookies to be ridiculously inexpensive, sir, if that's how you want to play this game. She has a different look for Ariadne, one that suggests she's caught between being a businesswoman and being a friend, and finding the position awkward.

"It's fun to dress up," she says, instead. "Particularly when the weather's nice. I'm not sure you count as a stray anymore, Ari; by now, you're practically domesticated, right?"

"Eh..." Ariadne's handwaffling is good-natured and she ends up laughing. "Sure, we'll call it domesticated. You keep feeding me and me and Sam might move onto your front porch and never leave. Sam's my dog," she adds as clarification for Jules' family. "Silken Windhound, very good boy, and I say that with honesty, not with bias. Well. There's bias, but really, I tried very hard to train him to be a furry gentleman."

She hasn't missed the offerings of the catches out of the Quinault, however, and is already fiddling through her courier purse for cash. Smoked salmon? Yes, please, because it's going home to be mixed with cream cheese, a dollop of milk, and a sprinkling of dill for cracker spread. Red wine too? A night in to be enjoyed.

“Nice to meet you,” says Ada as the Black family shakes hands with Ariadne one by one. They’re all stationed behind a booth with a sign reading, “Wild Blueback Salmon—Only Found In The Quinault River!” Coolers abound behind the table, and there’s vacuum-sealed packs of smoked salmon on the table itself. “Always good to meet Jules’ friends.” And being Jules’ friend, the going rate is two dollars for Ariadne as well.

Cheerfully, from Una: "There's a fourth bedroom. We'd have to work out shower privileges," always a challenge, "but I'm sure we would make it work. Sam's a very good boy, and I have some more of those dog treats I made. If he were here..." Alas. He is not.

She casts a glance back in the vague direction of her own stall, but it's too far to see it from here, and anyway, Jennifer will probably roll her eyes dramatically if Una rushes back too quickly. Instead, she turns back to Ariadne and the collective Blacks. "How long are you staying down here?" she wants to know. "We could do a barbecue in the back yard this evening? Nothing too late, I know you have a drive back."

Two dollars for smoked salmon? Twist her arm. If there's a tips jar though, the barista is certain to add a few dollars in honor of food retail and the quality of the product at hand.

Una's commentary makes her fellow redhead laugh again, a bright and chiming sound. "Oh man, I'll definitely ask politely for one of those treats to take back to him. I promise, he knows they're made by you and he adores you for it." A ring of truth in her words; she'd only just recently informed Una of being able to literally talk to Sam along the mental plane as is. "And if rent gets to be too much for me, you bet I'm going to move into that fourth bedroom. Sam does just fine with cats, I'm sure he'd get along with the kittens both. There are adorable kittens running around that house and I'm due to see them, so..."

This half-aimed at the Black family and an accent to Una's invitation about a barbecue.

“That sounds wonderful,” says Ada after exchanging a look with her husband to check where he stands on the invitation. “We were planning to pack up once we’d either sold everything or it as slows down. Jules, what time do you finish work?”

“Around six,” the woman in question reports. “I can meet you here afterwards, help you pack up, and we can all head over together?”

A nod from Ada, who says two things. First: “We’ll save a nice fillet for tonight.” Second: “Will your friend be joining us?” It’s asked far too innocently for her to mean Ariadne.

Jules, who glances between Una and Ariadne with a look that communicates help, answers, “Uh. TBD.”

"Good," says Una. "Good." One of these may be for Sam and his approval of her dog treats; another may well be for the rest of what Ariadne has to say-- or, for that matter, Ada's acceptance of the invitation as well.

"We'll keep it super simple," she promises. "But the kittens would love to be cosseted, I'm sure, and I'm always happy to have guests around. Della won't mind either. I love entertaining." Will she still love entertaining after a whole day of selling her wares? Oh, who cares -- that's a problem for later.

"He'd be more than welcome," added to Jules, may not be the help the other woman is looking for. But it's what Una has to offer, so...

"Mmm, kittens." Ariadne, now holding her section of smoked salmon, would curl her toes in delight except they can't be seen in her slip-on sneakers. "I'll bring something too, don't worry. Drinks? Dessert? Sides? I make a mean potato salad. Or I can do a normal green salad?"

But poor Jules. Ariadne's hazel eyes flick to her. "I can't remember if your boo likes salad or not. He's always seemed more like a meat kind of guy. But maybe if he's not busy, he can show?" Maybe. She's trying very hard not to smile from ear to ear, give her a cookie.

“We’ll see.” Ariadne gets the dirty look, not Una. Her boo. So much for plausible deniability. “I will go ahead and put in my request for potato salad.”

Ada is thoroughly amused, though her smile remains unassuming. Much like her Glimmer: present, but unobtrusive. “I heard about these kittens of yours. Some kind of Greek breed, if I recall correctly?”

"Potato salad would be excellent," declares Una, firmly. "Tell him," and she's talking to Jules this time, "to bring something too. He can't escape me forever." Poor Mikaere. Somewhere, probably not too far from here, out at the marina, he's suddenly quivering in his shoes. No pressure!

"Oh, they're Rom-- Italian, I guess?" The redhead answers Ada first blithely, and then more hesitantly. "I mean, they were strays. They're no special breed, really. Athena and Hephaestus. They're adorable little things. I think they already rule the roost a bit, but we like that about them anyway, so it's absolutely fine."

Such a flutter of lashes and simpering little smile at Jules. It appears if Jules wants to take revenge, she can, tit-for-tat. "Potato salad it is, not too much paprika. My mom tends to over-spice the salad when she makes it. I love me some paprika, but too much is too much." Anyone who's experienced this will likely agree.

"Here, I got a pic texted to me not too long ago..." Bringing out her phone, Ariadne thumbs through the texts she's received and then showcases the picture of the two kittens for the Black family. They're certainly showcasing their personalities in it. The barista displays this picture like a proud auntie (despite not having met the little scamps yet).

“We’ll see about that,” Jules mutters rebelliously. Louder, to give the man in question a perfectly legitimate out: “Besides, he might be working.”

Down at the end of the table, her brother is smirking far too widely, though he keeps any comments to himself. For now.

“Oh, that’s right,” Ada says blithely, leaning in to look at the photo that Ariadne displays on her phone. “I mixed it up because of their names. How adorable!”

Jules is perhaps a bit pointed as she says, “We should probably let you go, before we scare all your customers away. I think that gentleman might want to talk to you about the fish.” Indeed, there is a skinny man standing to one side and eyeing the price list.

Una doesn't need to look at the photo, of course, but she positively beams over its sharing, proud cat mama that she is. "They're delightful," she agrees. "Athena's the bold one; Hephaestus is bit shy." And it's hard to miss that it is the latter kitten for whom she has the most affection, though Athena doesn't go without either.

Jules' pointed comment earns a twitch of a smile-- and then a bigger frown. "We'll let you go," she agrees. "And I need to check back in with Jennifer, before I do any further shopping of my own. But I'll be back for my fish, I promise, and we'll definitely see you all tonight."

Oops, customer, must not disallow a chance for a sale!

Ariadne, grinning, slips her phone away into her purse and resettles her purchase of smoked salmon beneath her arm. "Sounds like a good plan to me. I'm going to have to pay you for those snickerdoodles at the barbecue, Una, because I realized, hilariously...I don't have any potatoes." Rueful eyeroll. "So I've got shopping to do and prep work and then walking Sam before this shindig, so! Let me nip off to get all this figured out and I'll see you all tonight."

Air-kisses for Una and Jules both, kiss-kiss, and with a twiddle of fingers, Ariadne then makes her way back towards her parked car. It wasn't a long errand -- but she did get smoked salmon, so, win!!!

“Of course,” says Ada with a smile. “Looking forward to seeing you all tonight.” To business, then—both their own and Una’s.

Jules lifts her hand in a wave to see Ariadne off, calling behind her, “See you later!” She takes up the cinnamon roll box again, now with only two rolls left. “Jennifer’s fine,” she tells Una then, “in case you want to look around a bit.”

Chances of Ariadne being asked for payment when it comes to handing over snickerdoodles? Minimal. "Bring Sam," she says, as she leans in to return the air-kiss. "If you want to. We'll see you later."

She steps hastily out of the way of Ada's customers, wiggling her own fingers in farewell for the Blacks. To Jules: "I guess. It really is okay, by the way, if you want to invite him. And if you don't... that's also fine. No pressure, okay?"

“Oh, I know,” Jules says as they get underway, leaving the booth clear for the man interested in purchasing salmon. “It’s more like, would it be weird? I realize that’s stupid, since he’s already met them. But I introduced him as my friend that time, and Ari just blew that straight out of the water.”

As if her family doesn’t already know. Jules admits to this with a rueful smile, saying, “It’s not like it’s a big secret. It’s just—I don’t know. Undefined. I’m making a thing out of nothing, aren’t I?”

"I bet it's really weird," agrees Una, unfazed. "It's one thing to introduce someone as a friend, but another when... when it's so obviously less so. But you really do have to bring him around, because it's not fair that he's still escaped meeting me. What if I don't approve? You might have to cast him back out to sea, and that would be awkward for all concerned."

Laughing, then, she adds, "'Boo' is such a ridiculous term. Where does it even come from, I wonder?"

“Right?” Jules is happy to focus on the more ridiculous elements at play, grinning as she glances across. “Boo. Bae. There was another one Ari used one time, but I can’t remember. How many other ridiculous names can we come up with?”

She hitches her step in time to bump hips with Una. “Promise he’s not just a figment of my imagination—and that I’m not deliberately keeping him away from you. Though at this point, it’s practically a running joke. The nonexistent housemate, the pretend boyfriend.” Pause. “Or whatever.”

"Stud-muffin?" Una proposes this without giving it much more thought, though as soon as the word is out of her mouth she begins to giggle, which probably means it is not a winner. "I guess it's hard, when you don't have a specific term to use."

She bumps her hip back at Jules' in turn, still laughing. "I know," she confirms. "It's really all right. If I thought you were actually keeping him from me, or vice versa, it'd be weird, but I know it's just been circumstance. Boyfriend, bae, boo, whatever he is-- really, it's fine."

Now Jules is giggling too, with Una’s contribution. “Speaking of, did I tell you about his modeling side gig? He was mortified that I found out. It’s amazing. I texted Della a photo.” Because of course she did.

“Booty call on a boat,” she proposes next. Now it’s turning into a game. “Friend with really good benefits.”

"Modelling side gig? Do tell."

Only-- she's also giggling (and blushing, just a little) for the rest of what Jules is saying.

But: "Is he your anchor?"

"An-chors aweigh..." and that would be from Della, coming up from behind Una, her finger no longer to her lips in warning to Jules.

"Boo."

“You’re fired,” Jules declares. “So fired.”

Bad pun aside, she’s happy to dish the details—though not until Della has made her surprise appearance. “Hey! So it all started when Dita texted me a picture—“

"Out of a cannon?" Una wants to know, just to fit in with the nautical theme. Turning her head at the sound of Della's voice, she wiggles her fingers at her other housemate, though her attention slides back to Jules.

Storytime, see. It's important.

"With confetti," Della decides, pulling up besides Una to give Jules arched brows and a demure not-quite-grin.

"That picture?" Whichever picture. Surely there are many that are incriminating.

“That picture,” Jules confirms with her own smirky grin. “Some lady from Seattle was looking for men of color to pose in this old warehouse. Which totally sounds like an exotic dancer kind of thing. Anyway, Ravn and Perdita thought something weird was up with that, so they recruited Mikaere, and before you know it, voila, I’m receiving pictures I was never supposed to know about. Here.”

She gets out her phone to pull up the picture in question—though at this point, she’s got more than one. So much for those photos never seeing the light of day.

This is not, surely, the first time Una's seen a picture of the boyfriend-who-lives-in-Canada (or whatever the equivalent is), but it's probably the first time she's seen a shirtless version: look at her blush. "I'm amazed he didn't make you delete it," she says, laughing. "Look at that ridiculous face!"

Expression, is what she means. The face is fine. The expression, on the other hand...

"Excellent." Doesn't mean Della won't lean over to eye it again. Clearly she has not fulfilled her housemately duties if she hasn't shared a certain video, but then again, maybe it's thanks to Una's running to hide.

"The poor, poor man."

She adds, "You should know that I haven't sent that one to Tui."

“He knows that if he tried, I’d just make Della text it to me again.” Never underestimate the power of weaponizing friends. “There’s more,” Jules adds, willing to relinquish her phone to either woman, should they so desire.

Della’s comment has her choking down a laugh. “Oh God, then he’d really never forgive me. Or you. Us. We’d all be cast overboard like a pile of fish gone bad.”

"Cruel," says Una, but there's nothing but amusement in her tone, and-- okay, yes, in the interests of research, she'll take Jules' phone and have a look at the photos on offer (carefully, just in case there's photos to see, and also photos that maybe should not be seen).

"You would absolutely deserve it," she tells them both, not looking up. "No mom needs to see things like this. Della, we're having Jules' grandparents and brothers, and Ari, and hopefully him as well," she never does say Mikaere's name, awkwardly, "for a barbecue tonight. I hope that's okay with you. I should get back to my stall in a moment."

"It's true, I would," Della assures, and butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. She'll peer over Una's shoulder, less carefully, and sometimes point.

Meanwhile, "First, ew; second, that's why we hold it in reserve." And not directly related, "Sure, of course. I'd been meaning to drop in on them anyw-- Look at that. Is that a smolder? I'm thinking Jumanji here, whichever number that was. Tell me you remember."

While she's at it, "Jennifer is doing fine." Beat. "Though there was getting to be a line..."

All photos are perfectly suitable for sharing, thank you very much (including the new ones from the trip down the Oregon Coast she just came back from). “Absolutely a smolder. I think the photographer was actually calling out shit like, ‘smolder for me! You’re a hot sexy tiger!’ Or something equally ridiculous.”

Jules grins widely, though she does hold out her hand for the phone again at the mention of the line at Una’s cookie stands. “We better let you go—and I need to deliver these and change before work.”

"... ugh," says Una, but truthfully, she's well and truly distracted by Della's mention of Jennifer, and all-but-thrusts the phone back at Jules. "I'll see you later!" she says, before turning to hasten off back to rescue her stall.

Now Della's snickering, trying to breathe amidst repetitions of hot and sexy and tiger and that much more laughter. It distracts her enough that she doesn't try to intercept; "I can just imagine."

She can. She's also going to remember this.

"Fine, work." -- "Bye, Una! -- "I'll just have to grab one of those cards for my mom, did you see them, all scenic but with decorations? She'll go gaga."

She's still muttering -- giggling -- about hot tiger as they go their separate ways.