Chapter 11: Dagny's Terms

Dagny held up the second paper cup.

"It's a flat white," she said to me. "I guessed oat milk. You look like an oat milk person."

"Dagny," said Soren.

"I'm not going to say anything," said Dagny. "I want to be very clear. I am delighted."

I came down two steps in my quilt and took the coffee.

"You're delighted?"

"Zeman and Vinter," said Dagny, glowing. "Forty years of rubbish, and my brother finally has a hobby."

"It's not a hobby," said Soren, scarlet to the ears.

"It's a little bit a hobby," I said.

"I have terms," said Dagny.

Of course she did.

She sat on the step with her cup on her knee and ticked them off on her fingers.

She ran the whole front counter of the Vinter's Bakery, and nobody had ever asked what she wanted.

"One. The Kringle Cart."

"No," said Soren, instantly. "We've talked about this. It's a loan, it's a permit, it's a generator..."

"I have a business plan. It's forty pages."

"It's forty pages?"

"Soren. For three years I've run your register, your phone and your socials."

"I want a cart at the State Fair, selling kringle, with my name on the side."

She said it very quickly.

The sun was coming up over the lake.

I watched Soren look at his sister, and I watched something in his face change.

"Forty pages," he said again.

"With photographs."

"Show me at lunch."

"Two," said Dagny, who had not expected to win and was recovering. "I get a say in the Cup entry."

"Absolutely not."

"Soren!"

"Your say is in the tasting," I put in. "Everyone needs a taster who'll tell them the truth."

"Fine. Three. You take one weekend off."

"I don't take weekends."

"One. Before the Fair. Or I tell Farfar about the shirt."

"That is blackmail."

"I'm working in food service," said Dagny, with dignity. "It's all I know."

"Fine," said Soren. "Fine. Yes. All of it. Is there a four?"

"There's a signal," said Dagny. "A tea towel on the alley rail means the coast is clear."