From the way that the sun poured gracefully through the window, poking out like glowing strips between the kelly green blinds, the fact that most of the customers hadn't bothered to bring their coats out with them and of course, the vivid collections of summer blooms that Chuck and Olive had arranged in shiny sky blue vases on each one of the polished tables, it was obvious to anyone who entered the pie hole that day that summer had certainly arrived. In any case they did not pick up on those hints, taking a glance at the menu would set the record straight. The decorative menus of The Pie Hole boasted of some of the finest summery fruit-filled pastries; blackberries and blueberries, peaches and cherries and of course, the summer fruit special. It had become fact that spring was out and summer was in.
Even so, Chuck seemed slightly trodden. Olive leaned lazily over the counter, failing at fanning herself with a flour-clouded rolling pin, and eyed Chuck, who herself, was eyeing the pie-crumb littered counter.
"Okay," Olive began when she figured Chuck wasn't about to begin conversation, "What's wrong?"
Chuck glanced up and smiled, her lips pink from too many rosy cherries, "Nothing's wrong." she lied all too perfectly.
"Right," Olive rolled her eyes and placed her rolling pin down on the counter, "Usually, you're surrounded by an aura so bright that it almost puts this sun to shame and today you're being followed by a little cloud of grey. What's wrong?" she repeated.
"Nothing," Chuck repeated, "It's just too hot in here, don't you think?"
Olive enthusiastically agreed with Chuck's statement and then shrugged off the girl's strange mood to go and deal with some patiently waiting customers.
"Maybe you're just too hot because you insist on wearing those gloves in the middle of August." Emerson said curtly from the other side of the counter, raising a knowing eyebrow as he sipped at his coffee.
"I'm wearing these because I have a very delicate condition on my hands," Chuck said breezily, "They sunburn easily and rash. Haven't you heard of that?"
Emerson replied with a blank stare before going back to flicking through his papers.
Chuck sighed and tugged at the white woolen gloves. They were specially bought so they'd reach up past her wrist but the heat was too unbearable. Chuck pulled off each glove with ease and laid them down on the counter.
"What about your condition?" Emerson pondered with disbelief.
"Well, we're indoors now," Chuck grinned, "So It doesn't matter whether I wear my gloves or not,"
"Yeah, right," Emerson said, seemingly bored of the situation, "In any case, your boyfriend needs to get out of that kitchen because we have a job lined up."
"A job?" Chuck asked with sparkling enthusiasm.
"We have a job?" Ned said, walking out from the kitchen and over to Chuck and Emerson, dusting off the flour from his forearms and blue gloves onto his apron.
"You're wearing gloves too?" Emerson asked, although it was more of a sarcastic statement.
"Safety precaution." Ned stated obviously and then diverted his eyes to Chuck who smiled at him and almost instantly he reached out to take her hand, and secretly smiling to himself when he knew that he could do those things on a whim now. Now that they had matching 'safety precaution' gloves. However, the pie maker was surprised to see, that as he slid his hand across the counter, staring into Chuck's eyes, she quietly called 'Don't!' and pulled her hand away. And Ned let a strange feeling impending doom and hover and then fall upon him.
"It-It's just I'm not wearing my gloves," Chuck smiled innocently.
"Ah," Ned sighed and looked at the two white gloves atop the counter. "I thought- well- yeah." He smiled but then stopped short again.
"But why weren't you wearing your gloves?" he asked, sounding slightly more hurt than he tried to make possible.
Emerson leant back and sighed heavily, mumbling to himself about saps and jobs.
"It's because it's so hot," Chuck explained, "Don't you think?"
But the pie maker hadn't thought. Being around cookers and kitchens made him less a suspect to weather changes. In fact, it was the menus and seasonal fruits Olive subscribed to him to put in the pies that made him aware of season changes, and most recently, the kinds of flowers Chuck would take care of.
"I hadn't realised," Ned said, feeling a little put down he couldn't just grab Chuck's hand when he felt he could. They had purposely bought two sets of matching gloves that had woven patterns that meant every hole would be sealed if they were to hold hands wearing both pairs of gloves, plus, they stretched past the wrist so there was no chance of any dangerous bumps. But now it was summer. And people don't wear gloves in summer. Ned suddenly felt like his summer, was fading.
"I'll wait next to the car," Emerson said impatiently, getting as far away as possible from such a sweetened, sappy situation.
"So," Ned began awkwardly, "We should go," he said, beginning to both smile and pull off his gloves.
"Wait!" Chuck raised her hand, "I'm putting them on now!"
Ned watched as Chuck yanked her white gloves over her hands and grinned, standing up to follow him.
"Are you sure?" Ned asked, undoing his apron, "If it's too hot, you mightn't want to-"
"I want" Chuck paused and smiled, "To hold hands with you,"
Then she laughed and reached out, firmly grasping Ned's woolen hand with her own and letting him fondly lead her into a street full of sunshine.