Banks Dynasty – Day 19.5 (Part 1)

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The following morning, I find Juanita in the kitchen cleaning up. I still feel like I should make up for what happened yesterday, so I walk over to check in with her.

Tambara: How’s everything going?

Juanita: Good, and I actually have some exciting news.

I’m not too sure what she could tell me that I’d consider even remotely interesting, but I listen.

Juanita: I harvested the strawberries this morning!

Exactly what I expected. Not thrilling.

Tambara: Okay? Why is that exciting?

Juanita: It means that we can start producing nectar today!

Nectar? I’d forgotten all about the nectar cellar in the basement. Producing nectar means making money for the ranch. I was wrong. Making simoleons is always exciting.

Tambara: Really? What do we need to do?

Juanita: We need to go down and start stomping fruit, which you’re dressed perfectly for. Let’s head down to the cellar.

Without another word, Juanita and I step outside and make our way to the cellar stairs.

We enter the cellar and look around. There’s a faint musty smell in the air. The lighting is low, and the space is a bit cramped, but I guess it’ll do for producing nectar.

Juanita: It’s a bit dusty in here. If we don’t keep it clean, then the nectar gets contaminated.

What does she mean by “we”? Keeping things clean is her job. I sit down on a bench while she vacuums and wipes everything down. Once the cellar meets her standards, she tells me the next step.

Juanita: Now for the hard work. We have to carefully clean and sanitize our feet and stomp on the fruit to extract the nectar.

That’s a bit shocking to hear. When she mentioned “stomping,” I thought that was ranch speak for something else. I didn’t know she meant stomping with our actual feet.

Tambara: With our feet? I thought we were concerned about contamination.

Juanita: That’s why we sanitize our feet.

There’s no amount of sanitizing involving feet that I’ll ever be satisfied with. I’m never drinking nectar again. But I sit and watch as Juanita cleans her feet, places a batch of strawberries in the big tub, and begins rigorously stomping on them until they’re nothing but pulp.

The more she stomps, the more the glass bottle next to the machine fills up. Juanita’s stomping produces so much nectar that she’s able to fill two bottles. She seals both and places them on a shelf.

Juanita: Okay, it’s your turn!

I’m glad to hear that, because if it’s my nectar, shouldn’t it be my feet doing the stomping? I trust the cleanliness of my own feet much more than anyone else’s.
I watch as Juanita fills the tub with apples.

Tambara: I thought we were stomping strawberries.

Juanita: I am, but you have to work your way up to strawberries. I purchased these this morning. Apple stomping is for beginners.

Beginners? How hard can stomping be?

I find out as soon as I step into the tub. Within a few stomps, I can see this is more like a workout than anything. It doesn’t take long before my thighs and hips are on fire. And the squishiness of the fruit pulp between my toes doesn’t make it any easier.

But eventually I get into a rhythm and discover that if I treat this like learning a new dance, it could be much more fun.

Tambara: I can practice my cowpoke skills while I’m—

Juanita opens her mouth to warn me, but it’s too late. I twist around, trying to show off, and discover just how slippery stomping fruit can be. The next thing I know, I’m on my butt surrounded by apple pulp.

Juanita jumps up in alarm.

Juanita: Miss Tami! Are you okay?

I’m embarrassed, but I didn’t injure myself. I get up as quickly as I can.

Tambara: I’m good.

Juanita: I was about to tell you to be careful. Fruit pulp can get very slippery.

Tambara: *sarcastic* Thanks for the warning.

I climb out of the tub and follow the steps I saw Juanita take to seal the bottle and place it on the shelf.

Juanita: It takes practice, but you’ll be an expert at this before you know it.

I’ll have to take her word for it — but not right now, because as I place my measly single bottle of nectar on the shelf, I receive a text on my phone. I look down and see that it’s from Marvel.

Juanita is behind me, working on a new batch of strawberries and giving me more instructions, but I’m not hearing a word she’s saying. My focus is on Marvel’s text.

Marvel’s Text: Sorry I didn’t get back to you yesterday. If you’re free, want to meet at Zee’s Bakes N’ Treats? It’s across from the café.

I wait a few moments so I don’t look overly excited, then try to make my response sound as casual as possible.

Tambara’s Text: Sure. My schedule just opened up. I can be there in a few hours.

Marvel confirms the time.

Tambara: *to Juanita* Thanks for the lesson, but I have to go!

I walk past her as she continues stomping.

Juanita: But I was just about to—

The door closes behind me before I can hear the rest of what she’s saying.

After an extra‑long shower cleaning apple pulp from places I’d rather not mention, I arrive in Oasis Springs and see Marvel in front of the bakery waiting for me. Like me, he’s dressed casually, which sets the tone for this meet‑up — making it clear this isn’t a date. Still, his face lights up when he sees me.

Marvel: You made it!

Tambara: I did.

We step inside, and I can see it’s more than just a bakery. It’s a full treat shop with bread, cookies, pies, and cupcakes.

Marvel walks over to the host just as he finishes a call with a customer.

Host: How many?

Marvel: Two.

Host: And will that be inside or outside?

Marvel: *to Tami* You want to sit inside or outside?

Tambara: Doesn’t matter, as long as we’re not in the direct sun.

Marvel decides for us.

Marvel: We’ll take an outside table with an umbrella.

The heat is more bearable than it was yesterday, but I’m still glad Marvel asked for a table with an umbrella. It’s warm enough that sitting in direct sun would’ve been miserable. We sit and open our menus. I look over the list of treats and try to decide what I’m in the mood for.

Once we’ve looked long enough and settled on our order, we put our menus away. I glance across the street at the gaming café.

Tambara: Do you come here a lot, too?

Marvel: Yeah, but for more than one reason. This place was first opened by my great‑great‑grandmother.** It’s called Zee’s because her name was Zena.

He says it matter‑of‑factly, even though it’s totally something I’d be bragging about. I wonder if he would’ve even mentioned it if I hadn’t asked.

Tambara: So your family still owns it?

Marvel: No, it was sold off by her daughter when she died. But under the condition that the new owners keep the name. It’s been completely remodeled, though.

It’s like his family is full of money and success, but he downplays it.

Tambara: You’re not even bragging about it.

Marvel: She did her thing. I’m trying to do mine.

I feel that. It’s what I’m trying to do with my ranch.

Marvel speaks up as if he read my mind.

Marvel: So, you own a ranch.

Tambara: How do you know?

Marvel: It’s the first thing on your profile.

Tambara: That’s right, it is.

Marvel: What’s it like?

I want to sound as impressive as Marvel’s family, but with him, it almost feels unnecessary.

Tambara: It’s a lot, but I have help. Today, I learned how to stomp fruit to produce nectar.

Marvel actually looks impressed — without me even trying.

Marvel: Nectar, huh? That sounds interesting. Is that what your family does? Ranching?

Tambara: Not really. But my grandparents ran a farm in Henford. My uncle runs it now. I’m the first rancher.

Until it came out of my mouth just now, I didn’t realize how impressive that sounds.

Our food arrives, and I look down at my plate for a moment to admire the perfectly shaped macarons. I glance up to get a good look at Marvel’s jelly donuts. They look just as tasty, but I get distracted by his intense lingering gaze. I’m suddenly feeling a little shy.

I pick up my mug of tea, giving myself an excuse to look away for a moment. But then I see something floating in my cup. I gasp quietly, not wanting to ruin the moment. Marvel picks up on it anyway.

Marvel: Everything okay?

Tambara: I think something is floating in my cup.

Marvel: I’m sorry. I can get you another one, or anything else you want.