Orchard Valley Dark Chocolate Blueberries Novels & Stories

Ava and Jenny started running around the orchard once they got used to the new place. The blueberries in the orchard were large, round, and deep blue in color. I picked one and put it in my mouth. When Ava saw me doing that, her eyes widened and she pointed at me, shouting to Atlas, "Daddy, Mommy’s eating blueberries without even washing them! That’s so unhygienic.” Atlas had one too, and looked utterly delighted. Ava was even more confused. "Uh, Daddy..." I picked an even bigger blueberry and offered it to her. She blinked her big eyes, gazing at me for a moment before opening her mouth to take it. Her face scrunched up in delight.

I sighed again. “Here you go, doll. A big slice of apple pie, a small bowl of chocolate ice cream, and this time blueberry soda.” I peered over my notebook to gawk at the small spread that was laid out before me. A toasty shade of tan dough encased the golden apple chunks and amber colored filling. The small bowl was filled to the brim with three hearty scoops of chocolate ice cream. A tall glass filled with a delicious dark blue liquid and a curly pink bendy straw. “Let me know if you need a refill on anything, okay?” I nodded shyly, “Thank you.”

I wanted to give that back. I detoured to the kitchens first, waving off the startled staff with a single look. No one questioned the Alpha Devil when he walked in and started pulling out flour, sugar, chocolate, vanilla, cinnamon, dried berries—whatever I could find.I didn’t know what she liked best. So I made five kinds. Dark chocolate chunk with sea salt. Cinnamon oatmeal with raisins. Classic sugar with a soft center. White chocolate and cranberry. And peanut butter—because the scent reminded me of something warm and simple.

“Medium?—” “Large.” She sighs. “Large Açai-cado Avalanche.” “With a VitaPack,” I order the cashier. “Add the prenatal mix as well.” Daphne sucks in a deep breath. I’m pushing her buttons. Good. I’d rather that than the stunned, terrified silence she’s been stuck in.

“That’s not easy to source.” “No. It’s not.” Day five, a single box of candied bergamot slices arrived—carefully vacuum-sealed, still cool to the touch. No branding. Just a sticker: “Thought these might pair well with your Valencia bars.” I stood over the counter in the test kitchen that morning, holding one slice between two fingers. I didn’t taste it. I just stared at it, wondering who the hell knew that Harvest Bloom had been developing a Valencia line. It wasn’t public.