Page 61 of Something About September

“Thank you,” he mouthed.

At the front, Crispin cleared his throat theatrically. “First prize to Gentle Giant, grown by Misters Cort and Pip Adams!” He held up a silver-topped staff Nazreen must have made for him and tapped the pumpkin like he was tapping a knight on the shoulder. “Long may she reign.” Soft laughter and applause.

They posed for a photo, Pip in the middle, Cort with a hand braced on the pumpkin, Rebecca at Pip’s other side. Click.

As the weigh-in broke into happy chaos and vendors began packing up so the evening could switch over for the dance, Melanie drifted in with Ryan, eyes shining with pride. She crouched down to speak to Pip. “Told you your math would help: perfect watering schedule.”

“It was science,” Pip said gravely, then launched into a breathless explanation involving soil temperature and coffee grounds. Melanie laughed, kissed his hair, and looked up at Rebecca. “Thank you,” she said.

“Thank you,” Rebecca said back, meaning it. Then she turned to Cort. “I have to go home and get ready for the dance.”

He nodded, tilted his head, smiled that smile of his, the one that got her every time. The one she felt all the way down to her toes, every time it was directed at her. “I’ll see you there,” he said.

“See you there,” she echoed.

As she walked away, she heard a voice calling her name.

“Rebecca.”

She turned. “Crispin.”

He stood at the edge of the midway, clipboard tucked under his arm, the Ferris wheel rising slowly behind him, its lights blinking on and off as it crested and dipped. The music from the rides drifted up around them, tinny and cheerful, and for a moment, they both paused, watching one of the cars reach the top. From there, Rebecca knew what the view was: The whole town lay spread out below, the square glowing, the tents like small white sails, Main Street stitched together with light.

“I heard a rumor you might be staying in town,” Crispin said, clearing his throat. “Turning the diner into a bookstore café.”

Rebecca laughed. “Seriously? Honestly, the rumor mill in this town…”

“Could power the Ferris wheel, if not an entire continent,” Crispin said, smiling. He checked something on his clipboard, then looked back up at her. “It’s good news. If you’re planning to reopen the diner in some way, that can only benefit Main Street. The diner has been missed.”

She glanced once more at the Ferris wheel as it turned, slow and steady. “I’m relieved you feel that way. I’m not exactly sure what it’s going to look like yet, but I know it will be special, and fit in perfectly with Bramley Hollow. I know this town.” She smiled as she said this, and Crispin did, too, then allowed the smile to fade and exhaled.

“Nasreen has mentioned a few times that perhaps I apply the regulations with…a touch too much zeal.” He adjusted his glasses. “I like to think Bramley Hollow benefits from this attention to detail, but…maybe not always.”

Rebecca managed to keep a straight face, wondering—as she often did—what Nasreen saw in Crispin, even as the affection for her beneath his words made it obvious. “I think that’s a very wise realization, Crispin,” she said.

“However,” Crispin said, straightening, “if you are indeed remaining and opening a legitimate establishment, I will require sign compliance.”

“Sign compliance?”

“A sign in tasteful dimensions. Participation in the seasonal scheme to a reasonable degree.” He hesitated, then surprised them both. “In return, I will waive your outstanding BIA fees.”

“Really, Crispin? That would be great. I could use that extra money for whatever comes next for the building.”

He thrust out his hand. “Then we have a deal. And order the sign early. Serif font preferred. Whimsical script is really only good in theory.”

He sailed off, clipboard in hand, disappearing into the glow of the fair. Rebecca watched him go, then turned to look up at the Ferris wheel rotating steadily above and felt happiness and certainty settle in her chest. Staying in one place did not have to mean standing still. She knew that now.

—

Sabrina and Rebecca got ready at the diner, and it was just like they were teenagers again. As Rebecca pinned up Sabrina’s hair and Sabrina did her makeup, they were both so full of excited chatter about all the possibilities for Blackbird & Bramley, Rebecca could truly envision it. It was more than a dream: It felt real.

She helped her friend zip up her dress, and they stood in front of the mirror in Rebecca’s room. “Look at us,” Rebecca said.

“We’re ravishing,” Sabrina said.

Then Rebecca’s smile faltered a little. “Beans, I need to show you something. I wanted to wait until you were here, in person. Come sit.”

They perched on the edge of the bed, and Rebecca pulled out her mother’s letter, opened it, and handed it to her friend.