Page 21 of Autumn on My Mind

A smile flutters to my lips, and I sigh as I approach the counter. “Two maple bars, please,” I tell the woman at the cash register—Morgan Keller, I believe, Mrs. Keller’s daughter. Then, when I glance around and spot two old ladies sitting at a corner table, I amend my order: “Actually, let’s do three.”

Morgan nods, and a few seconds later, a head pops out from the back.

It’s Sadie, a cheerful smile on her face, a smudge of flour on her cheek. “Hi!” she says. “I thought I heard you come in. Grabbing some donuts?”

Morgan hands me a paper bag, which I hold up to show Sadie.

“Guilty,” I say, and Sadie grins.

“Get in as many as possible before you leave town again,” she says, her red ponytail swinging behind her as she continues to lean out. “Or even better, just stay here!”

“Oof.” The sound pops out of my mouth before I can stop it, and Sadie wrinkles her freckled nose.

“Autumn Ridge forever isn’t for you?” she says, looking sympathetic.

“No, it’s not that,” I say quickly. “I love Autumn Ridge. I’m just—” But I break off, because it’s hard to accurately describe the experience 0f sharing a room with Alvina. “I have no problem with Autumn Ridge,” I say instead. “I’m just a bit cramped in my current housing situation. But it’s fine!”

“I totally get that,” Sadie says with a nod. She thinks for a second, tilting her head, and then she goes on, “You know, I’m pretty sure Rosie Harper has been doing a lot of work on her inn recently. If you’re desperate for some space of your own, you could talk to her.”

Rosie Harper—Dom’s twin sister. I haven’t run into her yet since being back, but she’d probably be happier to see me than Dominic was.

Then again, it’s a low bar.

“I’ll check it out,” I tell Sadie. It’s probably not true, but I don’t feel like getting into all the details; I’m here to buy donuts, and Sadie is busy anyway. So we wave goodbye to each other, and then she pops into the back again.

Rather than sitting at one of the empty tables, I grab a plastic knife and head to the table in the corner, where I settle across from the old ladies I saw a minute ago.

“Edna,” I say, nodding to the one on the left—Edna Gilbert. Then I smile at the one on the right, Edna Bloomberg. “And Edna.”

The Ednas are Autumn Ridge’s resident grapevine. Well into their wrinkled years, sporting the same name and the same penchant for gossip, they’re the perfect people to talk to if you want information.

You just have to be able to weed out what’s true and what’s…less true.

Both of them return my greeting nod. “Reese,” they say in rickety voices.

“I brought you ladies a donut,” I say, because one does not approach the altar of information-seeking without a proper offering. So I pull out one of my three maple bars and cut it neatly down the middle.

“Ooh,” Edna Gilbert says, watching the donut halves with sparkling eyes as I pass them across the table. She’s the more petite of the two, with fluffy, white-blonde hair. “Don’t mind if we do.”

“Enjoy,” I say, gesturing. “And while you’re eating, I’d love to hear the latest about our dear town.” I lean closer. “It somehow escaped me that my mother has a new beau”—I only say this because I’m absolutely positive the Ednas already know—“so I’d like to hear what else I’m missing out on.”

Edna Bloomberg hums enthusiastically, raising her eyebrows at Edna Gilbert as they munch. When they’re done chewing, they lean forward too.

“Well, they met at church,” Edna on the left says. “And the family of one Daryl Harper isn’t happy with the arrangement.”

Edna on the right nods with vigor. Her voice lowers conspiratorially as she adds, “Consensus seems to be that Mr. Harper has been feeling especially lonely as of late, what with the time of year”—she waves her hand at the window, through which the brilliantly colored trees lining Main are visible—“and the years getting on.”

“Ah,” I say slowly, leaning back in my chair and thinking. It’s been ten years since Dominic’s mom passed, and it was during the fall sometime. There were leaves on the ground at her funeral, half the town crammed into the tiny cemetery behind the church on Main.

I feel an unexpected twinge of pity at this thought, for Daryl and for the rest of them. A new woman has entered their lives, brash and rushed and overwhelming, and that woman turns out to be Alvina.

It’s sadder than I thought, one more knot in the tangled feelings that are my relationship with my mother.

“Anything else?” I say.

“Well,” Edna on the left says as she brushes the crumbs from her mouth. “Things appear to be moving quickly. Daryl is an upright man, you know. Values propriety and whatnot. But that mother of yours”—I actually appreciate that she doesn’t look apologetic—“she’s a bit of an undertow.”

“Quicksand,” the other Edna says with a nod.