Page 6 of Fall Fake-Out

Berk’s Hardware is having an early Labor Day sale.

Even though I haven’t visited in four years, everything in town feels pretty much the same. And if you have to leave Florida to live in Vermont, the fall season is definitely the time to do it. Autumn Ridge is known for its fall festivities and stunning, colorful leaves. Not surprising that I’m already seeing movement at Bugelbach’s Pumpkin Patch.

I round the corner, passing the white chapel, and head toward my parents’ house. The six-minute drive from the high school to home will definitely be an upgrade from my thirty-five-minute commute to the junior high I taught at in Florida. And it will be nice to teach some older grades and students.

See? I’m already thinking positively about this impromptu move home. Optimism for the win—or so I tell myself.

My parents’ blue house sits on the ridge of a rolling hill, perched as if it knows it holds all my happy childhood memories. I take in the acres surrounding the home as my car creeps up the drive. The garden with homegrown vegetables. The above-ground pool that hasn’t been used for years. The sledding hill I broke my arm on in sixth grade. The tree house in the maple tree. And in a small way, coming home doesn’t seem like such a setback after all.

There’s nowhere for me to park in the garage—Landrie’s car gets the coveted third spot. Not surprising, since she’s the favorite child and has never stopped living at home. So I pull up next to a white Explorer parked in the drive, not sure who’s here visiting my parents.

But as soon as I push open the front door, it’s obvious that my homecoming is overshadowed by something much more important.

I pause, seeing my little sister in her satin wedding dress with a draped bodice, off-the-shoulder straps, a slit A-line skirt, and pearl embellishments. My mom sits on the couch, watching with the permanent smile she’s been wearing since my sister got engaged five months ago. And next to Landrie, with her pincushion out, is Wade’s mom, Gina Stevenson.

“Oh. My. Gosh!” My hand covers my heart as my eyes meet my sister’s. “Lands, you look so beautiful!”

“You think?” Her wide smile beams back at me.

“How could I not think you look beautiful?”

Like, really. How could I not?

My baby sister was blessed with every good gene my parents had to offer. And if there wasn’t a good gene being passed down, her DNA somehow created it for her. Beautiful long blonde hair that doesn’t require highlights to stay light. Green eyes—do you know the percentage of the population that has green eyes? It’s low. Like two percent, but somehow Landrie managed it. Tan, clear skin. Perky boobs that aren’t too big or too small. Tiny waist. Long legs. You get the point. My sister is gorgeous.

Not surprising that she was Miss Burlington, Vermont, straight out of high school, because Autumn Ridge is too small for their own pageant. There was a revolt later that year when she got runner-up for Miss Vermont. The town passed around a petition that the pageant was rigged, for how could Landrie Langford, the darling of Autumn Ridge, come in second place?

It’s preposterous.

“You don’t think the slit is too high?” She kicks out one tanned leg.

I close the front door behind me. “I don’t, but Dad’s going to think so.”

“I can always adjust where the slit opens.” Gina moves the satin around so the slit isn’t so high on Landrie’s thigh. She tilts her head, examining it, causing her shoulder-length red hair to tilt too.

Landrie smirks. “I think Jaxon will prefer the slit stay where it’s at.”

Knowing Jaxon Walker as we do, we all nod in agreement.

Is it weird that Landrie is marrying one of my previous high school boyfriends?

No.

And yes.

Jaxon and I weren’t anything serious. We were friends long before we ever went to The Ridge to make out, but we did go there a few times in high school. So…that’s awkward.

I drop the laundry basket of clothes I’m holding; it hits the ground with a thud.

“Let me help you.” My mom finally jumps up.

“That’s okay. I can bring the rest of my stuff in later.”

Since there’s nothing for her to do, she opens her arms wide for a hug. “Glad you made it safe.”

It’s been a while since she and Dad visited me in Florida. And I’m surprised by how much her hug heals pieces of my broken heart, like a kid who fell off their bike and makes it all the way home to their mom before they start crying.

“I made you a sandwich. It’s waiting for you in the kitchen.” Her blonde hair wisps my face as we hug until she suddenly pulls back like she remembered something. “Oh, how did the job interview go?”