Page 101 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

“Pops used lists.”

“He did not.”

“He did.”

“He kept everything in his head.”

“He pretended to…” I glanced where he stood beside the tractor out of the corner of my eye. “Meme made the lists.”

“That I believe,” he laughed under his breath, and I smiled.

The work was enormous. But different now. Yesterday, the festival had felt like one giant impossible thing. Today, it was a list. Lists could be handled. One item at a time.

Beau looked my way, wiping grease from his hands. “What actually has to happen before October?”

I glanced at the calendar on my phone figuring it was best to prioritize with the time that I did have. “Safety first.”

“Good idea, so the wagons?”

“Yes, and the south fence if we’re using that pasture.”

“Definitely.”

“Lighting would be next.” I looked down at the list to confirm my thoughts.

“Can rent some,” Beau suggested, taking a seat on the tractor, and I nodded because that wasn’t a bad idea.

“The barn needs paint and some repairs.”

He looked toward it. “That’s all cosmetic unless you want people inside.”

I did, and I hadn’t told him yet how I’d already started picturing the old cider tables near the doors…

I wrote barn beneath want.

Then crossed it out.

Moved it to need.

Beau saw but didn’t comment. Which was slowly becoming one of the things I liked about him.

He noticed everything.

My stomach growled loudly, I quickly looked away from him in embarrassment.

“When did you last eat.” He stood, closing the distance between us, forcing me to make eye contact.

“Breakfast.”

“Which was?”

“Coffee.”

“Coffee isn’t breakfast, sweetheart.”

My stomach growled again.

Beau checked his watch. “It’s almost one.”