Page 106 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

“I haven’t decided yet.” I slapped him lightly on the shoulder as I walked past. My brother twisted his lips, and I could hear him grumble as he reached into the cooler for a bottle of water. Before he could open it, the screen door of the farmhouse slammed.

We both looked toward the house.

Meme stood on the porch.

Even from across the yard, she looked more prepared for company than anyone had a right to be on a working dairy farm.

Her white hair had been twisted up neatly at the back of her head, and she wore a pale yellow dress beneath a floral apron. One hand rested against the porch railing while the other waved us toward the house.

“Boys! Food’s ready!”

Jax looked at me and grinned. “That’s the best thing anyone has said to me all day.” He started walking before I could answer. I grabbed both our gloves and tossed them into the truck bed before following.

The closer we got to the house, the more obvious it became that Evelyn Rome had interpreted lunch differently than the rest of the human population.

The smell reached the porch before we did.

Fried chicken.

Jax climbed the steps ahead of me. “If she has mashed potatoes, I’m moving in.”

“You’ve known the woman for five minutes.”

“I know what I want.”

Meme opened the screen door for us. “You two look terrible.”

Jax stopped. “Nice to see you too, ma’am.”

“You’re filthy.”

“We’ve been fixing your fence.”

“I can see that.” Her gray eyes moved toward me. “And you’re tracking dirt onto my porch.”

I looked down and stepped backward, wiping my boots against the mat. Jax did the same. Meme nodded approvingly.

“James never remembered,” she mumbled wistfully. I looked toward the door where a pair of old brown work boots sat beside it. They were worn enough that the leather had collapsed around the ankles, one lace permanently knotted halfway down the tongue. Dirt still clung to the grooves of the soles.

Five years later and James’s boots were still beside the door.

Something about that hit differently than the festival equipment had. Those boots were waiting for a man who wasn’t coming back…

Meme noticed where I was looking. “Can’t bring myself to move ‘em.” She reached past me and pushed the heavy door open. “He’d haunt me anyway, if I did.”

Jax stepped inside. “You believe in ghosts?”

“I was married to James Rome for forty-three years. I believe that man would find a way to annoy me from the grave.”

I laughed and followed them. The kitchen looked almost exactly the way I remembered it. Smaller, maybe, but still lived in. The cabinets had been painted cream at some point, and the old floral wallpaper was gone, replaced with pale green walls. But the long wooden table still sat beneath the windows overlooking the pasture, worn smooth from decades of use.

The house didn’t feel decorated. Nothing seemed chosen because it all just…matched.

A ceramic cow sat on the windowsill beside a vase of fresh marigolds. Children’s drawings, faded almost beyond recognition, were still held to the refrigerator with magnets. A collection of mismatched mugs hung beneath one cabinet; the oldest looked as though they had been there since before I was born.

And pictures covered nearly every available wall.

James and Evelyn on their wedding day.