Page 114 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

“Not too far, but some land would be nice.” I looked through the window. From here, there wasn’t another house visible. Just trees and miles and miles of grass. Fence lines disappearing over gentle hills. “A couple acres. Maybe more.” The image formed easily because I’d carried some version of it for years. “Enough room for a workshop. Barn if I ever get around to buying horses…”

Carson stopped moving almost as though she was holding her breath before asking her question. “You want horses?” she asked.

“Eventually.”

“You know how to ride?”

“Enough not to embarrass myself.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“I can stay on.”

“Still not an answer.”

“I haven’t fallen off since I was sixteen.”

“Because you haven’t ridden since you were sixteen?”

“A couple times since.”

She looked unconvinced. “What else?”

The question surprised me. “What else what?”

“Your imaginary property.”

I leaned back. Nobody had ever asked me to describe it before. Not because it was a secret. It just wasn’t interesting enough to bring up.

“A house.”

“Bold choice.”

“Big porch.”

“Original.”

“Workshop.”

“You said that.”

“Are you going to criticize everything?”

“Probably.”

I looked toward the pasture again. “Enough land that neighbors aren’t looking through the windows. Maybe a few horses. Dogs.”

“How many?”

“Two.”

“Specific.”

“Big ones.”

“Of course.”

“Kids, eventually.”