Page 123 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

Unfortunately for me, fear didn’t give a damn what logic knew.

Beau looked down from the ladder, and our eyes met across the yard, like he was looking for me. Or like he knew I was watching him.

I turned toward Darlene before he could catch me actually staring. She had somehow acquired another sign and was holding it up for my approval.

This one said: WELCOME HOME, HARVEST FESTIVAL

I should have hated it because it wasn’t the sign my Pops had made. Instead, I just stared at it like suddenly everything might just be okay.

Welcome home.

Maybe that was what everyone thought this was. Bringing something back. But Beau had been right in the equipment barn.

We couldn’t recreate Pops’s festival.

I looked around Marigold Ranch again. The place was full of people who remembered him. People who remembered me. People who hadn’t demanded explanations for why I’d disappeared. They had simply waited until I opened the gate.

Something inside my chest softened. I wasn’t sure that my heart would ever truly heal from the worst year of my life, but I had hope that the grief would become bearable. And in moments like these, it was.

Rosie approached carrying her poster boards. “You look a little less murderous.” She smiled softly, probably hoping I didn’t lash out.

“It’s a lot to process, I’m doing my best.”

“And that’s okay Carson, that’s all we can strive for every day.” She handed me a page. At the top, it read: MARIGOLD RANCH HARVEST FESTIVAL — PRELIMINARY PLAN

I stared at the words, because now this was definitely real. “When are you announcing it?”

Rosie seemed to understand what I was really asking. “When you tell me I can.”

I looked at her in surprise, for once, she wasn’t pushing. I looked toward Meme. Even from the porch, I saw her expression. Hopeful. Pops would have made the decision for everybody. He would’ve thrown the sign up at the driveway before breakfast and told Willow Creek to deal with it.

But this wasn’t Pops’s festival anymore.

I looked down at Rosie’s plan. “Tomorrow would be okay.”

“Tomorrow, that soon?” Her brows lifted. “Are you sure?”

“Announce it tomorrow,” I said again, because the longer I thought about it, the more I wanted to run and hide. The mere thought of what was to come was overwhelming. She nodded, then wrapped one arm around me. The hug happened quickly enough that I didn’t have time to object.

“You won’t regret it,” she whispered.

“I might,” I countered, joking. She released me with a wink, and immediately walked away before I could change my mind. I watched her head toward Jax. He looked suspicious the second she approached, but I caught the way his hands twitched at his sides.

By late afternoon, cars began leaving one by one. The ranch grew quieter, my favorite kind of quiet.

June packed her empty bakery boxes. Darlene promised not to post anything until tomorrow, though I made her swear twice. Iris took several photographs of the oak tree for her story-hour planning. Walter loaded tools into his truck while Margaret made Meme promise they would have lunch next week, and Clover hugged me like we’d known each other ten years instead of several days. Her husband nodded at me from his truck like he too wasn’t a fan of too many nosey people.

Eventually, only the Jones brothers remained near the barn. Jax finished strapping tools into the truck bed while Beau lowered the ladder. I carried my clipboard toward them. My leg hurt more now, a dull throb that increased with every passing minute. I had stopped trying to hide it. Not because I suddenly didn’t care. Because I was exhausted.

Beau noticed, his eyes narrowing on my hips, but he didn’t say anything. It was like he knew something was wrong but that I wasn’t willing to announce to the world.

“The outlet list is on the first page,” he said when I stopped near him. “I’ll price the temporary setup tomorrow.”

“Okay, sounds good.”

“And I’ll price the wagon parts as well,” he added.

“Okay, thanks.”