Page 166 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

Lights wrapped the fence line.

Another.

The wagon path came alive. Strings of amber bulbs stretched between posts, leading from the main field toward the pasture where the hayrides would turn around.

Carson flipped the last switch. For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

Marigold Ranch glowed.

The last of the sunset still burned behind the trees, streaking the sky in orange and pink, while hundreds of tiny lights stretched across the property beneath it.

Pumpkins sat along the barn.

The freshly repaired fences caught the light.

The old tractor Dad had gotten running that afternoon sat beside the wagon like it had been waiting five years for someone to remember it.

Carson stepped away from the panel. I watched her face instead of the ranch. Her eyes moved slowly across everything as a tirade of emotions swarmed her expression.

I didn’t ask if she was okay. I had learned better. She walked toward the center of the yard. I followed a few feet behind.

“My Pops would’ve hated those.” She pointed toward the lights around the barn.

“Why?”

“Too straight.”

I laughed.

“I’m serious,” she said firmly, though her lips smiled. “He’d say it looked too professional.”

“That’s a complaint?”

“For Pops? Absolutely.” She moved toward the fence. “He used to hang them himself and every year Meme would tell him they were crooked.”

“Did he fix them?”

“No. He’d add more. One year there were so many lights on that barn that he blew power to the house.” A large smile touched her mouth.

I didn’t say anything else. Carson had spent enough of her life surrounded by people trying to fill silence for her.

I was beginning to understand she usually needed the opposite.

We stood there while the sun disappeared. The orange lights became brighter as the sky darkened. For the first time since I’d started coming out here, Marigold didn’t look like a ranch fighting to survive—it looked like somewhere people would want to be. Somewhere children would remember. Somewhere families would come back next year.

Carson exhaled slowly. “I thought this would hurt more.”

I looked toward her as she rubbed her palms over her arms.

“Seeing it like this…” After a moment, she bumped her shoulder against mine. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“Today.” She kicked the dirt at her feet, looking away from me nervously.

“You fed me. We’re even.”

“You’re never letting that go, are you?”