Page 65 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

Clover placed the bakery boxes on the food table. “I told you,” she whispered. Jax looked at me. I shrugged and sat down. There was no winning this argument.

The room filled quickly.

June Whitaker arrived with flour on one sleeve despite apparently coming straight from home. Iris Bennett from the bookshop carried a notebook that looked older than half the people present. Darlene moved between tables as if she had been elected to a position nobody remembered voting on.

The strange thing was how natural it all felt.

Everybody knew where to sit. Everybody knew what they had handled last year. Everybody arrived already arguing about this year… Dad was right. Willow Creek didn’t just celebrate Halloween. It organized around it.

I found myself looking toward the doors.

Once.

Then again.

Carson had said no. But Meme had texted her, so Clover seemed convinced they would show up.

Seven o’clock came. Rosie clapped her hands.

“All right, animals. Sit. Time to begin.”

The conversations continued. She picked up a metal spoon and struck it against an empty cider pot. The room erupted in complaints.

“Thank you,” Rosie said. Everyone settled. “First order of business—last year’s festival was a logistical nightmare.”

Someone near the back called, “You said it went perfectly.”

“I lied publicly.”

That earned laughter as Rosie turned toward the whiteboard.

“The park is officially out.” She crossed the location off with a red marker while a chorus of groans moved through the room. “The drainage repairs aren’t finished, so the town won’t issue the temporary event permit because the field is still considered unstable.”

June raised a hand. “What about the fairgrounds?”

“Booked.”

“School?”

“Football.”

“Church lot?”

“Reverend Paul said not after what happened with the cider truck.”

Nobody elaborated. I looked to Jax, and he shrugged one shoulder. I decided I didn’t want to know.

“So!” Rosie tapped the marker against the board. Loudly. “We need a location.”

Darlene spoke from the far side of the room. “We all know where it belongs.”

Marigold Ranch.

Nobody needed to say it, a chill swept through the room as grief hovered like a dark lingering cloud over everyone. No one said a word as we remembered James Rome and the festival he used to love hosting.

Then, the town hall doors opened. Every head turned. Carson stood in the doorway beside Evelyn Rome. For a second, she looked like she might leave. Her blonde hair fell loose around her shoulders tonight. Dark jeans tucked into boots. Long-sleeved cream sweater. Nothing elaborate.

Still, the room seemed smaller once she entered. Maybe because everyone knew exactly what her presence meant. Evelyn held her arm as Carson’s eyes moved across the room. They reached mine and paused before moving on.