Page 68 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

I looked toward Meme. She was already walking in that direction like the traitor she was. Margaret stood immediately and hugged Meme before either woman said a word. She had aged beautifully. Her blonde hair was lighter than I remembered, silver beginning around the temples, and she wore a soft cream cardigan over dark slacks. She smelled faintly of vanilla and whatever she had baked earlier in the day.

“Oh, Evelyn,” she whispered. Meme held onto her longer than I expected. When they finally separated, Margaret said, “I should’ve called more.”

“We both should’ve called.”

“You know how that goes.”

Meme nodded. Unfortunately, I did too.

Grief made people promise to stay close. Life made them forget.

Walter rose next. He didn’t hug Meme immediately. He looked at her first. Probably seeing past the bullshit because he had known my grandmother for years, hell he probably knew her better than me. Then his expression softened all at once.

“Evie.”

Meme’s mouth trembled. “Walt.” Her broken voice was somehow worse than his.

He set the thermos aside and folded her into his arms.

Meme laughed quietly against his shoulder. “Are you still carrying that ridiculous thing?”

“Coffee keeps me alive.”

“You’re seventy years old.”

“I’m sixty-eight.”

“Same thing.”

Walter released her. “I missed you too.”

I looked away before either of them caught me becoming emotional over two stubborn old people arguing about coffee, and Clover saved me by shoving something soft into my hand.

I looked down, brows furrowed. “What is this?”

“Emotional support.”

I turned the soft bread over to read the label. Pumpkin. “I didn’t ask for emotional support.” Though, it was a welcome distraction.

“Nobody does.” She shrugged and took a step back from me with a small smile, like she knew more than she let on.

Hunter leaned slightly toward me. “It’s easier to accept it.”

“See?” Clover turned toward him. “This is why I married him.”

Hunter’s expression barely changed. “I thought it was because you refused to stop bringing cookies to my house.”

“That too.”

Their exchange was quiet enough that nobody outside our table heard it.

I understood immediately why Clover had been the person to reach Hunter when the rest of Willow Creek apparently hadn’t known how.

I bit into the pumpkin bread. It was annoyingly good. “June?”

Clover looked offended. “Actually my own recipe.”

“Wow, it's amazing.” I swallowed, slightly embarrassed. I hadn't thought that Clover would also be baking since she worked at the bakery. Clover smiled and nodded in appreciation at the compliment, but it was Hunter who seemed the most pleased with my small compliment.