Page 77 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

Present.

I got into the car before I could stare any longer.

Meme buckled her seat belt. “You’re thinking again.”

“I do that sometimes.”

“Dangerous habit.”

I started the engine. “We’re not hosting the festival.”

“All right.”

“You sound like Rosie.”

“I’ve known Rosie since she was born. Maybe she sounds like me.”

“Meme.”

She adjusted the strap of her purse. “Drive, baby girl.”

I pulled away from the curb. At the first red light, my phone buzzed inside the cupholder, and I glanced down. A message from Rosie.

Rosie: I emailed you the detailed revenue numbers. No pressure.

A second message appeared.

Rosie: Okay, some pressure. But tasteful pressure.

I groaned.

Meme looked over. “Rosie?”

“Yes.”

“She’s persistent, isn’t she.”

The light changed. I drove toward Marigold Ranch with Willow Creek glowing behind us. I told myself I was going home to sleep on it. Not consider it. Not plan.

Definitely not picture pumpkins lining the ranch driveway again.

But by the time we reached the county road, I had already started wondering how many cars the north pasture could hold.

Chapter

Ten

BEAU

I had lived in my house for almost four years, and there were still two cardboard boxes sitting in the corner of my spare bedroom. I knew what was inside them.

Pictures.

A couple of trophies from high school.

Books I’d probably never read again.

An old blanket Mom had made me when I moved out of their house.