Page 94 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

I looked toward Beau who seemed to notice everything. “Old tickets.” He walked over and I held one out for him to look at. “Fifty cents, can you believe it?”

He studied it before smirking. “Expensive if you ask me.”

“It was apple cider.”

“Still.”

I put the ticket back into the bucket I said something I shouldn’t. That seemed to happen with Beau, he was easy to banter with because he constantly annoyed me.

“Let’s see what these look like.” He walked toward the nearest hay wagon. The first one wasn’t terrible. According to Beau. To me it looked like an old wagon. He checked the hitch, crawled beneath the frame, tested sections of the wood, and made several notes in his phone.

“Axle needs attention.”

“How much attention?”

“Enough that I wouldn’t put thirty children on it tomorrow.”

“So you’re saying twenty-nine?”

He looked out from beneath the wagon, staring me down in disbelief at the lame attempt at a joke. “No.”

“How about twenty?”

“Carson, are you serious?”

“I’m asking for professional guidance.”

“Zero children.”

“Well then.”

He disappeared beneath it again, so I wandered toward the second wagon. This one had always been my favorite. Pops had built wooden benches along the inside and painted little marigolds along the side panels because Meme complained that the burgundy looked depressing. Most of them had faded…but one remained near the rear wheel. I crouched and rubbed my thumb over the outline.

Pops had painted that flower poorly, and Meme had teased him for weeks. I had forgotten all about that moment. I hated how many memories worked like that. Perfectly accessible once something unlocked them, yet somehow gone until then.

“Carson.”

I looked up in surprise as Beau pulled me from the long-forgotten memory. I hadn’t even heard him come out from underneath the first wagon. I cleared my throat.

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

I lowered my hand from the flower. “I’m fine.”

His gaze went to the painted flower, but he didn’t say anything else. A small characteristic I actually liked about the man. There were certain kinds of people who couldn’t leave grief alone when they spotted it. They wanted to touch it, ask uncomfortable questions, and offer comfort when silence was enough.

But… Beau seemed to understand that sometimes noticing was enough. He moved to the second wagon.

“What do you actually think?” I asked.

“About?”

“All of it.” I gestured around us. “If the town wanted this ready for October.”

He looked across the barn again. “Depends how much you want to use.”

“All of it?”