Page 1 of Falling for Mr. October

CHAPTER ONE

BIANCA

If there’s any magic in Apple Ridge, it lives in the old bench atop the hill in Gallagher Park. It’s well over a century old but looks and feels as solid as if it had been built yesterday.

Legend has it if you throw seeds from that bench and make a wish, your wish will come true if any of the seeds sprout. After all, our town’s founder, Elliot Gallagher, threw an apple core from this very spot, and it grew into the first apple tree in Apple Ridge.

It would be just like the Gallaghers to dump their trash without a second thought, but everyone agrees it was for the best that Elliot was a litterbug, because we’re famous for our orchards. We may be smaller than Hendersonville to our north, but anyone who’s honest will attest that our apples are a damn sight better.

Of course, the story of the bench’s magic can’t be disproven, which is probably why it has been passed down for so many years.

Personally, I think it’s a crock of shit. But I need hope as much as the next person, which is why I’m here this evening. That, and because this is where I come to talk to Kitty.

When an Apple Ridge native dies, their family can purchase a memorial brick engraved with their loved one’s name and have it placed here in this park. Kitty’s brick is up here next to the bench she loved. I lean down and rub my fingertips over the rough surface of the brick that bears her name—Kitty Gallagher.

Yes, she was one of those Gallaghers, a great-great-grand-descendent of Elliot’s and the great-aunt of Rhett Gallagher, current mayor and part owner of this entire town.

I am not a Gallagher, even though I almost made the mistake of marrying Rhett. But Kitty was one of my patients when I was a hospice nurse, and she soaked into my heart and changed me. She’s been gone for nearly a year, but the wound of loss is still raw.

“I need something good to happen, Kitty,” I say softly. “Great-Uncle Ted’s with you now. Has been for about a month. His will stirred my brothers up something fierce. Everything’s falling apart. I need help bringing my family together. But I’m not like you. I’m not…”

Charming.

Kitty had possessed that rare ability to talk in a way that made people want to listen.

“Well, you know. And I don’t believe magic’s real.”

The only kind of magic I believe in is the everyday kind—the wonder of the leaves turning from green to red and orange and yellow. The way the world cycles through the seasons each year as if it’s falling asleep and waking again. That magic is about to wrap its arms around Apple Ridge.

I heave a sigh, feeling stupid as I pull a handful of zinnia seeds I pocketed from my brother’s shed and scatter them in front of me. My breath catches when a warm breeze practically snatches them from my hand. I watch with wonder as they skitter away.

“Is that puke I smell?” asks a familiar voice behind me, pulling me back to earth.

It’s my best friend Emily. I’d recognize her dry tone anywhere. I asked her to meet me up here, a short walk from her bookstore downtown, for a quick chat before I head home to my grandmother’s house.

I take a big sniff, and discover she’s right.

“I’m a mess,” I complain. “The Rotten Apple felt like the inner circle of hell today.”

That’s not the actual name for the retirement home I work at, but everyone in town uses it. Its actual name, the grandiose “A Room with a View” is an open joke, given none of the units have a pleasant view.

Emily circles the bench and sits beside me, leaning in close for a hug before she has second thoughts and scrunches her nose.

“I know. Believe me, I know. Don’t fuss, but Luanne threw up this morning. You know how she is. She says she has a toxic relationship with dairy.”

Emily pulls a face. “I suppose this isn’t a good time to tell you that I snuck ice cream in to her.”

Luanne isn’t any relation to Emily, but a few months back I started a buddy program, pairing up older people who don’t have much family with younger people willing to visit them regularly. The two of them hit it off immediately, bonding over their shared love for romance books and shows.

“So I have you to blame for the puke smell?”

“Will it help if I don’t complain about it anymore?”

I shrug, and Emily gives me a sidelong look.

“Any news about Miles?” she asks.

Miles is my twin. He took off from Apple Ridge five years ago, when we were twenty-four. He had his reasons for leaving, and I don’t blame him.