Page 98 of Once Upon a Fall

He grabs his toolbox and starts toward the door, but then stops.

“Hey,” he says, looking out the window. “Thanks. For helping her out this month.”

I shrug. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“It was to her.”

That lands harder than it should.

“She needed help. I had time,” I tell him.

“Right,” he says. “Well. Thanks anyway.”

I spend the rest of the afternoon at the farm, looking through the rest of the kitchen, and find a couple of things—my grandma’s recipe box and a pocket knife my grandpa used to keep in his pocket. The knife goes in the save pile, and I bring the recipe box back with me.

Because I ran out of time to make dinner, I stop by the market and get tomato soup, a couple of kinds of cheese, and some crusty bread.

“This is the best grilled cheese I’ve ever had,” an exhausted Rosie says, sitting at the island.

“I doubt that,” I say.

“No, seriously, it’s so good.” She takes another bite of the soup and makes a satisfied humming sound.

“How was Pumpkin Day?”

“Long,” she says, and then yawns. “The FFA students won the pumpkin weigh-in against Farmer Joe. It was a big . . . thing.”

She trails off at the end, and I look over to find Rosie asleep with her head in one hand and the other holding the spoon.

“Rosie?”

“Huh?” She shakes herself awake.

“You fell asleep there for a second.”

“I didn’t,” she says. “I was just thinking about something.”

“You were snoring.”

Her eyes widen. “I was not,” she says, but then she laughs when she sees that I’m teasing.

“Maybe you should go to bed.”

“I can’t. I still need to get the parade numbers together, print the talent show sheets, and make sure all the lawn-game stuff is actually where it’s supposed to be.”

“Can I help with anything?” I ask her.

“No,” she says, reaching over and patting my knee. “You made me dinner. That was helpful enough.”

She takes another bite of soup and then takes off once again.

On Thursday, I never see Rosie once.

I spend the morning at the inn, making sure everything is going okay and that there are no more breaking beds. I give Willa my number and tell her to call me if there’s a problem, so she doesn’t bother Rosie.

The rest of the day is spent at the farm, going through each room and putting the things I want to keep in the save pile to take with me. It’s strange dismantling the place I used to cry about leaving every summer.

A box of pictures from my grandpa’s closet goes into the pile, and I take the other family photos out of the frames hanging on the walls and keep those too.