Page 76 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

“We’re ready.”

I looked toward her. Her eyes were brighter than they had been when we arrived. That decided more than the folder had.

I turned toward Beau. “I’m not saying yes.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“I mean it.” I pointed at his chest, scared that if he kept explaining all the ways this could be possible, I’d cave.

“I know,” he whispered.

“Clover thinks I’m coming around.”

He shook his head with a small grin. “Clover also thinks Christmas starts in October.”

“You mean September.”

“See? Worse.”

That pulled a laugh from me before I could stop it. Meme looked between us and I immediately stopped. Her mouth curved into a knowing grin.

“Don’t you start.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Everyone in this town needs a new phrase.”

Margaret laughed softly as we stepped outside. Main Street had grown darker while we were inside. Which meant the orange lights seemed brighter now, reflecting off windows painted with pumpkins and ghosts. Music drifted from Rosie’s open tavern door. Somewhere farther down the street, children laughed as someone tested a mechanical witch display that cackled every thirty seconds.

Meme stopped at the bottom of the steps. For a long moment, she simply looked.

“What?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Meme.”

“I forgot how pretty it gets.”

My chest tightened.

I looked at Willow Creek through her eyes. Not mine. Not as the place that kept celebrating after Pops died. Not as the town I avoided because every familiar face carried a memory.

Just Willow Creek. Warm lights. Old storefronts. People who knew us. People who still wanted Marigold Ranch to be part of something.

Maybe that was what scared me most. Somewhere along the last five years, I had convinced myself I didn’t need any of it.

Tonight was the first time I wondered if that had ever been true.

I helped Meme into the Camry. Before climbing behind the wheel, I looked back toward town hall. Beau stood near the entrance beside Walter and Jax. Clover was talking with both hands while Hunter held the empty bakery boxes against his side.

They looked exactly like what they were.

Family.

Loud.

Complicated.