Page 30 of The Friendly Fall

I let out a chuckle. “Whatever you say, Mom.”

But if you are, please let it work.

“You’re late this evening,” Eliza says with a frown as I climb out of my truck. I’m surprised to see her standing on the porch, camera in hand, as if she waswaitingfor me to show up. As surprising as it is, I kind oflikethe way she’s concerned about me being late.

“I was just finishing up the float for the parade this Saturday.”

“Oh? Is the parade for that gourd festival thing?”

I laugh. “Pumpkin Festival, but yeah. The parade is a big deal.”

“Ah. Youwouldhelp with the float.”

I narrow my eyes at her as I start unloading my tools. “Why do you say that?”

“Because since the moment I met you, you’re literallyalwayshelping someone.” She plops down, folding her legs crisscross. It’s cute, especially in her faded blue jeans and flannel. She even has a little bandana tied up in her messy hair.

“I like the thing in your hair.”

“What?” She gives me a funny look, and I gesture to the top of her head.

“The bandana … tie … thing,” I clarify, still sounding like an idiot.

“Oh, right.” She laughs. “Thanks. I’m experimenting with casual styles. I kind of like the fact that I don’t have to dress up every day anymore.”

“Oh yeah? What did you do back in Chicago?” I lean against a rake, knowing that I’m burning daylight…

But I don’t care.

“I worked in marketing for a big tech company,” she begins, before letting out a sigh. “It wasn’t a great job by any means, but it did pay pretty well. I was let go.”

“That’s rough, I’m sorry,” I say, reading her downtrodden face.

“It’s okay,” she dismisses me, smiling again. “Honestly, hindsight is twenty-twenty, and I think, in the long run, I’ll be happier that it didn’t work out.”

“Good, now you can become a renowned photographer. Which soundswaymore fun than trying to market technology.”

She giggles. “Yeah, sure. We’ll see. Me and my fifty Instagram followers have alongway to go.”

“Well, everyone’s gotta start somewhere. And my mom seems to think you’re really good.”

The blush on her cheeks sends my heart racing. “Oh my goodness, did she actually say something to you about the photos?”

“Yeah, she did.” I start to rake up the leaves. “Apparently, she wants to print some of them, too. She can be a little overwhelming sometimes.”

“My mom can be like that, too,” Eliza remarks, leaning back on her hands. “I’m convinced that’s the way all good moms are, though. It just means they care.”

I lift my eyes up to hers, wondering ifshewants to be a mom someday. I bite back the question. I don’t want to be weird. “That’s probably true.”

“If I was a mom, I’d totally have a million pictures of my kids,” Eliza continues, answering my question without me having to ask. “Heck, I’d be setting up cute little photoshoots, and then using them as little models.”

I shoot a smirk at her. “Exploiting your children for money, I see.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, whatever you say.”

I chuckle. “If you ever need anything built for your photography sets, I could help,” I offer before I can think it through.

I half expect her to shoot it down immediately, but instead, her face lights up.

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