Page 39 of Penalties and Proposals

But, as I’m learning on this trip, life has other plans and I’m here for them.

“Willa,” he says, opening his eyes and staring at me, “we’ve already had a call from some woman claiming this.”

I know the confused look that makes its way across my face has to be distracting for Frank. Squinting my eyes, I lean forward. “And you’re still offering me the job?”

A huge grin breaks across his face, making Frank look softer than he ever has. “As long as you’re not doing investigative journalism, I’m fine with it. I mean, I don’t want or need our employees causing chaos when they’re out on assignment, but who you date and spend time with is your business. Not ours. Okay? We good?”

Again, my jaw goes slack, only this time I’m prepared and I clench my jaw closed.

“We’re good,” I squeak. Catching myself, I tilt my chin up and sit taller, moving in closer to the camera. “We’re more thangood. In fact, I’d like to hear about this offer fromAthletic Edge. I’ve set aside time for us. Feel like talking further?”

He claps his hands together. “Let’s dig in!”

The farmers’ market is crowded this morning, bustling and buzzing with locals and tourists alike. People file past me, snug in their winter coats and layers, but mostly there is a sea of Ice Breakers jerseys and swag flowing.

I weave my way through the crowd, the crunch of fallen leaves underfoot harmonizing with the murmur of cheerful conversations and the occasional burst of laughter. Stalls brim with the vibrant colors of the season. Piles of shiny red apples, bumpy orange squash, and deep purple eggplants are artfully arranged, creating a picturesque display of nature’s bounty. I feel like I’m in the middle of a film set, it’s that pristine.

There’s a scent in the air that reminds me of Noah, making me pause. Casting a glance at one of the stalls nearby, I spot a sign touting the best apple cider in all of Maple Falls. I can’t help but stop at a stand where a farmer is offering samples, my thoughts returning to our trip to Maple Fest and the highs and lows of the day.

The spicy, cinnamon-infused drink warms me from the inside out, perfectly complementing the chill in the air. There’s a table beside this stall piled with tea towels; someone’s gotten creative and put the town motto on them—Maple Falls: You’ll never want to leave—surrounded by a wreath of maple leaves and they’ve added two tiny crossed hockey sticks at the bottom,too. It’s super cute and, like the cider, does nothing but remind me of Noah.

So I bought three of them. One for me, one for my mom, and one to give to Harlow, who I’d spoken to the other day. She could use this to make her smile.

A few steps away, a baker’s table is laden with rustic loaves of bread and pastries, their golden crusts beckoning. I snag a warm croissant, its flaky exterior giving way to a buttery, melt-in-your-mouth center. This is when I need to—how did Shirley May put it?—feed my feelings. I also swipe an apple fritter and a cinnamon roll with maple glaze, only to spot someone holding a very familiar piece of what I consider to be cake in their hands beside me.

“Where’d you get that?” I ask, pointing at the woman’s plate.

The blonde woman turns to me, her gray-blue eyes flashing bright. “Over there,” she says, indicating a table a few stalls away from us. “By the flower vendor. They’re a guest vendor for the next few weeks. The local women’s junior hockey league is fundraising.”

“Thanks. I thought I recognized Charlie’s caramel banana bread,” I say with a smile, taking a bite of my apple fritter. My emotions need the carbs.

“You know Charlie?” she asks.

“We met recently,” I say, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Man, I feel like an animal. This fritter is about to be gone, but at least I have a donut to tide me over until I get some of Charlie’s cake. “She seems to have quite the reputation as a mover and shaker around here.”

“To be sure!” The woman giggles. “I’m Keira. I run the farmers’ market, so it’s my job to know who everyone is and why they’re here.”

As I watch her I get a feeling we’ve met before only to realize she’s the same person I saw exiting the bookstore the other day, saying goodbye to the girl behind the counter. Small towns … am I right?

“Nice to meet you.” Looking at the bag in my hands, I decide to stop force-feeding myself sugar for comfort and tuck the rest of my treats into my bag. I give her a nod of gratitude and jog over to the table, grinning when I find Charlie and her mother, Sarah, manning it.

“Willa,” Charlie calls out as she runs around the table and gives me a big hug. “Are you here for more of my caramel banana bread?”

I point to a whole loaf. “I’d like the whole thing, please.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she says, blushing.

“I want to.” I watch while she wraps it up, waving to Sarah. “How are you?”

She leans on the table, sipping a hot drink from a travel mug. “It’s been busy. Between raising funds for the team, to dealing with someone who is about to go on her first date.”

“Mom.” Charlie groans, turning red with embarrassment as she rolls her eyes.

“Well, you are.” Sarah chuckles, throwing a wink my way. “He’s also approved by the parents.”

“Wow,” I concur, taking my parcel and handing Charlie some cash. “What did he do to win all of you over?”

Charlie shoves her hands in her jacket pockets. “Billy told everyone he liked me for a long time, but he was always getting into trouble. So I never paid him any attention,” she whispers, looking around us to make sure no one else can hear. “Then, he started showing up at our practices. He said he was volunteering because he wanted to ‘maybe’ play ice hockey himself.”

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