Page 11 of Love and Pumpkins
Thirty minutes later, I set out my last bar of soap and check the time. Twenty minutes before customers are due to arrive. Perfect.
I sneak a peek over at Hunter’s booth. He’s sitting in the folding chair with his legs propped up on a large cooler. He’s watching me.
“Enjoying the view?” I quip.
“Yep,” he answers. “Did you see Mrs. Johnson’s sign? With the two pies talking on phones?”
So, he’s going to pretend I wasn’t in the view? Fine.
“Of course. I think my cousin Glenn painted it.” It was Glenn or Jackson, pretty sure of that. They’re both talented artists.
“Right. Didn’t he paint the mural in the high school gym?”
“I think it was Glenn, Jackson, and another person,” I reply. “It’s still there.”
Hunter probably doesn’t know that—I’ve never seen him at a volleyball match or basketball game. I go frequently. It is the local entertainment.
“Wow. Still there?”
“You should try to get out there for a game while you’re home. I have all the sports schedules on my phone.”
He grins. “I’ll think about it.”
Does he think I’m a nerd for keeping up with school activities? “Ready for a bustling day? With it being Saturday and cooler temps, I think we’re going to be busy bees!”
I want to squeal. If we have two more great days, I might make enough to have the furnace repaired before it’s needed. That would be almost as good as pumpkin pie on turkey day!
“You seem excited about that?” Hunter’s statement sounds like a question.
I look away; I don’t want him to see the desperation in my eyes. “I’m not here to watch the passersby.”
“But these are your neighbors, your friends and family. I would’ve thought you’d love chatting up everyone.” Hunter stands and steps closer. Where are the customers? I need their distraction. Hunter’s making me think about things I shouldn’t be thinking about, like how I wish he wasn’t going back to Chicago. Sure, he’s staying through the week, but he’ll be too busy with work and helping his mom. I probably won’t see him after Sunday.
I wouldn’t have guessed that I wanted that before yesterday, but I would like to spend more time with Hunter and get to know who he is now. What’s happened in his life to make him who he is today?
“I love visiting them.” My arms rise to emphasize my point. “However, I live here, and I see them all the time.”
But I don’t see you all the time, and I don’t need to get enamored with you.
He leans over my table, resting his hands on it. “The benefits of staying close to home. Did you move back right after college?”
He doesn’t know my story? Doesn’t he keep in touch with someone who will give him the local gossip? Does he even talk to his sister?
“No. I moved to St. Louis after college, stayed there a couple of years, but my grandma Birdie got sick, and I wanted to move home to help.”
“That’s sweet.” His eyebrows pinch together in the middle. “Did she get better?”
“Yes, she’s moved into the big house. She can’t live alone anymore.”
“The big house?”
I laugh. “Yes. Uncle Jim and Aunt Dana’s house. The farmhouse. We call it the big house.”
“Wow, I haven’t been out there for ages. I worked at some of their special events in high school.”
“I remember. We both worked the tulip festival concessions during our senior year.”
“Right!” he says. “We had to put on those crazy Dutch costumes with the wooden shoes.”
