Page 59 of The Pumpkin Spice Spell
Lilith’s voice softens, not gentle, but final. “You sell your house, get your money, and then you leave. But if you’re notgoing to treat him right, or put in any effort, then leave himalone.He deserves better.”
April doesn’t say a word. She pivots on her heel and walks away, calling for her kids. Randy follows, face unreadable.
And just like that, the storm moves on.
My mom lays a hand on Tate’s arm and goes back to her table, giving him a minute.
I turn toward Tate. His eyes are locked on the sidewalk, jaw tight. He looks like he’s holding it all in by sheer will.
I touch his hand, gentle. “Hey.” He lifts his gaze to mine. And I see it there. The grief and hurt. But also, gratitude. Relief. The kind of relief when someone finally sees you.
“I didn’t need you guys to do that,” he murmurs.
“I know,” I whisper. “But we did it anyway. It’s what we do for the people that we care about.”
He lets out a slow breath.
Then he smiles. Just a little.
And somehow, it feels like everything is going to be all right.
Chapter 18
Tate
Ipull into the gravel lot just before eight, tires crunching slowly as the fog lifts over the Bennett Tree Farm. The air smells like pine needles and damp earth. I'm nervous but excited to be here. Fishing, I know, but I know nothing about trees. I do love working outside, though, and I love that feeling when you put in a long day and feel exhausted. Looks like I can get that working here.
Remy’s place sits fifteen minutes outside of town and looks like a damn postcard.Not the cheesy kind, but the kind you keep in a drawer even after the holidays are long over. Like the Hallmark movies that people love this time of year. This place could double as a filming location.
Acres of perfectly spaced evergreens stretch across the land like an army of green, their branches dusted with early frost. Wreaths hang from old wooden posts, waiting to be bought and either shipped or brought home and fluffed. What looks like a freshly painted red and white barn stands proudly at the end of the parking lot, its roof lined with string lights that haven’t been plugged in yet but still manage to shimmer in the early morning sun.
This is it. This is where Christmas lives. I can see why Remy stays so busy. This place is magical. It's also a huge operation, so it makes sense that he needs more help.
I spot him halfway down one aisle of firs, already deep in work, gloves on, saw over one shoulder, and a scowl like the trees offended him. He’s all business. Grumpy and stoic like he would rather eat nails than ask for help.
So I get why asking me was a big deal; he must mean it. And I'd never let Remy down. He and Finn have always been like brothers to me. We’ve been friends since elementary school.
He straightens when he sees me, brushing pine needles off his flannel and offering a tired but genuine smile that saysThank God you showed up,even if he doesn’t put it into so many words.
“Tate,” he says, exhaling like he’s relieved to see me. “Man, I’m so damn glad you’re here.”
I grin. “You sound surprised.”
“I thought you might change your mind and run for the seas,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder. “But you didn’t. And I seriously owe you one. Or ten.”
“Don’t get sappy on me yet,” I tease, falling into step beside him. “We haven’t even made it past the first day. You might give me the boot when you realize I know nothing about trees.”
He laughs, the sound low and honest.
“You weren’t kidding when you said this place was big,” I add, glancing over the rows of evergreens stretching toward the horizon.
He nods, eyes scanning the land like it’s both a blessing and a burden. “Yeah. It’s beautiful. And totally kicking my ass.”
“Well,” I say, rolling up my sleeves. “Let’s get our asses kicked together. Tell me about it.”
“We sit on about thirty acres. Fifteen in trees, ten in nursery stock. The rest are barns, prep sheds, and loading zones. Cabinsare up that way.” He juts his chin toward the lane. “Got a little farm stand shop we have year-round. Donna’s idea. People like their snacks while they wander. It's becoming a family tradition to come here. Some people come up here every weekend just to get a couple of dozen cider donuts.”
I raise an eyebrow. “That sounds good.”
