Chapter 2

Two

H enry

“You can’t post that here.”

The clipped voice takes me back. Oh boy, does it take me back. The memory of accepting a job bagging groceries at Grossman’s Market the day I was legally allowed to hold a job.

I turn around casually and pretend I’m talking to an old friend. “Norm. You still captain of this ship?” I hold out my hand to shake his.

His pencil mustache twitches. My old boss doesn’t like it that I used his favorite phrase from back in the day.

“I am,” he replies. I can see I have no chance of getting a smile out of him today.

I give him my twenty-second pitch. “Then, as a pillar of the local business community, Norm, you might have heard that I recently acquired a business permit to open a corn maze and pumpkin patch.”

He exhales impatiently, and he sounds like a bull.

“Well, the pumpkin patch opens for the public in a few days,” I continue. “I thought to myself, now, where would I be able to catch a lot of parents with kids looking for something to do during the autumn season? And I said, of course! The obvious answer to that would be the grocery store.”

Norm scoffs. “That your latest business scheme? Always the way with the Wood clan, isn’t it?”

His comment lumps me in with my late uncle Howie, who was known around town as the guy trying to make a quick buck. Never held down a job, but always asking his friends to invest in his latest get-rich-quick scheme. Until he had no friends left.

That the townsfolk associate me with him doesn’t bother me, though. It’s a small town, and that’s what folks do. They define people by the imperfect people who raised them.

“You might be a little confused, Norm. A corn maze and selling pumpkins is not going to make me rich unless I’m missing out on some secret society of billionaire pumpkin growers.”

Norm’s scowl becomes a sneer as he crosses his arms across his concave chest. He never liked my jokes as a teenager and that sure has not changed. “Smells like a tourist trap to me.”

Tourist traps are not illegal or even unethical by any measure, but I already know this argument is disingenuous on his part. Time to cut the crap.

“It’s not a new idea by any stretch. Look.” I pull out a slip of paper from my folder where I’m keeping my fliers. I have all my official paperwork with me because people around here tend to think they have a good reason to question the legitimacy of my business. “See, here’s my business license…” I unfold the official certificate from the state and the county, and for good measure, I show him my certification from the county agricultural extension office that shows I’ve completed courses and been inspected and certified as an official local producer.

“Now, come on, friend. Does that look like a get-rich-quick scheme to you?” I press.

His mustache goes up on the side with a smirk.

“OK, sure, but you still can’t post that. We’re competitors now. We sell pumpkins here.”

I’m almost at a loss. “Never in my life have I seen a man fight so hard against something as simple and pure as a pumpkin patch.” I know if I could just get the attention of local families, they’d be coming out in droves to pick pumpkins, wander through the corn maze, and take family photos on the straw bales—everything I loved about autumn when I was a kid.

I didn’t pick pumpkins with my uncle who raised me, but with my best friend Jet and his grandma, who used to take us to pumpkin patches every fall. We’d pick out one pitifully small pie pumpkin each, then indulge in free apple cider. Afterward, we’d go back to her house, where she would help us carve jack o’ lanterns, and she’d bake a small pie with the flesh that she’d cut away from inside the rinds. Those are some of the best of my childhood memories.

When I spoke with that nice lady at the state fair, she seemed very interested in a pumpkin patch, and just so happened to live nearby. She was cute, too. Really cute. No ring on her finger. Her name was Jane. Cute kid, too. I had hoped her restless toddler, Sarah, would hold out long enough for me to get her number, but when I returned from helping out my buddy Jet with some behind-the-scenes pageant drama, she was nowhere to be found. Disappointing, but understandable. Kids are unpredictable.

To my surprise, I learned later that Jane happens to be best friends with Jet’s girlfriend, Rocket. Rocket, however, refused to give me Jane’s number when I asked for it. “She needs space. She’s been hurt bad, and you need to let her come to you,” Rocket had said.

Imagine my delight when, in the middle of this ridiculous dispute over the grocery store bulletin board, Jane walks up with baby Sarah in her arms.

Jane’s face breaks into a huge smile at seeing me. I’m in heaven over the fact that she remembers me.

Her long brown hair falls in waves past her shoulders and she wears subtle mascara and a pretty pink hue on her full, glossy lips. When I’d met her at the fair, it was such a hot day that her hair was up in a messy topknot and she wore no makeup. Gorgeous both ways.

Today, Jane’s long, bohemian-style dress, tiny nose ring, and huge mom purse lend her an earthy vibe that I’m into. She carries Sarah in a soft, stretchy wrap thing attached to her body, and the kid squeals when she sees me.

“Henry from the state fair! Your cult following has finally caught up with you,” she says, patting Sarah’s head.

“Hey,” I say. “Wow. I…”

Now is not the best time to get tongue-tied.

Form a complete sentence any day now, Henry.

“How…how are you two? I mean, I’m sorry I missed you.”

“I’m great, thanks,” Jane replies, then slaps the meat of her palm against her forehead as if just remembering something. “I’m so sorry I left the fair so quickly.” Her nose crinkles and she closes her eyes as if embarrassed, but she has nothing to apologize for. Her expression is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.

She turns to the grocery store manager. “Anyway, what’s going on? I’m sorry for interrupting.”

Norm flares his nostrils. “You didn’t interrupt anything.”

Jane’s befuddled face turns back to me with a questioning expression.

I explain my current troubles with hanging fliers, while Norm sighs.

On the rare moments when the universe decides to intervene on my behalf, it can’t possibly do any better than the adorable duo of Jane and Sarah.