Chapter 3

Three

J ane

Does this grocery store manager not understand that a corn maze and a pumpkin patch for kids is good for the whole community?

Moms all over the countryside, desperate for fun activities for their kids, will bring their loaded minivans from miles around. It’s a boost to the economy for sure. And, it doesn’t hurt that this pumpkin patch is owned by the sexiest person I’ve met in this town.

Judging by Norm’s pocket protector and obstinate expression, I’d say no, he does not understand.

I say to the manager, “I was just thinking, this town needs more things for families. You should let him post this flier. After all, people do depend on their local grocery store for a sense of community in a town so small.” I’m really hamming it up now, but it’s working. “If I can’t depend on my local grocery store to have a reasonably well-rounded bulletin board, we may as well be shopping at a big box store on the edge of town am I right?”

The manager shifts his weight from one foot to the other, grumbles something about having to check on a tomato delivery, and leaves. I can’t imagine a dumber thing for a person to worry about than who is posting what on the bulletin board for his customers.

After the pinched-faced man in the headset stalks off, I turn to Henry. “What was that all about?” I ask.

Now that the negative energy has gone away, I quietly suck in a cleansing breath. Wow, Henry is nice to look at. Damn. The whole flannel-shirt-and-henley combo really works for those shoulders of his. God, I’m a thirsty bish.

Henry shrugs. “Oh, didn’t you hear? People don’t like me.”

I laugh because that’s a ridiculous idea. “What terrible things have you done to ward Sarah and me away from your pumpkin patch?”

Hearing her name, my toddler squirms in my arms, making me regret following the rule that dictates shoppers should not allow children to ride inside of grocery carts. She’s getting big for this wrap, even if the manufacturer’s guidelines say it’s meant to accommodate children much heavier than her. Whoever made these stretchy wraps did not consider the wiggle factor.

Expecting Henry to laugh and brush off the silly idea that he’s done something to earn the status of town pariah, I’m surprised when he answers with, “It’s a long story. I’m sure you’ll hear it from someone around town eventually.”

I don’t know him well, but I do know one thing. Henry helped keep my Sarah entertained at the state fair. If it weren’t for him making my toddler laugh and buying her fair food and briefly running off to win her a stuffed unicorn, that day would have ended much earlier for us with a major toddler meltdown.

I wince when I see he’s not kidding around about supposed rumors about himself. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up something painful,” I say.

He shakes it off and changes the subject when he sees my job application in the cart, mingling with my small haul of groceries. “Looking for a job?”

I nod. “There’s not much for me to do here, and I’m hardly qualified to work retail but…” I start to explain, but he cuts me off with a surprise proposition.

“If you want a job at the pumpkin patch, it pays better than Norm. It’s seasonal, but you can start tomorrow and…uhm…there’s always lots to do year-round.”

The pink flush in his cheeks tells me the year-round part is a lie. And also, I doubt a locally owned pumpkin patch and corn maze would pay better than the grocery store, but something tells me he just doesn’t want me working here.

Well, I’m not above a little pettiness against negative people now and then. So far, I like Henry better than most people I’ve met here, even if he does have a supposed scandal hanging over him.

Also, I’m desperate for a job. I’ve already dipped into my savings to pay first and last months’ rent plus deposit on an apartment here, and I’d like to replenish that as soon as possible. A job that starts tomorrow is better than slogging through an application and interview process.

Henry’s kind face, scruffy chin, and crinkly eyes do make the idea more appealing, that’s for sure. As unethical as it might be to date one’s employer, that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy some eye candy while I’m…

“Wait,” I say. “What will I be doing, exactly?”

He flashes a congenial, laid-back smile and describes all the duties involved. It sounds like a little bit more physical labor than what I was expecting, but I’m up for a challenge.

“I’ll do it,” I say. “I’d love to be under you. Work under you. I mean…yay, I have a job!” And now, I’m redder than a cooked lobster.

I’m so happy I have a job that I feel compelled to hug him, which is ill-advised. But not because he doesn’t want a hug. He opens his arms to me when I bring it in. But unfortunately, the two of us clunk our heads together. as a result of trying not to squish Sarah in the process.

“Ow,” I say, laughing.

“Oof,” he says, reaching out to touch my head but then stopping short of it. “Are you OK?”

Sarah laughs at both of us.

“I’m fine. You?”

He smiles down at me. “I’m perfect,” he says.

Henry hands me a flyer with the address and phone number, and we agree on a time for me to start my duties in the morning. Sarah grabs the paper and immediately tries to bite it. “Sarah, no-no!” I say, gently retrieving the paper from between her chompers.

“Huh. I think I’ll take this, too,” Henry says, pulling a tab from another flier advertising a pumpkin growing contest. “I bet Big Daddy’s got a chance of winning.”

My new boss walks me and Sarah to my car, and I ask about whatever Big Daddy is, and he tells me all about his 600-pound pumpkin. Evidently, it takes years of soil amending and seed experimentation to grow something that big. “I got a little obsessed with the idea of trying to grow a really big one,” he says, and I have to work hard to keep the smirk to myself. Oh, the places my mind goes with that comment.

Henry loads my groceries in the trunk for me without my asking, but I’m not going to argue. Then, he simply stands there, looking around, like he’s watching for other people.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” I say, watching him, curious to see if he’s going to leave voluntarily or if I might have to back over him with my car.

He nods. “Sure thing. I’m just going to…wait here until you’re safely in your car with the doors locked if you don’t mind.”

I cock my head. “Is there a serial killer on the loose in this town or what?”

He shakes his head and chuckles. “No. I just…well…I don’t know why I’m doing it. It’s silly, I guess.” He rubs the meat of his palm against his sternum, appearing to feel mystified by his actions.

Moments later I’m strapping Sarah into her car seat, both she and I wearing dopey grins on our faces. “No-no,” Sarah says, wagging her finger at me, apropos of nothing. I sigh heavily as I buckle myself in, lock the doors, and start up my beater of a car, then wave goodbye to Henry. I watch him walk away with the gait of a chilled-out man who is in no hurry.

“I know, Sarah. I know. Dating my boss is a no-no,” I whimper.

Checking my phone, I’m happy to see I’ve got a text from Rocket. But what she has to say chills me to the bone. Carl left me a voicemail. He didn’t sound threatening. Just wanted to know if I know where you are. Don’t worry, I’m not calling him back.

I shake my head and think, That guy better watch out if he’s going to start harassing Rocket. Jet will knock Carl’s soft ass into the dirt without breaking a sweat.

I hate that my friends are involved in my drama now. But I’m also grateful for it.

“You shouldn’t go there.”

My neighbor at the crappy apartment complex has decided to give me unsolicited career advice on the morning of my first day of work.

Helen, who lives in 1B, launches into a whole story about Henry Wood’s uncle as soon as I mentioned I was going to work at the Wood’s Pumpkin Patch.

“You know what they did to this town, don’t you?”

“I have no idea, Helen,” I say, sipping my Diet Coke while Sarah tugs me to the car. I’ve given up on the wrap; the girl needs to move those legs. “Auntie. House.” Ever since I told Sarah that Rocket would be watching her today while I went to work, she’s been campaigning to leave immediately.

Ordinarily, I love a toddler-adjacent excuse to stop talking to negative people, but I’m intrigued. I’m about to find out what a terrible person Henry is.

“Just a minute, Sarah.”

My little one continues to tug and squeal. Judging by her urgency, I have about two minutes before the screaming begins.

“Well. His uncle Howie scammed everyone in town. Got everyone to believe in his scheme to build a nonprofit children’s museum. Said it would have a rainforest, and teach about climate change, and be the only one like it in the whole country.”

“Wow,” I say, impressed. “Ambitious.”

She’s on a roll now, spilling all the tea. “He had blueprints, he had a developer come and speak to the town. The town voted on a special sales tax to support it because it was supposed to be educational. People got excited and donated money.”

“Interesting.” Sarah’s screeching intensifies, but I can’t pull myself away from this conversation.

“And then Howie died, and nobody knows what happened to the money. It was just gone.” She gestures wildly with her hands. “Word got out that our sales tax was the highest in the county and the shoppers stopped coming here, too. There was not enough money to push the project forward.”

“That’s awful,” I say sympathetically. Nobody should get scammed out of their money. “But that doesn’t explain why everyone hates Henry for what his uncle did.”

Helen rests her hands on her hips. “Well, how about this? When people approached Henry, he said he didn’t have the money. He said all that his uncle’s bank accounts were empty. Then Henry told everyone who came calling that he was not legally obligated to pay back his uncle’s debts.”

I’m not a fan of the way she emphasizes the word said , insinuating Henry is lying. I bite my lip, already regretting what I’m about to say. “That’s sad but, legally, as a nephew, he’s not obligated to pay them back.”

Helen looks affronted. “But it’s the right thing to do!”

Stifling the sharp response on the tip of my tongue, I twist my mouth and pause to consider how to keep peace with my neighbor. I go with, “That’s a lot of expectations to put on a grieving nephew.”

“And then,” Helen continues as if not hearing me, “he goes and buys a bunch of land to open a pumpkin patch, of all things? What are we supposed to think? That he didn’t have Howie’s money— our money—stashed away somewhere? Oh, Henry said it all came from savings, but trust me. Follow the money, dear. You’ll see.”

Sarah has finally had enough, and I can’t stand here and talking to Helen for another second. I excuse myself, and I feel her eyes on me as I make my way to my car with the squealing, toddler.

The entire drive to my first day on the job, I try not to let Helen’s opinions of Henry put a damper on everything.

But what if she’s right? What if Henry does know what happened to all the donors’ money?

“It’s none of my business, is it, Sarah? I just need to have a job and figure out how to get back on my feet. Besides, we like Henry, don’t we?”

Sarah shrieks, “Auntie. House.”

My kid might cause chaos, but she has her priorities.