Chapter Forty-Nine Kiersten
Chapter Forty-Nine
Kiersten
Kiersten woke the day of the Harvest Festival to find blue skies and temperatures in the mid-fifties, cold enough to encourage picturesque fall sweaters, but not cold enough to keep people inside.
Garrett planted a good morning kiss on her cheek as she made her first cup of coffee.
“I see you’ve gone ‘full farmer’ in honor of the occasion.”
He glanced down at his western-style shirt and cowboy boots. He touched the brim of his green John Deere cap and grinned down at her. “Gotta look the part for the city folk.”
He’d been tasked with driving a small tractor and trailer up and down the cul-de-sac, giving hayrides. Richard Davis had used his contacts in local government to secure permission to close the street to traffic for the entire day.
“Knock, knock.” Rosamund entered the house through the mudroom. “Guinevere could use some help setting up cornhole,” she called out to Kiersten’s boys.
She flattened herself against the kitchen island as they bolted out the front door to help.
“Morning, Rosamund,” Garrett called.
She raised her coffee mug in greeting. “They just unloaded the tractor, and Miles needs you to sign something.”
“Got it.” Garrett headed out the door.
Kiersten turned to Rosamund with an innocent smile. When she’d taken the trash cans inside last night, she’d seen the wildlife biologist whistling as he left Rosamund’s house.
“Looks like Miles had dinner at your place again?”
“Oh. Well. Yes,” Rosamund stammered, her cheeks turning a becoming shade of pink. “The poor man is brilliant, but he’s such a terrible cook. Guinevere and I take pity on him a few nights each week and invite him over to eat with us.”
“I see,” she said, arching her brow.
“Knock, knock,” Piper called from the mudroom.
A warm sensation radiated through Kiersten’s chest. She loved that her neighbors felt they could enter her home with a verbal knock from the inside, rather than a physical knock from the outside.
Homeschooling was going better too. The carrot of daily screen time and the coming of Valentina had made all the difference in the world. Piper wondered how they had functioned without her. It felt like they were slowly finding their rhythm.
“Did you see the camera crew?” Piper asked, a little breathless.
“What camera crew?” Rosamund asked.
“I think Aspen is filming . . . or taping . . . or whatever they call it. Come look.”
They filed onto the front porch to witness the transformation taking place on Beaverbrook Lane.
Musicians set up microphones and speakers, while Garrett, Brendan, and Miles set up a semi-circle of hay bales in front of a stage to create seats under the supervision of Aspen’s husband, Trey.
He wore waterproof zip-leg hiking pants and a Patagonia half zip. He looked like he’d just stepped out of an REI ad.
And in the midst of it all strode Aspen, blond curls cascading down her back, resplendent in cowboy boots and a chunky oatmeal-colored sweater.
Behind her trailed a man with a large professional-looking camera on his shoulder, a young woman recording with a phone, and a still photographer snapping pictures as they walked.
“Concessions over there,” Aspen called to a group of high school kids who’d arrived to sell food in support of the high school crew team. “Right next to the Fort Hunt Presbyterians.”
Three energetic middle-aged women wrestled with the metal legs on a folding table as they set up their chili stand. The high school rowers noticed their struggle and quickly helped them flip the heavy tables upright.
“It looks like a Hallmark movie,” Rosamund said.
And it did, Kiersten realized. A true community, where everyone came together to celebrate a beautiful autumn day while supporting various worthy causes.
Aspen crossed the cul-de-sac and approached Kiersten’s porch, camera people in tow. “What do you guys think?” she asked, a broad smile lighting her perfectly made-up face.
“I think it’s amazing,” Kiersten said honestly. “You’ve done an incredible job pulling it all together.”
“I know.” She turned in a circle with the gleeful expression of a kid in a candy store. “So much content.”
“Well,” Piper said with that bright, fake smile she always used around Aspen, “I guess we should get to work. Any marching orders?”
“Yes,” Aspen said decisively. She then enumerated a long list of duties for each of them. “And when the festival ends at five, we start the harvest feast. Got it?”
“Yes ma’am,” Piper said.
“Great. Let’s get this party started.” She waved goodbye and headed for the bouncy house, camera people following closely behind.
“Here we go,” Piper said, looking grimly determined. “Time to manifest abundance like a . . .” She paused.
“Like a mother clucker?” Kiersten asked, smiling.
She grinned back. “Time to manifest abundance like a mother clucker.”