4. Devon
DEVON
Istand up, stretching my back. The crisp autumn air fills my lungs, and I take a minute to enjoy it.
Why everyone says I hate this time of year is beyond me.
It’s my favorite. The sun is out, but it doesn’t burn me alive and leave me in a puddle while I work.
The leaves are gorgeous, even if I have to rake them up.
If it were up to me, they would be left to scatter the ground like Mother Nature intended.
Untouched. There’s true beauty in moments like that.
I peer down at my handiwork, inspecting one of the wood business corrals we use in the center of town market.
The inside shelf had gotten loose last year when Mrs. Worthington placed too many of her pumpkin pies on top.
She wasn’t very happy, but I got away with a free—if not disheveled looking—pie.
It didn’t bother me. Still tasted the same.
“There you are,” a female voice pipes up behind me, and I instantly recognize it.
“Inspecting and fixing the fall booths. Just like what’s on the schedule.” I turn to give my mother—and the mayor—a smile.
She reaches onto her tiptoes and gives me a peck on the cheek. The smell of apples greets me. She has an aroma for every season. I think she even marks the days to switch perfumes on her personal calendar. “I wanted to check in on you. You left the meeting in a hurry yesterday.”
“I wasn’t happy.”
“I think the whole room figured that out. What were your words? What the actual fuck?” She gives me a disapproving look.
Sometimes I think she repeats my words back to me just so she can swear and not feel bad about it. “It’s Sleepy Hollow Manor, Mom.”
“She’s a new neighbor, Devon. What have I always told you about Harvest Falls? It only works when everyone comes together. It’s the beauty of living in a small town.” She peers around at the square, then further where Main Street intersects.
If I didn’t live here, I wouldn’t think a place like this existed. It really is a quintessential small town where everyone knows everyone else’s name. “Do you want me to apologize?”
“I do.”
“I’m sor—.”
“Not to me!” She pulls her green and blue plaid jacket closer. “To her.”
I laugh. “I don’t think that would be well-received.
Plus, I’m pretty sure we won’t have to worry about her much longer.
” I try not to smile, but I can’t hide it.
The thought of Princess still stuck with one foot through her porch had me sleeping like a baby last night.
At this rate, she’ll be ready to offload the property, and I’ll be able to buy it for a song.
When Mom doesn’t answer, I turn toward her.
A frown pinches her face. I know that look.
It’s the one she wears when she’s worried all her lists and plans won’t work.
“If it makes you feel any better, I did try to apologize last night. I dropped her car off with a full tank of gas. She accused me of stealing it.”
Mom chuckles, her pumpkin earrings swinging freely. “Well... She’s probably not used to small town hospitality.”
“I returned it. I didn’t take it for a joy ride.”
She ignores me. “Which is why we need to show her what Harvest Falls is all about.”
She’s in Mayor mode now. Mom is one of those people who thinks there’s nothing better than living in a town with zero stoplights, and only a smattering of stop signs. Where you can leave your door unlocked overnight. She cannot comprehend why anyone would want to live anywhere else.
Plus, I know she’s still imagining that Fall Ball Ember proposed. I have to give it to the new girl, she must have done her research. Years ago, Sleepy Hollow Manor always hosted the Fall Ball. It was the cherry on top of the Fall Spectacular. There’s nothing my mother enjoys more than nostalgia.
“Well, you can count me out of whatever scheme you come up with.” I clench my jaw together, then visibly have to relax it.
“You know how badly I want the property.” All those nights spent dreaming are now down the toilet.
What a waste. And on someone like Ember, too.
“Don’t you think Sleepy Hollow Manor should’ve gone to someone who knows a little bit about the town? Not a complete outsider?”
“You’ve had years to buy it, Devon. Years.”
I grind my teeth together. “It was overpriced. That place needs so much work.”
“Which is why you’re going to help her.”
I scoff. “No.”
“Devon.”
“Mom.” She gives me a look, so I lower my voice and take some of the bite out of my response. “I’m not helping Ember fix up the house so she can steal my dream away from me.”
“So, which one is it, Devon? Is she about to leave? Or is she stealing your dream away still? Because from what I know, you catch more bees with honey.”
She pats my shoulder and then walks away, inspecting the wooden corrals as she goes.
Mom may be right, but that doesn’t mean I have to listen to her. There’s more than one way to get what I want, and the sooner Ember realizes she won’t be able to handle taking care of that big house, the quicker she’ll be gone, forced to sell for pennies on the dollar.
My phone rings, so I fish it out of my pocket while my mom waves for my attention, pointing down at one of the corrals where a piece of the front wood is cracked. I give her a thumbs up. It was next on my list to fix.
I immediately bring my phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Is this the handyman?”
I pull my phone away and peer at the number.
I don’t recognize it. Putting my phone back to my ear, I say, “It is.” I have a sneaking suspicion I know who this is, but I want to know who the jokester was who gave her my number.
My mother, probably. She walks back onto the street and waves into shop windows like she does every morning.
I know what she’s thinking. If we can bring back the Fall Ball, Heritage won’t have a chance at beating our festivities this year.
We’ll still be on top, and she can safely reclaim her crown of Fall Queen, or whatever she thinks she wins by making Harvest Falls the place to be this time of year.
Only, I thought I made myself quite clear yesterday that I wouldn’t be helping Ember. Why do I feel like this meeting with my mom was orchestrated now?
“Hello?”
“I’m still here, and yes, I’m the handyman.” It couldn’t hurt to make sure it’s Ember. It could be someone else I actually do want to help. “What do you need?”
“Well, I’m the new owner of Sleepy Hollow Manor.” And that confirms it. The pride in her voice irks me. She doesn’t even know what she has. She’s an outsider. She doesn’t have the long history of the place like those of us who were born and raised here.
She asks me to come take a look at the ballroom, and I find myself agreeing, even if only to see her face fall when I show up.
Yes, I’m a bastard.
I might even string her along a little to hear her ridiculous plans.
But mark my words, before Ember leaves Harvest Falls, I will own Sleepy Hollow Manor.
I pull my truck up to the curb in front of the big house.
It’s hard to see it like it is now. My mind can still picture it sitting there pristine.
Lawn perfectly manicured, painted to perfection.
Mr. and Mrs. Lewis were known to change the paint colors often.
Sometimes even with the seasons. Red and green for Christmas.
Orange and yellow for fall. Purple for Halloween, which is what it’s been for the longest time.
Old Man Lewis lost his wife the day before Halloween and Sleepy Hollow Manor was never the same. After he passed, the townspeople tried to keep it up, but it’s a gargantuan task. Old pipes. Historic siding. Don’t get me started on the electrical.
A quick glance at the front porch tells me Ember somehow freed herself from the porch that swallowed her up yesterday. A bucket sits over top of the shoe-sized hole.
A wave of guilt hits me. She could have been injured. I didn’t even think to ask. Then again, I did ask if she was comfortable, and she agreed, so that one is on her. Though, I’m not normally that much of a dick.
I get out of the truck, think briefly about grabbing my toolbox, but honestly, there’s no use in pretending I’m going to help her. I honestly don’t know if I’ll even make it up the stairs before she sees me. I’ll get in a good laugh, and she’ll be crushed into a million pieces.
Best case scenario.
I step gingerly up the front stairs. The creaking and groaning with the added wobbling of the wood on every step is an indicator that this needs extensive repair. The porch itself is even worse. No wonder she fell through it, and if she did, I could easily be next.
Reaching over the bucket, I knock on the antique door and step back. I hear her voice from inside, but it’s muffled. I wait another minute and knock again. This time, her voice is a little closer. “Come in!” It’s still garbled, but I try the doorknob, and it swings open freely, so I step inside.
“Sorry, I’m in the parlor. Just come on in.”
She sounds breathless, and I smile to myself. She’s nice to have around for entertainment. That’s for sure.
Closing the doors behind me, I walk through to where I heard her voice coming from.
I haven’t been in this house in years. Despite its shabby appearance, it still feels the same.
I wipe my fingers on the dust of a side cabinet just before the parlor door.
Yeah, this place could definitely use a good cleaning.
My footsteps give me away, and Ember’s excited voice lifts up from behind a bookcase. “I found a hidden door!”
“How exciting,” I say dryly.
Her head pops out around the bookcase, and her gaze immediately narrows. “You.”
“Me.” I rise up on my toes and back down again. The stinging smell of lemon and disinfectant reaches my nostrils. “I see you’re free from the jagged jaws of the porch.”
She steps out and crosses her arms in front of her chest. She’s wearing a handkerchief around her head and a rag peeks out of a closed fist. “No thanks to you.”
“You said you were quite comfortable.”