Chapter 5
FIVE
Avery
If someone had told me five years ago that I’d be standing in the middle of a pumpkin patch in Los Angeles, at a festival I organized for a women’s shelter, I would’ve laughed them out of the one-room apartment that I could barely afford.
Yet, here I was, heels sinking into the grass of Westwood Park, surrounded by hay bales, cider barrels, and more pumpkins than I realized Southern California could grow.
Scarecrows lined pathways, and wagons overflowed with gourds of every shape, color, and size.
Even though we didn’t get the full experience of the autumn season in Southern California, the Farm Fresh Fall Festival brought that to life for us tonight.
Jim had rented out the entire park, permits and all, because of course he had.
I would’ve been happy with folding chairs and fairy lights strung between the oaks, but my husband didn’t do small.
If Mitchell and Associates were going to sponsor the fall festival, apparently, Westwood Park had to belong to us for the night.
But, as I looked around, it was clear to see that it wasn’t just a festival anymore.
Under strings of golden fairy lights, stacks of hay and pumpkins mingled with Mitchell-level touches.
There were gourmet cider stations with copper samovars steaming in the brisk October air, heaters disguised as rustic lantern posts, and a sound system that made the jazz band sound like they’d been imported straight from New Orleans.
Security blended into the crowd, wearing jeans and sweaters to maintain a casual atmosphere.
And the crowd…God, it was exactly what I envisioned.
The women from the shelter were enjoying themselves while their kids ran wild between booths, giggling with painted faces and caramel apples in hand.
They were the heart of this night. This was their festival, and their chance to feel joy without fear and to have a holiday that didn’t remind them of what they’d lost, but of what was still possible.
Holidays were the worst for people dealing with divorce, separations, or strained relationships, especially when it was so hard to leave in the first place.
I didn’t want anyone to feel loss or sadness or wish their family was together when the whole reason they left was to save their lives from the toxic family environment that was making them so unhappy.
Plenty of my husband’s associates and other client investors were here too, floating through the crowd in tailored suits and expensive shoes, pretending they didn’t mind grass stains or glittery pumpkins.
They weren’t who this was for, though. Not tonight.
Tonight, they were just a bankroll for me, a tax write-off for them, and the necessary means to keep the shelter’s lights on.
If they enjoyed sipping cider out of mason jars and pretending it was charming, all the better.
“Mom! Watch this!” Izzy’s voice rang over the music. She was red-faced and giggling as she fished a plastic duck from the prize pond, her ponytail flying everywhere. Addy stood beside her, arms crossed like a tiny CEO, watching like she’d coached her to win the prized duck.
“I gave her the cheat code to dunking for ducks, Mom,” my teenage daughter said, trying to steal the spotlight.
I laughed. “Cheat code?”
Addy smirked. “Yes, because the ones with the faded paint always win.”
“I’m confused,” Jim appeared at my side and handed me a steaming paper cup, his Tom Ford suit looking hilariously out of place against the hay bales. “Hot cider for the lady who insisted on pumpkins instead of catering from Spago.”
“Thank you, and I’m just as confused, but at least they’re having fun.” I took a sip, the warmth spreading through me. “What you should be more concerned with is the dunk tank I insisted on that you promised to get in.”
His green eyes sparked. “That was under duress, and not in writing.”
“Still counts,” I winked, taking another sip and shrugging.
“Well, well,” Jim’s younger brother, Jake, approached with his and Ash’s oldest kid, John.
I smiled at John, who looked identical to his dad but was identical to Jim in personality. “How’s my handsome nephew? Is Kaley with Mom?”
John stood as if he were one of the influential executives here, with an air that said this was merely something he had to attend.
“She’s doing the duck dunk with Izzy and Addy,” he answered.
“Of course, at eleven years old, Big John here is too cool for any of this,” Jake responded.
“More like too cool for any of us,” Jim added.
“Hey, babe, this is spectacular. I love everything about this atmosphere,” my best friend, and Jake’s wife, Ash, said as she handed John a caramel apple. “Here, hunny-bunny.”
We all covered our smiles when John’s cheeks flushed red, mortified that his mom had just embarrassed him in front of his Uncle Jim, whom he admired more than anyone.
“Where’s mine?” Jim covered for him, just as he always had.
“Real men get their own caramel apples, Jimmy,” Jake answered, taunting his son.
“Is Jacks coming tonight?” John asked, ignoring him. “I was hoping Cam and Jessa were coming and he’d be with them.”
“Unfortunately, no,” I answered. “Jessa said that Jackson has a coaching event at the high school.”
“See? Now, that’s something cool, doing things like that. Not this,” John said, matter-of-factly.
“Says the man eating the caramel apple his mommy just got for him,” Jake teased.
“The party can start now. We have arrived,” Collin said, approaching with his wife, Elena, at his side and their two-year-old daughter on his shoulders, clutching her ankles as she giggled.
“John!” she shrieked, bouncing on her dad’s shoulders. “Hi!”
Collin set her down. His kids were practically cousins with all the other kids, but they were especially close with Jake’s kids.
It was adorable watching John try to navigate the younger kids’ adoration while still convincing himself that he belonged in the conversations of prominent executives and doctors.
“Seraphina, don’t,” he half warned, half chuckled. “Your cotton candy is sticky.”
“Hey, John,” Elena said as John was wrangling Seraphina, “can you take little Alex to the girls over at the pumpkin walk?”
“Pumpkin walk?” John said, highly annoyed that he was forced into babysitting duty.
“Yeah, dude,” Collin said. “It’s really awesome. They play music and you hop on the patches in the circles, and if you land on one, you get a free pumpkin to carve.”
“God,” he rolled his eyes, and my lips pinched in humor.
“That’s enough of the attitude, mister,” Ash said with a hint of warning in her kind eyes. “Go enjoy yourselves with the kids. Uncle Alex and Aunt Bree are on their way with the twins, and you have Addy to help you.”
John’s gaze darted so blatantly toward where the school kids were congregated that he immediately gave himself away—a rookie mistake in front of Jake and Collin.
The doctors weren’t just masters at calling everyone out and giving them hell; they also loved teasing the kids when they thought they were too cool to enjoy any holiday or event they should be celebrating.
“Well, there’s the reason for the attitude,” Jake pointed out first. “His little crush is here.”
“I don’t have a crush on her or anyone, Dad,” John snapped.
“What’s her name?” Collin prodded.
“Rosie Bennet, and we’re just friends,” John held his ground.
“Friends is the best place to start,” I smiled.
“Why don’t you ask your friend to join you and all the kids?” Jake taunted.
“Because she’s not here to babysit. I am,” he rolled his eyes.
“Protective of her time?” Jim joined in. “Good man,” he nodded.
“I’m gonna go watch kids bob for apples, I guess,” John said, sighing and hoping someone would tell him he was off the hook.
“It’s the pumpkin walk,” Collin corrected. “Over there!” he said, his eyes wide with teasing excitement.
“Ugh,” he gave a long, exasperated sigh and marched off to fulfill his big cousin duty.
“Lord, once these damn kids hit any age past ten, they suddenly turn into our enemies and act like we are only here to piss them off,” Jake said.
“You acted the same way at his age,” Jim defended his nephew. “We all did. It’s part of growing up.”
The men fell into conversation, and then Nat and Spencer arrived. Their daughter clung tightly to her father, who joined the men, while Nat came over to join Ash, Elena, and me.
“Damn, girl. This is everything I love about fall and more. I swear I wasn’t in the mood for the holidays to be here yet, but this makes me want to hire that badass event architect so she can decorate our home and plan a massive brokerage event.
” She smiled at me, “Avery, this is spectacular, and it’s everything that this city and your center needs.
By the way, I have promising news about Claire,” she said, always knowing inside shit beyond even the most powerful men in Jim’s company.
“Oh? How did you know about her?” I asked.
She smirked, drinking her most-likely-spiked cider, “Honey, you don’t get to be where I am in real estate without knowing each and every elite soul who wants a slice of California property.”
“I was really hoping she’d take me up on coming to the center,” I said. “I just can’t win them all I guess.”
“They’re never yours to win,” Ash corrected me with the truth I needed to hear.
“I can confirm that the disgusting pig of a broker, who is Claire’s husband, was arrested on the domestic charges she filed.
What’s more, many women from his firm are coming forward with accusations that do not bode well for him.
So, let’s just say that after the lawyers and penal system are done with him, Claire will be living quite well financially. ”
I covered my mouth in shock, heartbroken for Claire and all the other women who’d been degraded and abused.
Nat read my expression, “He manipulated their commissions in exchange for services, and that never lands well with a judge or jury. Spence and I have already taken action to save the company for Claire and merge it with my brokerage. And the moral of the story is, nice people do win even when they can’t see it coming. ”
I raised my cider cup, “Well, this is a time to celebrate a win for women who have been abused, and that the truth always comes out in the end.”
“Indeed,” Nat said. “Oh, shit. There’s Cat, the event architect I was just talking about. You girls must meet her,” she said, waving her over.
I turned and saw a woman in an emerald silk dress who seemed entirely too glamorous for a fall festival.
Her black hair was swept into a sleek knot, and her eyes were sharp, like she’d already redesigned my event before I’d said hello.
She cut through the crowd like she owned it, then stopped directly in front of me with a smile that was equal parts polished charm and professional critique.
“Nat Spencer, you doll,” she approached, half professional and half sass to match Nat’s personality.
“These are my friends, Ash, Elena, and Avery. Avery designed this whole thing, and her husband’s decorator brought it all to life,” Nat said. “Girls, this is Catalina Veléz.”
“Wonderful to meet you all. Your festival is absolutely charming,” she smiled warmly. She looked at me and held out her hand, “Mrs. Mitchell, I’ve heard a lot about you.”
I blinked, momentarily thrown. “Nat was just informing us that you actually arrange these events?”
“Cat practically goes into battle mode to make sure everything runs smoothly, and one would never know there was a flaw,” Nat raved.
“Nat, you’re too much,” Cat chuckled. “Nat and I met when I was called in to salvage an elite event for her brokerage, a multi-million-dollar merger that had to run flawlessly. We pulled it off, impressed everyone, and people are still praising the event and donating,” she added, nodding toward Nat.
“You saved the fucking night, is what you did, the press arriving when they weren’t alerted before, fucking everything.”
“It’s what I do, sweetheart.” Cat looked at me, “I love your vision for your women’s center.
If my dearest friend had dared to seek refuge in a place like yours, she would still be with us today.
I am happy to meet the woman who is working tirelessly to continue to help women find the courage to leave toxic and sometimes life-threatening situations. ”
“It’s a challenge at times, that’s for sure,” I said.
“And I’m truly sorry for your loss. Sadly, it is something I often experience in this line of work.
But instead of letting the sad stories overwhelm me, I try to let them inspire me to do more—to throw more festivals like this, so women can enjoy the simple things in life, or to do whatever else I can to help them reclaim their lives. ”
“It’s a beautiful movement,” she smiled. “And thank you for your condolences. I don’t speak of her often, but I attended and donated tonight because I want this to expand and for more awareness to be made.”
“Perhaps with your vision and mine,” I said, “you can orchestrate my husband’s annual charity event. He hosts it every Christmas holiday for his company, and together, we can increase more investments for the charity.”
“I would gladly help,” she said, her smile igniting the love that I held for doing things like this.
It was a beautiful night with fall in full swing.
Halloween was just a week away, with Thanksgiving soon after.
The holidays always seemed to come so fast after Halloween.
But, surprisingly, I didn’t feel the usual pressure that came with the holiday season.
Instead, I felt ready to step into the holidays with open arms, to savor their warmth and cheer, and to let their energy fuel the work I loved and the cause I stood for.