Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14
E arly fall sunshine painted Harmony Falls’ town square in honey-gold, glinting off the metal poles of hastily erected festival booths. Ella breathed in the mingled scents of kettle corn and barbecue smoke, letting the familiar festival sounds wash over her - children’s laughter, live music drifting from the gazebo, the constant hum of small-town life in celebration.
She paused at Cedar Barnes’ flower stall, where late summer blooms spilled from vintage mason jars in riotous color. The urge to touch a sunflower petal was irresistible.
“Beautiful specimens, aren’t they?” Cedar’s kind eyes crinkled at the corners. “Sage outdid herself this year.”
“They’re gorgeous.” Ella traced the velvety edge of a petal. “I’d love to grow some flowers of my own. Maybe window boxes on my apartment balcony.”
“That little porch above Pages & Perennials gets perfect morning sun,” Cedar noted. “Helen Thompson used to have the most beautiful flower boxes up there before she moved to Florida. The brackets are still there, just waiting for someone with a green thumb.”
A piercing shriek of feedback cut through their conversation as the sound system rebelled, music dissolving into static. Before Ella could even wince, Tom materialized, toolbox in hand, moving with the focused grace she’d come to associate with him. Her breath caught as she watched him work, those capable hands making quick work of unruly wiring.
“And... there we go.” Music flooded back, crystal clear. Tom glanced up, catching her watching. The smile that tugged at his lips sent warmth spreading through her chest.
“My hero,” she teased.
His ears reddened endearingly. “Just doing my job.”
Tom was soon called away, and Ella found herself drawn into the growing festival crowd. Main Street had transformed into a maze of booths and tents, with what felt like half the state turning out for Harmony Falls’ famous Fall Festival celebration.
“Quite a crowd this year,” Frank Henderson called from his spot manning the information booth. “Already had folks asking directions from Seattle, Portland, even had someone drive up from California.”
“The Barnes’ herbs are a big draw,” his wife Karen added. “And everyone wants to meet the famous Aunt Thea.”
“It’s wonderful,” Ella called out with a smile. “This festival really brings people together. I can see why it’s such a big hit every year!”
Ella wove through the thickening crowd toward Pages & Perennials’ outdoor display, where Nancy Draycott stood amidst an inviting spread of books and vibrant potted plants. The normally serene bookstore owner was radiant, her silver-streaked auburn hair catching the sunlight as she animatedly shared tales of Pacific Northwest folklore. Her clear blue eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, drawing in a group of captivated tourists who hung on her every word, charmed by her passion and the warm, melodic cadence of her voice.
The scent of coffee drew her toward Maris’s booth, where the Harvest Moon Café owner was doing brisk business. “Your usual?” Maris asked, already reaching for the hazelnut syrup. “Though you might want to try my special festival blend. It’s got a hint of...” She lowered her voice conspiratorially, “...cinnamon and nutmeg. Old family recipe.”
“I’ll take it,” Ella decided. The festival energy was infectious, and she had a feeling she’d need the caffeine to keep up.
She spotted Farrah Bennett from school arranging face-painting supplies while Jordan Whitaker entertained the growing line of children with science tricks. Mrs. Pendleton presided over the bake sale with military precision, her famous apple pies already half sold out.
“Out-of-towners,” Cedar Barnes commented, appearing at her elbow with a knowing look. “They always underestimate Mrs. Pendleton’s pies. Should’ve pre-ordered like the locals.”
The crowd parted briefly, giving Ella a clear view of Sage Barnes’ herb booth, where people were three deep trying to get their hands on her famous lotions, lavender sachets, and healing teas. River Barnes darted between customers, somehow managing to keep the shelves stocked while sharing local legends with enthralled tourists.
“Gets bigger every year,” Sage said when Ella finally made it to the front. “Though having Aunt Thea here certainly helps. Her readings have quite the reputation.”
As if summoned by her name, Aunt Thea emerged from her tent, green eyes sharp as she surveyed the crowd. Those eyes landed on Ella with unsettling perception.
“The cards have been asking about you, dear,” she said, her voice carrying despite the festival noise. “Perhaps it’s time we had that chat.”
Before Ella could respond, a crash from the bandstand had her turning. Tom was already moving, toolbox in hand, his protective instincts as reliable as gravity. Their eyes met briefly across the crowd, and that now-familiar warmth bloomed in her chest.
“Ah,” Aunt Thea murmured, following her gaze. “Some souls find each other in every lifetime. Though sometimes they need a little... guidance.”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Ella started, but the older woman was already gliding back to her tent, and waving Ella to the front of the line.
Curiosity won out, and soon Ella found herself sitting across from Zoey’s Aunt Thea. The older woman’s sharp green eyes seemed to look straight through her as she took Ella’s hand.
“Such tragedy you’ve carried,” Aunt Thea said softly, her voice filled with quiet compassion. “A love lost too soon. But that’s not the end of your story, dear.”
Ella’s throat tightened. “I...”
“Blood calls to blood,” Aunt Thea continued, her gaze unwavering. “You’ll find answers among kin you don’t yet know. The ties that bind you to this place run deeper than you imagine.” She smiled suddenly, a twinkle in her eye. “And love! Oh my, that’s blooming like my best roses. Though some people need a little push to see what’s right in front of them.”
Ella carefully avoided looking toward where Tom was helping set up the children’s games. “I’m not sure about?—”
“Trust an old woman’s eyes, dear. And trust your heart. It knows the way home, even when your head’s being stubborn.”
Ella thanked Aunt Thea and stumbled out of the tent, her thoughts a jumble. The older woman’s words echoed in her mind, tugging at emotions she’d tried hard to keep buried. A love lost too soon. That part stung, but it was the mention of blood ties and blooming love that unsettled her most.
She paused outside, her gaze drifted toward Tom, who was adjusting the setup at the children’s games, his movements sure and steady.
Surely Aunt Thea doesn’t mean him, Ella thought, shaking her head. But the warmth in her chest and the inexplicable pull toward his quiet strength told her otherwise. She brushed the thought aside, snapping a quick photo of her students at the face-painting booth as if capturing their laughter might dispel the strange tension swirling inside her.
Despite her best efforts, Aunt Thea’s voice lingered: Trust your heart. It knows the way home. Ella swallowed hard, unsure whether she was ready to let her heart lead the way—wherever it might take her.
The festival swirled around her - locals and tourists mingling, children darting between booths with painted faces, the MacGregor brothers setting up what looked suspiciously like Highland games equipment complete with bagpipes and what appeared to be a telephone pole. Oh, strike that. A caber. Their wives watched with fond exasperation.
Tom joined her and she smiled at him. “Should we be worried?” Ella asked, watching Liam attempt to lift the pole.
“Always,” Tom said seriously. “But they haven’t broken anything important yet.”
She laughed, he grinned and it was chaos and joy and community all rolled into one, and Ella realized with sudden clarity that she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.
Home, her heart whispered as she looked into Tom’s piercing blue eyes. This just might be home.
Ella stared at her laptop screen at her corner table in the Harvest Moon Café, fighting the urge to bang her head against the worn wooden surface. The online volunteer signup sheet she’d created was a mess of double-bookings and blank spaces. Mrs. Henderson had somehow signed up for three different positions in the same time slot, while the crucial setup crew remained desperately understaffed.
“Technology is supposed to make things easier,” she muttered, attempting to untangle the scheduling chaos. The rich aroma of coffee and fresh-baked muffins wafted through the air, doing little to soothe her frustration.
The bell above the café door chimed, and she looked up to see Tom standing there, looking unfairly attractive in a dark blue shirt that made his eyes seem deeper. Her heart did that annoying little skip it always did when she saw him now, especially when memories of their kiss floated unbidden through her mind.
“Heard you might need some help with security planning,” he said, making his way between the scattered tables.
“Do we really need security for this?” She glanced up from her laptop, trying to ignore how the morning light caught his eyes. “It’s just a movie night.”
“Better safe than sorry. Crowd control, parking lot safety, emergency protocols...” He gave her a gentle but firm look. “Trust me on this one.”
She sighed. “Fine. As long as you’re helping, because I definitely don’t have that part under control.” She gestured at her laptop with maybe a touch too much force. “Or most parts, if I’m being honest.”
He raised an eyebrow at her screen. “Is Mrs. Henderson supposed to be running concessions, taking tickets, and managing parking simultaneously?”
“She’s very ambitious.” Ella sighed and pushed her half-empty coffee mug aside. “Fine. The software hates me, and half the volunteers who signed up have already backed out.”
“Let me help.” He pulled out one of the café’s mismatched chairs before she could protest, settling in close enough that his leg pressed warmly against hers. “At least with the security aspects.”
She opened her mouth to insist she could handle it, then closed it again. Being independent didn’t mean she had to do everything alone. Besides, the familiar scent of his cologne was making it hard to remember why she’d wanted to resist his help in the first place.
“Thank you,” she said instead.
They worked companionably for a few minutes, Tom’s quiet competence helping restore order to her chaotic spreadsheet. He’d draped his arm across the back of her chair, not quite touching her but close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him. Every time he leaned in to point at something on her screen, his breath stirred her hair, sending little shivers down her spine that had nothing to do with the café’s air conditioning.
Then the distinctive sound of MacGregor voices approached, drawing curious glances from other café patrons. Tom’s arm slipped away from her chair, and she tried not to miss its presence.
“Ah, perfect!” Gareth strode in, followed by his brothers. “Just th’ people we needed tae see.”
“We’re a bit busy,” Ella started, but Gareth was already pulling up another chair, the legs scraping against the café’s wooden floor.
“This willnae take long. We’ve just had some ideas about addin’ traditional touches tae yer movie night.”
“Traditional?” Ella asked warily, very aware of how Tom shifted slightly closer to her as Gareth joined them.
“Aye!” Liam’s eyes sparkled. “We thought we could start wi’ a ceremonial bagpipe procession?—”
“No bagpipes,” Tom said firmly.
“Just a wee demonstration o’ caber tossin’ then?”
“We are not throwing telephone poles at a school movie night,” Ella said, earning a concerned look from the elderly couple at the next table.
“Technically, they’re specially prepared logs,” Aiden offered quietly, his Scottish burr softer than his brothers’.
“Not helping,” Tom muttered.
Gareth leaned forward, his expression earnest. “Th’ point is, lass, we want tae help make this event special. It’s yer first major contribution tae th’ community.”
Something in his tone made Ella’s chest tight. He sounded so... proud. Like a father watching his child tackle their first big project.
“I appreciate that,” she said carefully, wrapping her hands around her cooling coffee mug. “But maybe we could start smaller? Some Scottish snacks for the concession stand?”
“Excellent idea!” Gareth beamed. “I’ll have Lissa make her shortbread. And haggis?—”
“No haggis,” everyone said in unison.
Gareth huffed, but his eyes were warm as he watched Ella sort through volunteer lists. When she struggled with a particularly tangled scheduling conflict, he quietly suggested a solution that actually made sense.
“You’ve done this before?” she asked, surprised.
“Organized a few events in ma time.” He smiled. “Ye learn a thing or two over th’ years.”
She wanted to ask exactly how many years, but something in his expression stopped her. Instead, she found herself accepting his advice, letting him help sort through the logistics while Liam and Aiden offered increasingly outlandish suggestions for “traditional entertainment.”
“We could have a sword dance demonstration,” Liam suggested hopefully, bouncing on his toes.
“Or perhaps just some folk music,” Aiden countered, ever the voice of reason.
Ella caught Tom hiding a smile behind his hand. The whole scene was ridiculous—three grown men arguing about Highland games while helping plan a simple movie night in a small-town café. But somehow it felt... right.
“Th’ thing about community events,” Gareth said softly while his brothers debated the merits of kilts as mandatory dress code, “is that they’re about more than just th’ event itself. They’re about bringin’ people together, makin’ connections. Buildin’ family.”
She looked at him sharply, but his attention was already back on the volunteer list.
“This slot here,” he pointed. “Ye’ll want someone steady, reliable. Let me talk tae Cedar Barnes—he’s good wi’ this sort o’ thing.”
Just like that, solving a problem she’d been wrestling with all morning. Taking care of her, like... like a father would.
Don’t be ridiculous, she chided herself. He’s barely older than you are. You’re not looking for a father figure.
But watching him coordinate with his brothers, seamlessly turning their chaos into productive help, she couldn’t help feeling grateful for whatever twist of fate had brought these impossible men into her life.
“No bagpipes,” she said firmly as they finally prepared to leave, gathering their empty coffee cups. “But maybe... maybe some Scottish cookies wouldn’t be terrible.”
Gareth’s smile was suspiciously misty. “That’s ma girl.”
The words hit her right in the chest, warm and unexpected. She turned quickly back to her laptop, blinking hard.
“Well,” Tom said after they’d gone, the café door chiming behind them, “that was...”
“Yeah.” She laughed shakily. “Welcome to my life now, apparently.”
“Could be worse,” he offered, eyes twinkling. “They could have insisted on the caber toss.”
“Don’t even joke about that. They might hear you.”
Their laughter mingled with the gentle bustle of the café, and Ella felt something settle in her heart. This wasn’t the fresh start she’d planned, but maybe it was the one she needed. Tom’s hand found hers under the table, giving it a quick squeeze that sent warmth flooding through her chest.
Even if it came with bagpipe-loving pseudo-family attached.