16. Hattie
SIXTEEN
Hattie
As the day shifts from light to dark, the festival’s vibe changes too.
Earlier in the day, it’s more kid-friendly with lots of chatter and kids running everywhere.
As night comes, the twinkly lights I hadn’t noticed in the daytime begin to illuminate everything and make the trees look like they’re on fire.
Ollie rode almost every ride five times each, and I’m exhausted. Emmy kept up with him for the last few rides, as I’d checked out after I had to eat something. Once I start eating, I don’t want to risk it by getting back on any rides.
I’m nibbling one of the deep-fried caramel apples I’d bought, and I’m in love.
Never have I had something so warm and gooey, but also crunchy, somehow?
The apples are warm, the caramel slightly cooking them, and the dough on the outside crunches as I take a bite.
Not to mention the powdered sugar on top, which is now entirely covering my black outfit.
“Okay, I think we’re both ready to eat now,” Emmy says, walking over from the Gravitron.
“Oh? Finally calling it a night?” I tease.
“Hey! I lasted longer than you, but I’m starving and that smells delicious.” Emmy groans.
Without thinking, I take one from the bag and hold it to her lips. She takes a bite, her plump pink lips touching the tips of my fingers. I swallow hard as she licks her lips afterward, while keeping eye contact with me.
“Can I have one, Mama?” Ollie asks, snapping me out of it. What is going on with me? I know better than to be flirting with Emmy.
“Of course, Love Bug.” I pull out the hand sanitizer and clean his hands, then hand him one. Thankfully, he isn’t asking why I was feeding his nanny and not him.
“I could use some too, please,” Emmy says. I squeeze some into her hands, and we all walk toward the food trucks.
Bells thought food trucks might be simpler this year and bring in a bigger crowd.
We do enough during the season to help the town out, so she reached out to food trucks based in New York City.
Then she asked if they could make their specialty with apples or pumpkin to draw in the crowd with its exclusivity.
I was impressed, not that I could ever tire of having apple pie from the bakery in town, but deep-fried apple slices?
I’m going back for seconds, that’s for sure.
“They have pumpkin ice cream and apple pie nachos, Love Bug,” I say as Ollie looks at all the menus.
“Can we get both?!” Ollie exclaims excitedly.
“As long as you share.” I smile.
“Deal!”
We pig out, grabbing the pumpkin ice cream, apple pie nachos, pumpkin pie donuts, and apple cider cake. Emmy shares with Ollie and me; by the end, everything is demolished, and we’re all full.
It’s fully dark now, each of the rides and food trucks providing light along with the lights Bells must have had Tilly install.
It is sort of romantic, the way the place is lit up and the smell of pumpkin and spiced apples is in the air.
If I close my eyes, I’d think I am walking through Lina’s bakery with how good it smells out here.
“Ooo pumpkins! I almost forgot about that!” I say in excitement as we reach the pumpkin patch on the way back to the car.
“Do we have to carve pumpkins this year?” Ollie groans.
“Come on, it’s so much fun!” I try to convince him.
“You don’t like carving pumpkins?” Emmy asks Ollie.
“No. It’s so gross, and everything is so slimy.” Ollie makes a disgusted face.
“It’s so fun! Every year we make them and put them on the porch for Halloween.” I say excitedly.
“I’ve never carved one before,” Emmy says.
Ollie and I turn to stare at her. “What?” we say in unison.
“I don’t think my mom was that into Halloween, so we never did. What? Is that weird?” Emmy asks.
“See, Love Bug, we have to get one this year. Emmy’s never even experienced a real Halloween!” I joke, trying to convince him.
“Ugh, fine. But I’m not helping touch the insides. I’ll just watch,” Ollie negotiates.
“Fine.” I laugh. “Emmy, you wanna pick out a big one so it has a lot of space to carve a design. It’s a little hard at first, but I’ll help. It’s fun, despite what Ollie says.”
“Okay.” Emmy looks around the patch, which is thankfully under the lights of the surrounding rides.
“What if I just paint one this year?” Ollie calls from a few rows of pumpkins over.
“Come on! Where’s your sense of adventure?” I call back.
I hear Ollie groan and laugh. He’s always hated carving pumpkins.
When he was a baby, I used to have him help me from his highchair, and his reaction was always the same.
I thought it might be something he’d grow out of, but obviously that isn’t the case.
I know he’ll be painting the one he picks out; there’s no use trying to force it, or I’ll have to find another Halloween tradition for us to take on.
“Found mine!” Emmy calls out, and I walk over to check it out.
“Wow, I’m impressed,” I admit. It is a great-looking pumpkin, and the face is big enough to carve a cool design.
“Found mine too!” Ollie picks up a pumpkin smaller than Emmy’s but big enough that he’s struggling to carry it.
“Looks amazing, Love Bug.” I ruffle his hair and take it from him so he doesn’t topple over.
Bending down, I inspect a few pumpkins before finding mine.
I’m particular about this. Which is funny because it isn’t like we have trick-or-treaters on the orchard; the only people who really see them are Tilly and Lina.
But that doesn’t matter to me; I love putting my all into it.
It is something Benny taught me the year I moved here, and I’ve perfected it over time.
We take the pumpkins to the car, tuck them into the trunk, and drive back home. On the five-minute drive, Ollie falls into a deep sleep.
“Can you get the door? It’ll be easier just to carry him in,” I say to Emmy.
“Of course.” She agrees and takes the keys to run ahead.
I carry Ollie inside and upstairs to his room.
Groggily, he wakes up enough to let me put him in pajamas and tuck him in.
I kiss him on the forehead and make a mental note to change his sheets in the morning.
He is covered in sugar and dirt from the day, but it isn’t worth it to wake him now.
Then I head back downstairs as Emmy is carrying the pumpkins in.
“Is he asleep for the night?” Emmy asks.
“Oh yeah, the Fall Festival gets him like this every year. I’d be shocked if we hear from him before nine a.m. tomorrow.” I laugh.
“I had a lot of fun today, thank you for letting me tag along.” Emmy smiles.
“It was nice having you there,” I admit. Suddenly I don’t want the night to end. “Do you want to carve your pumpkin with me? I’m going to do mine tonight.”
“Oh, sure. Maybe I should change first? This isn’t really something I want to get pumpkin guts on.” She laughs, gesturing to her outfit.
“Take your time; I should probably change too.”
I head upstairs thinking I’m going to put on a pair of sweats when I feel a little self-conscious. I opt for a matching Halloween set; it’s black but covered in little jack-o’-lanterns so it fits the theme. The shorts are a little small on me, but I won’t be doing any bending, so it should be okay.
I head back downstairs, and Emmy is still in her room, so I take the pumpkins to the kitchen sink and rinse them off. They aren’t unclean per se, but I feel better washing them.
I grab all the supplies we need for the carving and place large, dirty towels on the kitchen island. One year, I forgot to do that and ended up cutting a hole in Benny’s kitchen counter. Of course, she was able to fix it, but I never made that mistake again.
Emmy walks into the kitchen, her red hair in a tight bun, her glasses on, and she’s wearing an oversized T-shirt and some leggings.
She looks like a sexy yoga teacher that I wouldn’t mind bending over for me.
Smiling, she takes a seat at the island across from me and watches quietly as I bring the clean pumpkins over and dry them.
I put Ollie’s pumpkin to the side so he can paint it tomorrow.
“So, before anything else, we have to cut the top off and scoop out the big part of the insides. I usually just dump it right into a trash bag and bring it to Tilly to add to the compost,” I explain.
“Once we get the main stuff out, we’ll need to use a spoon or a scraper to get to the inside edges. ”
“Makes sense. Is it hard to cut it? Like, is there a certain way to do it?” Emmy asks curiously, standing next to me to see better.
“Sort of, they can be tough, so it’s best to go in on a bit of an angle and take your time,” I explain.
I pick up the knife, cutting the top of my pumpkin in a perfect circle and taking the top off. I scoop off the seeds and guts into the clean garbage bag I prepared and tilt the pumpkin to show Emmy the inside. She makes a face, something between a grimace and curiosity.
“Then, you can use a spoon or a scooper, but I find it easier to use my hands and pull the insides out,” I say. Thank goodness I haven’t bothered to get my nails done this week, or my manicure would be a wreck in seconds.
I scoop out the insides, Emmy watching on, and I try not to feel self-conscious.
It’s something I’ve done hundreds of times, but with her watching, it makes me feel like I am doing something wrong.
Like when a teacher looks over your shoulder during a test, and you forget all the answers.
Her face is expressionless, which I think is what makes it harder for me.
“Can I try?” Emmy asks.
“Sure.” I nod. But she picks up the knife, and when she holds the pumpkin, she’s seconds away from cutting off her thumb. “Wait!”
She drops the knife, startled, and I catch it in time. “Hold it like this.” I stand behind her, showing her the proper grip, and we cut into the pumpkin together.
I can no longer smell the fresh pumpkin; instead, I smell her lilac perfume and the remnants of powdered sugar from earlier.
I realize my hand is over hers and it no longer needs to be, so I step back.
She takes off the top of the pumpkin and begins copying what I am doing.
I don’t know what is with me lately; it is like I can’t keep my hands off her—literally.
I want to maintain professional boundaries, but it’s like I’ve forgotten how.
“Did anyone ever tell you that you think very loudly?” Emmy says, studying my face.
“Uh, no?” I clear my throat. But there’s no point; what I’m thinking is clearly written all over my face.
“I don’t mind if you touch me,” Emmy says quietly, but my eyes widen when she realizes what she’s said. “I mean to help! Fuck, sorry. I don’t know why this is so weird.”
“Probably because we’re both trying so hard to ignore the elephant in the room.” I sigh.
“Which is…” Emmy’s voice trails.
“That we hooked up, and it’s been on my mind ever since…” I say quietly, afraid to see how she’ll react.