Chapter 7
It was dark as James and I took the trail up to the house. The air was crisp and fresh in the way only autumn could achieve.
“Can I ask you something?” he said.
“One embarrassing secret is my daily threshold, actually.”
A soft chuckle escaped his lips. “It’s not that sort of question.”
“Okay. Shoot.”
There was a slight pause as our feet crunched on the gravel. “How does my mom seem to you?”
I stole a sidelong glance at him. It was too dark to see his face well, but even if it hadn’t been, James wasn’t one to wear his heart on his sleeve. I didn’t think he wore it at all. It was probably locked in a vault in some doomsday prepper bunker.
I thought for a second before responding.
I wasn’t sure how much of my thoughts and observations to share, and yet two things came to mind:
1. James had been honest with me about the cream puffs. Obviously, his mom’s health wasn’t equivalent to that, but didn’t I owe him some honesty in exchange for his?
2. I’d been judging him for leaving his mom to manage the farm on her own, assuming he knew how difficult it had been and the toll it had taken. What if he didn’t?
“She moves more slowly than she used to,” I said. “She rubs her hands a lot—her joints, I think. I helped her with fixing some of the tubing the other day because she just…couldn’t do it. I think one of her knees bothers her too.”
It went quiet again as we approached the glowing lights of the house.
Had I said too much?
James let out a big breath as we reached the stairs. “Thanks.”
The porch lights illuminated his face, casting a pronounced shadow where his brow was pulled together.
I gave a sympathetic grimace as he opened the door for me, the smell of cornbread and chicken and gravy welcoming us inside.
“There you two are!” May came over with a face wreathed in smiles to contrast perfectly with her son’s worry. “I’m glad to see you knew what was best for you, Miss Sadie.”
“How could anyone turn down dinner from May Carver?” I replied.
She put her arm around me and squeezed, then turned to her son. “There’s my handsome young man! I’ve hardly seen you today. You know what they call that, right? Cruel and unusual punishment.”
James wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. “Sorry, Mama.”
The sweetness of the gesture tugged at my heart.
James had hurt my brother. A lot. But it was hard to see a man as the enemy when he was hugging his mom.
“It’s partially my fault,” I admitted. “I asked for his help. And now I need yours.” I held up the plate of cream puffs. “I need you to tell me which one you like best.”
May’s eyes widened. “Well, don’t those look delightful!” She took the plate. “I’ll do it right after dinner, darlin’. Now, go wash up in the bathroom.”
I hesitated. It had been a very long time since I’d used the Carvers’ bathroom. Chances were good that I’d choose the right door in the hallway, but they weren’t 100%.
“This way,” James said.
He led the way past the living room, then stopped in front of the bathroom door.
I went in and took a spot at the sink on the left, leaving the one on the right for James.
He didn’t take it.
I glanced over my shoulder, but he was gone. Maybe he was washing up in a different bathroom. Or maybe I smelled bad.
I did a quick smell check, but the only whiffs I caught were deodorant and hours of baking. After drying my hands, I fixed my bangs, then made my way to the kitchen.
I slowed at the sight of James in the living room, staring at the wall of photos.
His gaze flicked to me, and he stepped away from the wall.
Our shoulders brushed as he headed for the bathroom, and a faucet turned on.
I helped May get a few last things on the table, my stomach grumbling in anticipation. The entire table felt so cozy and homey. Nothing matched, but every glass, every bowl, every plate seemed like it held a story. It was like swimming in Carver history.
I set down the pitcher of sweet tea just as James walked in, running a hand through his hair as his gaze landed on me.
May was at the counter, her back to us, and she made a sound of annoyance.
James and I both looked at what she was doing—trying to open a jar of pickles. Our gazes met again.
“I got it, Mama,” James said, coming up beside her. A second later, the jar opened with a pop.
“You see?” May said. “This is why you can’t leave me. I need those strong hands.”
“Is that all I’m good for to you?” The words teased, but his brow had a faint furrow as we took our seats.
The table was rectangular, but only three places had been set: two on one side, one on the other. James took the chair he was closest to. I was nearest to the one next to it, but I hesitated, then went around the table to take the loner chair.
My eyes met James’s as I sat down, and my insides wriggled with guilt. I was trying to walk this impossibly bouncy tightrope of not betraying Ryan by making James feel like everything was just hunky-dory and not being a vengeful human to people I was technically trying to help.
I could only be grateful James would be gone soon, relieving both of us of this awkwardness.
We passed each dish around the table, filling our plates, while May asked about the progress we’d both made in the sugar shack.
When I let her know that James had cleaned the entire kitchen, she shot him a close-lipped smile full of affection, as if to say good boy.
There was a contentedness in her tonight, and it was clear that the source was James. She couldn’t stop looking at him, her eyes warm and proud.
Of course she was overjoyed to have him here. Thinking of all the time she spent alone made my heart ache.
She brought up the unfortunate cupboard situation and apologized about the latch, which Archer had fixed when he’d first moved to Autumn Ridge a few years back.
“I’ll have to take it up with him, then,” I said, cutting into a dumpling. “My perfect hiding spot, forever ruined.”
“Maybe that’s for the best, darlin’,” May said. “We had plenty of mishaps durin’ hide-and-seek. I seem to remember one time when you and Archer”—she directed a stern look at James—“thought you’d hide up in the maples. Your father had to climb up and help you both down.”
James’s mouth lifted at one edge. “He didn’t help us down, Mama. He stayed at the bottom and, when both of us were too scared to come down, he got out his stopwatch and timed us, promising to give the fastest one his dessert.”
May tried to suppress a smile. “Well, your father was always a bit unconventional, wasn’t he? Who won?”
“Archer. But then Ryan wanted to—” He cut himself off.
It was quiet. Tense and quiet.
“Well,” May said, “at least you learned somethin’, right?”
James didn’t respond.
The conversation was the reminder I needed that this dinner was meant to be about business—not nostalgic reminiscing bound to turn sour.
“I have a couple of questions for you, May,” I said. “About the farm.”
“Let’s have ‘em,” she said.
“I’m wondering how many visitors you expect this season. It’d be nice to have an idea how much product we could sell. I don’t want you to end up with too many pastries instead of too much syrup.”
“Oh, darlin’,” she said with a grimacing smile. “We have enough maple on hand for many seasons. You don’t need to worry about that. We used to plan on about eight hundred visitors, but the numbers have been dwindlin’ for the past few years.” She took a bite of chicken.
James scrubbed a hand over his jaw, and I wondered if May meant for the past eight years.
“What if we didn’t limit the goods to farm visitors?” I asked.
May chewed for a few seconds. “I’m not sure I follow, darlin’.”
I lifted my shoulders. “We could sell at the Harvest Festival—syrup too, of course. Maybe ask a couple of local businesses if they’d like to carry some goods?
Little impulse buys at the cash register.
We want the pastries to be fresh, of course, but it wouldn’t take long for me to do a delivery every couple of days.
If we package them nicely, it could be good marketing for the farm. ”
May reached across the table for my hand. “You’re an angel, Sadie Stevenson. But you’re doin’ plenty already. You have a life and job outside of Carver Maple Farm.”
“Well,” I said as she released my hand, “I won’t be working as many hours at the bakery, so I have more time than I normally would. And it’s not like it’s totally selfless, right? I’d be benefiting as well.”
In fact, I’d done the math, and I needed this venture to be profitable, especially with my future at the bakery up in the air.
May considered me. “Given how much of the work you’d be doin’, we’d need to revisit the question of just how much you’d be benefitin’.
I’m afraid I wouldn’t be very helpful with these ideas for expansion.
People don’t quite know what to do with me, but you’re Autumn Ridge, through and through. They’ll be happy to say yes to you.”
I glanced at James, whose interlocked fingers covered his mouth.
“Carver Maple Farm is an integral part of Autumn Ridge, Mrs. Carver,” I said. “Your success is the town’s success.”
“Well, of course I agree with you,” she replied with a smile, “but it remains to be seen if others see it that way.”
We finished up with dinner, and though May insisted I not worry about dishes, I helped anyway. James had done the same for me with my mess in the sugar shack—twice over, in fact—so it was the least I could do.
After that was done, May took out the plate of cream puffs to sample. James and I gave her no indication what the differences were between the dough and filling combinations, so we shared a smile when she chose the very dark dough and amber filling as her favorite.
First product: confirmed.
“I’ll be working on a different option tomorrow,” I said as May walked me to the door. “I’ve got to do some work at the stables first, but that shouldn’t take too long.” I turned to look at her. “Thank you so much for a delicious dinner, Mrs. Carver.”
She pulled me into a hug. “You’re always welcome in this home, Miss Sadie. I’d invite you for dinner tomorrow, but I’ll be takin’ James to the airport.”
I nodded, my gaze flicking behind her for any sign of James, but he wasn’t there.
I had no idea whether I’d see him before he left town—but I also didn’t know what I’d say if I did.
His visit to Autumn Ridge had made my feelings ten times more confusing. Half of me was curious to settle the confusion, while the other half knew it was best to leave things be.
But I kind of wished I’d been able to say goodbye this time.