5 Lattes #2
I slid the letter under my pillow along with my notebooks and walked back into the kitchen.
I went straight to the pile of mail again and, well, somehow I’d missed it before: the previous version of the letter I’d just read.
Thin and white and now impossible to ignore, it had been here all along. Definitely not a scam.
“Willa? Are you back from your run?” Pop was hanging his coat by the door. “Ah, there you are.” Then he saw what I was reading.
But I couldn’t talk about this right now.
“I’m heading to the Acorn now,” I told him.
“And I’ll see you at the festival later?”
That made me stop, because Pop never went to Harvest Festival. As friendly as he was to everyone in the neighborhood, town events weren’t usually his kind of thing.
“You’re coming?” I was sure he saw that I looked surprised.
But he acted all casual, like nothing was up. “Thought I’d give it a go this year, see what all the fuss is about. You seem to have been working extra hard to make it special.”
I opened the door and smiled. “Thanks, Pop. I’ll see you later.”
When I got to the coffee shop there was already a sign on the door.
CLOSED THIS AFTERNOON
SEE Y’ALL AT HARVEST FEST! ?
The bubble-writing and the smiley face made me grin. I couldn’t imagine James sitting down to design that. And then, bam, there he was. Walking toward the door in a burgundy hoodie and light blue jeans. Gorgeous. He opened the door and pulled me in gently by the edge of my scarf.
“Quick, I want to show you something.” James led me into the back room, where the shelves were stacked with napkins and takeout cartons.
And without another word he took my face in his hands and maneuvered me so my back was against the shelves.
He kissed me and I felt my whole body relax. I breathed him in. Woody, spicy. Sexy.
“Well, that was unexpected.” The other day there’d been the flirting but no more kissing. Part of me wondered if James had regretted it or something, but now it seemed there was no reason to worry. He wanted this as much as I did.
“Sorry. You just. Well …” He found my eyes and I stared right back.
I looked at my watch. “We should get out there.”
“I think I’d rather stay here.”
“Come!” I grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the storeroom. James sighed and mumbled something about needing more coffee.
“Are you okay? You look tired.”
“Thanks, Red.” James rolled his eyes. “What a compliment.”
I put my hand on his shoulder and never wanted to take it away. “Sorry. What I meant to say was, were you up late?”
“I was, actually. I’ve been fixing up the shed so it’s more like a tiny house. Just trying to make it a bit more my own, I guess. Since I’m here for a while now.” James shrugged and stabbed his finger into a button on the coffee machine.
“Hey, let me do it.” I took over and James smiled gratefully.
As I made us both coffee, I thought about what to say. Here for a while now. Making it his own … Did this mean he was staying for good? What happened to April?
“Well, if you need any help just let me know. I’m very good with a drill.” It was true, thanks to Pop.
“Of course you are. You’re full of surprises, Willa Taylor.”
And then he got back to business. “Okay, here’s the plan so far,” he said.
He reached across me and handed me the notebook that laid out everything we’d been planning.
“Hot cider here, and the maple pecan donuts, apple muffins, and snickerdoodles here. If we run the photo booth, do you think your friends could handle the food and drinks?”
I nodded, delighted by his enthusiasm, such a contrast to when we’d first met. His eyes were shining. “My dad wanted to do it. Said he’d just sit behind the stall on a chair all night, but Mom wouldn’t let him.”
“No worries,” I assured him. “The girls are all set to help. Lennie’s bringing the photo booth backdrop over this afternoon, and Krista’s bringing a load of costumes she borrowed from the school theater.”
“Great. And here’s the list of prices. All the tips and five percent of what we make tonight will go toward your Kissing Tree …”
“My Kissing Tree?” I asked. “My name’s not even on it.”
He put the notebook down and moved closer to me.
“Maybe we should change that.” He turned me toward the storeroom so his wide shoulders blocked me completely from the view of any customers who might come in early. Then he tilted my chin toward his and kissed me gently, igniting fireworks all over again.
James drove Geoff’s truck into the square to set up, and I had to admit I found being in the truck seriously hot. Like I was seeing another little piece of him, the piece that was strong and independent, almost adult.
By the time we got there, the square was already full of local businesses setting up tables, stalls, and canopies.
James and I set up ours together, though he did most of the heavy lifting and I just tried not to stare.
Lennie, Krista, and Avery showed up just as we’d finished.
“Oh, convenient,” I teased them as I wiped my brow. “Arriving as soon as all the prep is done.”
“Well, if all the prep is done then you wouldn’t want this, would you?
” Lennie walked toward me with a huge backdrop.
She’d painted the Kissing Tree in its full fall glory, copper beech leaves blazing orange and red in a twilight sky, with little heart carvings visible in the bark.
It was beautiful, and perfect, and so perfectly Oak Falls.
“Oh, Lennie, it’s amazing!” I gushed, and helped her carry it over to the space I’d created for the photo booth. I piled pumpkins all around, draping them with string lights and fall leaves.
Then Krista dropped a box by my feet. “There you go, Will. My work here is done. I’m on Carter watch tonight, seeing that you’ve decided to pick your other man. I’ll take the scraps.” I shushed her in case James heard, but she just kept scanning the town square. “Has anyone seen him?”
Lennie was doing her own scanning.
“She here yet?” I whispered.
“She said she’d come early and meet me by your stall, but she was a bit weird when I messaged her earlier.” Lennie looked disappointed.
“Text messages can be strange, though, it’s not like you can pick up someone’s tone …”
“I guess you’re right. Anyway, if you see us together, remember we’re incognito.”
“Of course,” I assured her.
“Hey, Red, want me to set up the camera?” James appeared beside me and I smiled involuntarily.
Lennie arched an eyebrow. “Red? Like the color of your cheeks right about now?”
“Shut up!”
“Hold on. Red? James Parker. It’s all coming back to me.” Lennie mimed her head exploding. “James from the Kissing Tree! Will!”
“What?” I tried to hide my grin by looking away, but she’d already spotted it.
“You’ve got it bad … and I love it. This was meant to be.”
The evening started to pick up steam, as Lennie, Krista, and Avery manned the hot cider and snack stall. (Well, mostly Lennie and Avery … Krista was still looking for Carter.)
James and I were on photo booth duty, and of course we had to test it out first. The whole photo booth was James’s idea.
He told me how he used to be really into photography, then showed me all these photos he’d taken in Indiana.
The light through the trees, mist on the lake at dawn, weathered barns under endless blue skies.
You could tell he really saw things, but something in his expression told me not to ask too many questions.
So I put a top hat on his head and stood on my tiptoes to tie a black cloak around his neck. I took my time tying the knot, letting my eyes settle on his Adam’s apple, which moved gently as he spoke. “Why have you dressed me like a magician?” he asked me.
I shrugged. “Dunno.” I felt as bold as he’d been earlier today.
“Maybe I just wanted an excuse to touch you.” And before he could respond, I fastened a curly blond wig to my head and put on a crown.
James set a timer for our shot, and I leaned into him, and we looked at each other just before the flash went off.
Unplanned, charged. A perfect coincidence. I couldn’t wait to see the pic.
James took off the top hat and ran his hand through his hair. “Nice to take some photos again,” he said, exhaling, as if something heavy had lifted from his shoulders.
“Yeah? You’re great at it.”
James laughed. “Well, I was. But then I kind of ended up just taking Instagram photos with the right aesthetic. But you, Willa Taylor, there’s something about you that makes me want to be me again …”