Chapter 9
The Pumpkin Problem
The pumpkins arrived on a Thursday morning in a truck that could not fit down Cedar Street.
Lucy looked at Ben.
"I hate how useful you are."
He wiped his hands on his jeans. "You're welcome."
The pumpkin contest took place that afternoon. Families arrived with carving tools, markers, and opinions. Mr. Alvarez served as judge because he claimed retirement had finally given him the authority to be unfair.
Ben spent most of the event fixing wobbly tables.
Lucy spent most of it pretending she was not aware of where he was.
That became difficult when he appeared beside her carrying a pumpkin.
"We need an entry."
"We are staff."
"You're staff. I'm unpaid labor."
"That does not make you eligible."
"Coward."
Lucy took the pumpkin.
"Fine."
They found a corner table.
"What are we carving?" Ben asked.
Lucy drew a quick sketch on a scrap of paper.
"A stack of books with a moon behind it."
Ben stared at the drawing.
"That seems unnecessarily difficult."
"You called me a coward."
"I retract the statement."
"Too late."
They worked side by side, arguing over angles and pumpkin structural integrity. Ben cut. Lucy corrected. He ignored half her corrections. She made him redo one entire section.
"You know," he said, "this is the most controlling date I've ever been on."
Lucy nearly dropped the carving knife.
Ben froze.
The noise of the courtyard seemed to pull away from them.
"This is not a date," she said.
"I know."
He looked at the pumpkin.
"Bad joke."
"Right."
Lucy focused on scraping seeds she had already removed.
Ben's ears had turned slightly red.
That should not have pleased her.
It did.
They finished the pumpkin just before judging.
Mr. Alvarez inspected it with great seriousness.
"Technically impressive," he said. "Emotionally confusing."
"It's a book stack," Lucy said.
"It looks like a haunted sandwich."
Ben laughed so hard he had to lean against the table.
Lucy tried to stay offended and failed.
They did not win.
A seven-year-old with a pumpkin painted entirely purple took first place.
After cleanup, Ben carried their losing pumpkin to the front desk.
"What are you doing?"
"Keeping it."
"Why?"
"It's our first collaborative failure."
Lucy stared at him.
"You are sentimental about a haunted sandwich?"
"Very."
He placed it beside the returns bin.
That evening, every time Lucy passed the pumpkin, she smiled.
She was beginning to understand that the most dangerous thing about Ben was not that she had once loved him.
It was that she could imagine doing it again.
At the end of the pumpkin contest, the volunteers gathered around the winning entries for photographs. Ben stood beside Lucy while a local reporter asked questions about the festival.
"How long have you two been organizing this together?" the reporter asked.
Lucy opened her mouth.
Ben answered first. "Three weeks."
The reporter blinked. "Really? You work like you've been doing it for years."
Lucy laughed awkwardly. "We've known each other for years."
"Ah." The reporter smiled in a way Lucy did not trust. "That explains it."
It explained nothing.
Later, Lucy found the photographer taking candid pictures near the pumpkin display. One frame caught Ben holding their ridiculous carved pumpkin while Lucy laughed beside him.
"Can I send you this one?" the photographer asked.
Lucy almost said no.
Instead, she gave her email.
That night, the photograph arrived.
Lucy saved it to her phone.
She did not post it. She did not send it to Mara. She did not make a joke about it.
She simply looked at it longer than she should have.
Ben looked happy.
So did she.
The image made something difficult feel visible.
Lucy locked her phone and put it face down.
She had become very good at controlling what she did.
Her feelings remained unimpressed by the system.