Page 36 of Love and Lattes at Pumpkin Hollow
Dylan hurried after me and gently took my arm, encouraging me to slow down. I stopped. ‘Look at me, please.’ Reluctantly, I lifted my face and met his eyes. ‘Have I ever once said I don’t want you to ask me for help?’
‘But you shouldn’t be helping; you don’t want this to work,’ I said, wondering why I suddenly felt on the verge of tears. My mind flashed back to his lips on mine but I stubbornly pushed the image away from my mind. I couldn’t ever think about that again. Dylan was here to get me to sell the farm. He wanted me to give up, right?
Dylan shook his head. ‘It’s a complicated situation, for sure. But I like helping you. I can’t seem to stop myself.’ His hand was still on my arm and he gave me an almost fond smile. It was so confusing. ‘Come and see…’ He let go and my body instantly missed his touch although I tried desperately to ignore that. I followed him out of the tunnel and across to the cottage where his laptop was open, as usual, on the kitchen table. ‘I started to make this…’
I stared at the screen. He had created a website for Pumpkin Hollow at Birch Tree Farm: a dazzling orange and cream themed page with space for pictures of the pumpkin patch and the ability to book online for a slot to visit. He then showed me new social media accounts he’d set up and ideas for hashtags we could ask people to use when sharing their pictures. ‘I had a look at the nearest pumpkin patches to here and what they charge and I think this is fitting for your first year. Then this is what the farmer wants us to charge for his pumpkins and then this is the cost for the smaller ones you ordered. You could reduce the price per pumpkin if people buy more so it would look like this…’ He showed me the spreadsheet he’d created with the prices, which I looked at in awe. I guessed I could have come up with this with time and research, but he had really made my life a whole lot easier by doing this himself. I struggled for what to say. I felt grateful but was anxious about being obliged to him.
‘I get worried when you’re quiet,’ Dylan said after a moment, frowning as he looked at me. It was as if he was trying to work out what was going on inside my head. Which made two of us.
‘Are you doing this so I feel like I need to sell to you?’ I blurted out.
‘How does helping you make the patch successful do that exactly?’ he asked slowly, his voice tight like I’d upset him.
I sighed. ‘I don’t know, Dylan. This is confusing. Things between us are confusing after…’ I abruptly stopped myself. Neither of us had said any more about our night together. I took a breath. ‘Sorry, this is just really nice of you; it’s making me feel a little bit discombobulated.’
Dylan nodded. ‘It’s okay. I know we want different things here. But I also like helping you. That’s all this was, I swear.’ He sounded sincere.
‘What would your brother say though about you going above and beyond for me?’
‘He doesn’t get what I’m doing here, that’s for sure.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘But to be honest, I’m not sure he ever really gets me.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said softly. ‘Sometimes, my dad has made me feel like he wished I was different, that I’d change, that I’m too much of a dreamer.’
‘Yeah, Nate thinks I should be more like him, I know that.’
I thought back to him speaking to Nate on the phone and how different he had sounded. ‘Maybe you shouldn’t help the pumpkin patch so much then,’ I suggested. I knew that wasn’t good for me but I also hated the hurt look in his eyes when he talked about his brother not believing in him. I knew that feeling well. I was worried I’d let my dad down, and my mother too.
‘He doesn’t know what I’m doing here,’ Dylan said with a shrug. ‘You want to post on social media about the patch?’
‘Saying what?’ I asked, panicked by the idea.
‘You took a good picture yesterday of Sabrina’s sign once we fixed it up by the gate to show her.’
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and looked at it. It showed the Pumpkin Hollow sign with the farm behind it, the birch trees in shot looking beautiful as they were now almost completely golden in colour and you could also just make out Maple by the farmhouse door. It was a pretty picture if I did say so myself. ‘It would be a good start,’ I agreed. I sank into the chair at the kitchen table and put my phone on the table. I added Dylan’s Birch Tree Farm accounts to my phone and I created my first posts using the caption:
Pumpkin Hollow: Birch Tree Farm’s Pumpkin Patch is opening 1 October.
With shaky fingers, I shared the post everywhere and then both Dylan and I reposted it from our personal accounts. I asked Sabrina to do so as well and I would ask the café too when I went in next. I sucked in a breath. ‘I guess there’s no going back now, is there?’ I glanced at Dylan and he was giving me a pleased smile. I smiled back and had a crazy thought that I wished we’d met under completely different circumstances so there were no complications between us.
But life wasn’t that simple.
28
The final week of September was rushing autumn into town. I walked down the High Street with Maple on Wednesday morning and looked down at my feet, smiling to see pretty coloured leaves crunching under my boots as I walked. Orange maple leaves and golden birch tree leaves with even a scarlet red and rusty brown colour mingled in. Change lingered in the air with the promise of new beginnings not far behind. I hoped this season was going to be good to me and the farm.
Maple let out a bark then when a large, yellow leaf landed on the tip of her nose. She jerked her head and it floated off, making me chuckle. More pumpkins had been added to shop doorways in the High Street, most businesses having decorated now as we edged towards October. I looked carefully at them as I walked past and was sure that the ones I’d be selling were better quality, and I hoped visitors would realise that too.
I also saw shiny conkers having burst open as they hit the ground and I picked up a few and put them in my Barbour jacket pocket, thinking I’d put them in a bowl in the farmhouse to deter spiders like I’d done when I was younger. I had just picked up the leaflets and posters from the printers and was going to ask some of the businesses here to display them for me, starting with the café.
Pushing open the door, the smell of cinnamon and coffee hit me. It was mid-morning so the early rush had cleared and lunch was yet to start so it wasn’t busy.
‘Morning,’ I greeted female Pat as I made my way to the counter, Maple bouncing at my heels, clearly hoping for a treat. To be fair to her, my stomach rumbled on cue too.
‘Willow, how is everything going? I was hoping you’d come in. I went through the van with Paul last night and we’ve come up with some things to sell at the farm. He is willing to be there every day for three hours from 2 to 5 p.m., to make the most of the after-school time until half-term and then we can see how it’s going and change the times if it’ll be busier earlier in the day that week.’ She slid a small menu across the table. ‘What do you think?’
I glanced at it. They would be offering visitors pumpkin spiced lattes, autumnal hot chocolates, coffee with pumpkin or vanilla syrup, if wanted, tea, and then a selection of cake and sweet treats – pumpkin pie, pumpkin spiced muffins, apple and cinnamon cake, banana bread and a cupcake of the day. My mouth started watering. ‘Wow, this looks amazing; I’ll be your best customer, I think.’ I pulled out a poster and a stack of leaflets from the satchel slung across my body. ‘I was wondering if you could display these, please; maybe we can get your customers to come along. Do you think I’m charging an okay amount? I’m worried no one will want to pay to come but I need to charge an entry fee if I have any hope of, well, keeping the farm,’ I said, still nervous being honest about what a predicament we were in, but Dylan had been right when he said I needed help, so people should know the truth.
Pat screwed up her face in sympathy. ‘I really hope this works for you, Willow. I think that’s a reasonable amount for entry and then people can either spend more on pumpkins or just have a nice day out. We would have come along with Paul when he was younger, I’d say. We loved coming to the farm in summer so I don’t see why people wouldn’t enjoy this just as much. We are all autumn fans in this town.’ She dropped me a wink and I smiled back, glad she thought this could work.
