Page 47 of Love and Lattes at Pumpkin Hollow
‘It’s always been like that,’ Sabrina agreed as we walked over to her parked car so she could head home for the night.
‘I want to stay,’ I said quietly, my voice mingled in with the gentle breeze.
‘We’ll find a way,’ she promised. She climbed into her car and we said goodbye then I walked into the farmhouse. My phone beeped with an email as I headed for the kitchen.
Hi Willow, I was given your number by Dylan Henderson. I would love to come and do a piece about your pumpkin patch for the local paper and our website. Would Monday at 2 p.m. be okay for me to come by with our photographer and speak to you?
It was quickly followed by another email – this time from a woman whose name I vaguely recognised.
Hi Willow, I have been speaking to Dylan Henderson who I went to school with. I am always looking for places I can visit to vlog for my YouTube channel and other social media and I am a huge fan of pumpkin patches. He thought that I could come by to see yours if you’re happy for me to take some content while I’m there?
I stared at my phone, pausing before I went into the kitchen. Dylan had been contacting people about the patch. Before he walked away today, or afterwards? Either way, it was surprising that he cared enough to try to get publicity. Once again, I was confused by how much he seemed to want to help the patch be successful when it wasn’t in his interest to do so. And went against his boast to his brother about me being definitely ready to sell the farm to them. I had no idea what the truth really was.
How did Dylan feel about the farm and me? Maybe now I’d never know.
Scrolling to the pumpkin patch website Dylan had made, I checked ticket sales and they had gone up to fifty. My heart leapt. Then a text message came through from female Pat explaining the increase.
Pat has spread the word while we were at the farm today, letting everyone know that coming to the patch will save the farm and keep you and your dad in Birchbrook. See you tomorrow! Keep the faith!
‘Willow, you okay? You look… stunned,’ Dad said, standing in the kitchen doorway, frowning to find me stood there staring down at my phone.
‘I am a little bit,’ I told him but I smiled. ‘Maybe it will be all right. People really do want to help us, don’t they?’
‘I think we should have told people we were in trouble sooner,’ Dad said. ‘We’re both a bit stubborn, aren’t we, love? Come on, let’s have some food, and a glass of wine feels in order.’
‘Good idea.’ I remembered my mum telling me that my stubbornness came from my father. I followed him, wondering if she was looking down at us and having a little giggle at my dad saying that.
36
I woke up at dawn after a restless night.
My brain wouldn’t stop thinking about everything that had happened over the past couple of days. It was like I was on an emotional roller coaster. One minute, I had been so excited about the pumpkin patch and curled up in Dylan’s arms like we had been starting something special then both had been ripped from under my feet, leaving me unsteady and unsure.
And then everyone had stepped in and it looked like maybe we could pull off the patch but it was still touch and go, especially when it came to getting enough people onto the farm to turn a profit and pay off some of our debts. Dylan was nowhere to be seen or heard although he had clearly been doing some things to try to help from wherever he was now. I had no idea what the day was going to bring and part of me wanted to stay in bed, pull the covers over me and pretend Sunday hadn’t arrived.
Then I heard my dad get up and go downstairs, greeting Maple as he walked into the kitchen, turning on the lights and then switching on the kettle – something I’d heard every day for so many years. That made me sit up and throw the covers back because this might be the last month that I would hear those sounds if I didn’t get out of bed too.
After a quick shower, I pulled on my leggings, a long jumper, a thick scarf and put my hair into a bun then I went downstairs ready to drink a very large mug of coffee.
‘How are you feeling today, love?’ Dad asked me gently as I leaned against the kitchen counter to take a big gulp of coffee. He was feeding Maple and had made us scrambled eggs but I couldn’t face eating anything. I was too keyed up.
‘Ready to get started. We have to open tomorrow; this needs to work,’ I said determinedly. ‘I had a panic yesterday. I thought there was no hope but you gave me six weeks to try and I don’t want to give up until the end of October.’
Dad looked worried. ‘Maybe I put too much pressure on you; maybe it’s impossible, we’re in too much trouble and?—’
‘Dad,’ I cut him off sternly. ‘You gave me six weeks, right?’
Reluctantly, he nodded.
‘So, it isn’t over until the fat lady sings as old Jim down the pub likes to tell us every New Year’s Eve.’
Dad chuckled. ‘Yeah, old Jim loves that saying. Okay then, we have until the end of October – let’s get started.’
We smiled at one another and I finally had a sense deep down in my bones that somehow, we’d be okay, whatever happened. I glanced out of the window at the golden birch trees that were scattering their leaves, ready for new beginnings, and I wanted to be just like them.
At the sound of a car coming up the driveway, I squinted against the Sunday-afternoon sun, lifting my hand to shield my eyes to see who it was. I was alone outside of the barn, piling pumpkins into a wheelbarrow to take over to the field. We had spent the day so far finishing the clear-up job we’d started yesterday and there had been extra help today with people from the town, the word spreading that Birch Tree Farm needed saving. I’d never felt prouder to be part of Birchbrook. I still didn’t relish asking for help but I knew we couldn’t do it without our friends, and somehow, I’d return their favours, even if it took the rest of my life.
Now the polytunnel had been repaired and we’d made sure things were secured better and we could cover everything each night just in case the weather turned bad again, we set about making everything inside the best possible for people to experience. So, I was starting to bring the pumpkins over to do just that.
