Page 2 of There's Pumpkin About You
Now that I’m alone, I let the smile fade and the worries flood to the surface. I let it mar the smooth brown skin of my forehead and show the wrinkles that are probably already setting in at the ripe old age of twenty-seven.
I knew that leaving my old job at the dentist was a risk. Yet things with my party planning business, Second Nature Events, were picking up and it was almost impossible to juggle two full-time jobs. So, I quit. I took a chance and dived into the unknown that is being a self-employed business owner full-time. But business has been slow the past couple of months.
I know deep down that it’s the location. I’ve run the town of Beckford dry, and now there is nothing left for me here, personally or professionally. Beckford isn’t the smallest of the five towns that surround Lake Carlow, but it’s small enough that there really isn’t much need for a party planner when you can easily hire out city hall any time. When I started, the hype of having someone to help host the “best party the town had ever seen” was what helped me get my name out there, but now people realize that they still have to pay me at the end of it. And yet, this is where I remain, glued to this house by the memories I’ve made in it.
My engagement ending hasn’t helped since everyone in town knows Adam and me, but it has been a temporary—albeit confidence-slashing—hindrance.
It’s okay, though. A dry spell is never forever. At least that’s what my dad always tells me. It’s going to take a lot more than a diminishing business and a failed relationship to make Wren Southwick give up! Things will get better, especially with this chance that Oakleigh is giving me. Instead of wallowing in self-pity, I plan to use Oakleigh’s party as a rebranding opportunity, a chance to both put a smile on my best friend’s face and get my name out there again.
Since sleep seems to want to evade me, I take a seat at my breakfast bar and crack open my laptop. I’m fueled by determination and a refreshed outlook—and, possibly, all the sugar from the snacks—so nothing is making me tired for at least another hour.
Oakleigh is the definition of extroverted, so her guest list is going to be long. I’ll need a large space for the event and that means that city hall isn’t going to cut it. I need somewhere new, somewhere with potential.
I pull up the link that Oakleigh had sent me.
It’s a quaint farm with a surprisingly large amount of land attached. Even though the pictures have been taken in what looks to be the summer sun, the land is still overrun with a fall-like hue—gold-colored leaves, hay bales scattered in the distance, and, at the heart of it all, a rustic red and blue barn that needs some love.
A photo of three men catches my attention. Three outrageously attractive men, all of whom are smiling as if they don’t have a single care in the world. I see why Oakleigh’s cousin had chosen this place. All three guys look completely different, and yet you can tell they are related. Their smiles carry the same hint of mischief, their eyes lit up with the same lighthearted glint.
Except for the guy on the end. There’s something about him that I can’t quite put my finger on. Something about the small dip on the side of his lip that tells me he’s not as genuine as his relatives’. Something to do with the way his free hand is clenched at his side as if something about the situation has him wanting it to end just as quickly as it began.
He’s the most handsome of the three, that’s for sure, with sandy brown hair that looks caramel in the sun, brown eyes that hold a softer glint than his companions, and a strain to his plaid shirt that tells me there’s more underneath it than you’d originally imagine. The man is huge, big enough to lift his biggest pumpkin right over his head without breaking a sweat. Wide, imposing shoulders fill out the fabric with ease, giving him a formidable presence that I can feel even through the screen.
I shake all thoughts from my mind, reminding myself sternly that after leaving my cheating ex less than six months ago, the last thing I need is another man.
I click through the menu to:About Our Farm.
Goldleaf Farm was established by the original Finch brothers back in 1941. Their vision began with nothing more than an acre of land, and a handful of pumpkin seeds—an active attempt to help their fellow soldiers during the war effort. Now, thanks to the efforts of three generations worth of Finches, including Edward Finch’s three great-grandsons—Samuel, Sebastian and August—Goldleaf Farm is now the proud owner of three acres of prime land, mainly focused on the production of pumpkins, corn and the maintenance of their collection of rescued animals.
Goldleaf Farm are happy to provide all of your pumpkin needs, whether that be for some Halloween carvin’, or some good old-fashioned pumpkin pie, there’s something for everyone down here on the farm.
“He looks like an August,” I think aloud as I catch sight of another photo of the three brothers, this time surrounding a man who looks to be in his late seventies or eighties. The first two from earlier are hunched down so they are level with the seated older man, but the last one—whom I assume is August—remains standing, no longer bothering to hide his displeasure as he barely smiles at all this time.
I look up the opening times for the farm and see they will be open tomorrow from 8am until 5pm, which is perfect. I shoot Oakleigh a message to say that I’m going to visit the place tomorrow and she replies not five minutes later to tell me she wishes she could come too.
After some quick research into potential event spaces in the neighboring towns, I snap my laptop shut with a yawn and head upstairs to bed. The thick winter duvet soon swallows me and I immediately feel myself drifting off, the thrill of finally getting back into planning fluttering in my chest.
ChapterTwo
WREN
This morning, before heading over to Eaglewood, I take a minute to mentally prepare myself for today. I consider calling the farm just to make sure that they’re open, knowing that sometimes smaller businesses have to occasionally swap and change hours due to low staff.
In the end, I follow my gut, which tells me going there might make a better impression. If placing an order goes well with them this time, maybe I can make them a supplier for future events. The best way to do that is to show them that Second Nature Events is a company that can be taken seriously.
Usually, it’s times like this that I would call my parents and ask them for advice. They’re the most loving parents a girl could ask for, and they’ve always done everything they can to make me feel loved and wanted. I think they wanted to show the love they worried Finn and I missed out on when we became orphans at the ages of three and five. But now, after two decades of having to clean up my messes, I want to give them a break, for once, especially after the whole Adam incident.
When we all found out about his other girlfriend in another town, my parents insisted I come back to live with them whilst Adam packed up his stuff and moved out. Since he decided to take his sweet time doing so, I ended up living at home for two whole months. Should I have pushed him to get his ass out sooner? Of course, but my parents enjoyed being needed, and if I’m being honest, after that breakup, it was nice to feel wanted.
Currently, they’re on a cruise around the Caribbean for their anniversary and I’m determined to only ever call them with good news. So, until this party is guaranteed to be a success, I’m avoiding calling them.
Not long after I hop into my SUV and start the drive to Eaglewood, my phone starts to ring on the car’s Bluetooth system.
“Hey, biatch,” I greet my best friend.
“Hey hey” she replies, sounding very chirpy for someone who is hours into a thirteen-hour shift at the hospital. “Are you there yet? I spoke to my cousin about it this morning and she said that this farm is seriously a hidden gem.”
“I can see why she said that.” I chuckle. “Have you seen the photos on the website?”
