Page 21 of There's Pumpkin About You
“First time a girl’s given me her number like this… interesting.”
“I’m guessing it’s the first time a girl has given you her number, period.”
He looks impressed. “Oh, okay then. She’s a feisty newbie this morning.”
“Sometimes she bites,” I joke. “Now what is it that you wanted to ask me?”
He starts on my coffee order, heating up my oat milk at the same time as putting a double shot into a cup. As he works, he talks.
“I wanted to see if you would be interested in coming with us to the town hall meeting tonight?”
“You guys have those here?”
“Nowadays, it’s only really when Sandra demands one. But they’re entertaining as fuck.”
“Should I really expose myself to potential ridicule so early?”
Jamie shrugs as he adds cinnamon syrup to my coffee. “It’ll show you’re just as brave as I thought you were.”
* * *
The Eaglewood town hall is ten times smaller than the one in Beckford, and also a hundred times older. It’s all old wood floors and grubby bathroom tiles.
Several members of the town flood inside and take a seat in the main hall which holds a bunch of foldable chairs. A few of them send me quizzical looks and I shrink into myself knowing that I really don’t have any justifiable reason to be here.
“Just ignore them,” Jamie whispers.
Moving further into the room, Jamie and I take a seat at the back, not on the last row, but a couple of rows before it. I look around and take in the sight of everyone conversing with one another. They all look serious as they discuss what I’m assuming are possible reasons for the meeting being called into action. It was nice spending the day in the café. Instead of heading back to Beckford just to come back again, I rooted myself to one of the comfy armchairs and cracked open my laptop. Thanks to Jamie’s endless supply of coffee and my noise-canceling headphones, I managed to send out invites (with a TBC on the location), confirm some of the decorations with Oakleigh, and order them to my house.
One of the women who discussed Gus in the café—Sandra, I believe—stands at the front—past middle age, she leans on her cane as she watches everyone chat and take a seat. She casts a critical eye over us all, silently—but not subtly—judging everyone around her.
Another older man stands next to her, conspicuously whispering into her ear.
“That’s Mayor Johnson,” Jamie explains. “He’s nice enough, but useless if Sandra is in the room.”
I see Nigel across the room and give him a small wave. Nigel is a kind old man who owns the florist on Main Street. As I walked to get a coffee this morning, he was nice enough to stop me and introduce himself and his wife. He waves back and when his wife sees me, she waves as well.
“Good evening, all,” Mayor Johnson greets. “Welcome to today’s meeting. Now none of us are new to how this goes, so who would like to start us off.”
Much to no one’s surprise, Sandra speaks up first. “I will.” She steps to the middle where everyone can see her. She tosses her graying blonde bob to the side. “It’s come to my attention that we may have a problem with people getting their pumpkin orders this week.”
Oh, boy.
“I felt it crucial that this town be updated and notified on the current delay on their orders, otherwise it would be considered unprofessional and uncouth on August’s part.”
The room breaks out into mumbles and the scraping of chairs as people turn around in their seats. I duck down.
“I am also aware that a certain deal has been struck between Goldleaf Farm and one”—Sandra checks a piece of paper in her hand—“Second Nature Events? Bit of an odd name if you ask me.”
Okay, well that was just uncalled for.
“August, can you please confirm both of these?”
Gus is here? I look around, but I’m unable to locate him. It’s only when a recognizable deep voice behind me says, “Thank you, Sandra, for once again airing out my business unnecessarily.”
I spin in my seat and see a mop of brown hair—a man that is instantly recognizable to me despite having his head down. Maybe it’s the way his hand grips his hair like it’s a lifeline, or the orange cast that peeks out through the plaid shirt and the two rows of people separating him from me.
Sandra, with her bloodhound-like ears, scoffs from across the room. “The town deserves to know.”
