An Autumn Stroll: An Inspirational Romance Page 2

  That didn’t matter now. What did matter was giving their guests an outstanding experience, and that wouldn’t be accomplished by an hour’s wait in the hayride line. She unhooked the carabiner from her belt loop and singled out the key she needed, unlocked the storeroom.

  She hurried to the shelf where they kept apple cider from a neighboring orchard and grabbed several bottles before crossing the room to where the paper goods were stored. She pulled a package of sample cups off the shelf, then went outside.

  Alec had just come to a stop, and Paige deposited the items in the back of the cart. She ran back inside and took several bags of apple chips out of a bin. After tossing them carefully next to the other products, she jumped in the passenger seat. “Let’s go.”

  As Alec drove, she made a list on her phone of the products she’d taken so they could be marked out of inventory this evening. The monetary loss was small compared to what they stood to lose from unhappy customers.

  The cart hadn’t come to a complete stop before Paige waved her younger sister over.

  Missy, wearing braids and overalls to play the part of a farm girl, hurried to her. “What are we going to do? They're getting restless.”

  Paige pointed to the supplies. “I brought apple cider and chips. Can you start handing out samples while I talk to Mark?”

  A relieved sigh escaped Missy. “Great idea. You’re awesome.”

  “Let’s see if it works first.” She shot her sister a nervous smile, then went in search of Mark.

  He had the tractor hood up and his head underneath, fumbling with something on the engine—she couldn’t give technical names of the parts if she tried.

  She approached from the opposite side, giving him the chance to spot her without being stunned and accidentally jerking his head up to collide on the metal. “What’s going on?”

  Mark stepped back and stood upright. “Nothing I can’t fix, but I have to remove several parts to get to the problem.”

  “How much longer until you’re done?” She fought the urge to press a hand against her hip.

  “Twenty minutes tops.” Sweat beaded on his forehead, a sign he’d been working hard to fix the issue.

  “Why didn’t we have a backup?” The question came out before she could stop it despite the fact she’d promised herself she’d wait until later to ask.

  “We did, but Josh noticed the hitch had broken. It’s not safe to use as is, but Statter’s Supply has one on hold for us.” He twisted his lips. “Didn’t think it would be an issue to wait until Monday.”

  All the negative feelings toward her brothers faded away when she realized she’d been wrong about them. “I owe you and Josh an apology for all the bad thoughts I’ve had in the last ten minutes.”

  Mark laughed and tilted his head toward the tractor. “Anything else before I get back to this?”

  “No. I brought apple cider and snacks to hand out. Hopefully, that will keep everyone happy.” She slapped a hand to her cheek. “What about our guests already at the patch?”

  “Josh is on it. He drove down on a cart and announced there would be a delay, offered to bring back anyone in a hurry on the cart.” Mark gave a pointed look to the walkie-talkie clipped to his pocket. “I heard from him right before you came over, and he said everyone’s content wandering through the fields and climbing the haystacks.”

  “Good.” Relief flooded her. So far, the breakdown hadn’t been the catastrophe she’d first imagined. Thank you, Lord, for understanding guests.

  She returned to the line and helped Missy hand out the treats. The cider and apple chips were a hit among the patrons. Many thanked Paige after she handed them each a sample, and only one person complained—a tired-looking mom with two small children.

  Understanding the customer’s frustration, Paige apologized profusely. “If you’d like to enjoy the other activities we offer while you wait, I’d be happy to gift you a pass that allows you first access to the next ride.”

  The woman’s face softened. “I’ll wait here, but thank you.”

  “What is your name, ma’am?”

  “Becky Davis.” The mom pointed to the tallest child, then the other. “These are my daughters, Haleigh and Shana.”

  Paige smiled at them and knelt. “Do you like ponies?”

  “Yes.” Haleigh’s head bobbed with enthusiasm. “Shana and I love them.”

  “Did you know we have pony rides here?”

  Shana’s eyes turned to saucers. “Really?”

  “If it’s okay with your mom, you can each have a ride, compliments of the farm.” Paige stood to her feet, amused by the wonder on the girls’ faces. She’d never forget the thrill of riding on a pony as a young child.

  “Can we, Mom?” Haleigh clasped her hands together in a plea.

  Becky nodded. “We’ll do that after we choose our pumpkins.”

  Satisfaction spilled into Paige. Although she’d rather not have any unhappy customers, she found pleasure in reversing any negativity. “I’ll leave your name at the ticket booth. Whenever you’re ready, stop by there and they’ll have tokens waiting for you.”

  “That’s very kind of you. Thank you.” Becky’s smile contradicted the sadness in her eyes. “I’m sorry for snapping a few minutes ago. The girls miss their daddy who’s deployed, and they were up all night. I’m exhausted, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

  “No apology needed. We want all our guests to have a good time in an efficient manner.” She nodded her head in the direction of the tractor. “It shouldn’t be much longer.”

  Paige moved toward the end of the line until she found the next customer who hadn’t been served yet. While she’d been talking to Becky, Missy had taken care of most of the other guests. She saw a little girl with dark chestnut hair that matched that of the man standing next to her, but he faced away. The girl’s dad? A middle-aged woman also stood with them.

  “Would you care for a sample of cider and apple chips?” She extended the plastic plate she used for a tray.

  The lady took a set of samples and handed them to the girl, then took a set for herself. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Would you like some, sir?” she asked the man as he turned around. Her mouth gaped when she saw his face and recognized him. “It’s you.”

  He squinted his eyes and stared at her. “Who?”

  Inhaling a gulp of fresh air, she felt all the anger from that day two weeks ago rush back into her being. She hadn’t realized that day how attractive he was. His hair color nearly matched hers and was cropped short. Soulful brown eyes peered at her, as though trying to remember how he could know her, while his cupid’s bow mouth twisted into confusion.

  Stop thinking he’s cute. He’s a jerk, and that takes precedence over any good genes he inherited. Besides, that girl is likely his daughter which means he’s probably married which means you have no business noticing him. For a split-second, she contemplated tossing the rest of the cider in small cups at him, payback for what he’d caused to spill on her, but she regrouped. “You couldn’t get off your precious phone at the walking path in town and ran into me, knocking my drink from my hands. My new boots are ruined from a stain on them, thanks to you, and you couldn’t even bother to make sure I was okay.”

  “Oh.” Awareness dawned on him, and his jaw dropped.

  “Wesley Matthew Caldwell, please tell me that isn’t true.” The woman to his right narrowed her eyes. “I raised you better than that.”

  Paige couldn’t stop her smirk. Apparently, the woman was his mother and had no problem putting him in his place.

  He held out a hand in defense. “It’s true, but not how it sounds.”

  “Then how exactly was it?” She braced a hand to her hip, forgetting momentarily that he was a paying customer.

  His mom crossed her arms. “Yes, please enlighten us.”

  The little girl, oblivious to the friction between the adults, tapped on the plate. “May I have more please?”

 
Slammed into proprietor mode by a sweet voice, she forced a smile to the surface and handed the girl another cup of cider. “Yes, you may.”

  Wesley arched a brow and looked at the girl when she didn’t respond except to take the cup. “What do you say, little miss?”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “You’re welcome.” She didn’t have her answer from Wesley, but regardless of the rudeness he’d shown that day, it didn’t give her a right to treat him poorly, especially since he was a guest to the farm. “The hayride will be starting again soon. Enjoy your day.”

  “Wait. I didn’t get to explain.” Wesley tried to stop her with a gentle touch to her shoulder.

  She slid out from under his touch and rebuffed him with a backward glance. “It’s water under the bridge. I have work to attend to.”

  Chapter Four

  Mom swatted his arm. “What did you do?”

  He stared at the woman as she rushed away, keenly aware he didn’t catch her name. “It was the day things went down with Jenna. When you called me, I was running and trying to get to Jenna’s as quickly as I could.”

  “Did you really run into her?”

  “Yes.” He hadn’t noticed her then—had been too distracted and worried about Jenna—but he noticed her today. Especially her glossy dark locks tussled by the breeze. Her amber eyes that flashed with irritation when she recognized him. The long, trim legs tucked into a pair of cognac leather calf boots.

  He was an idiot.

  “What happened?” Mom hadn’t uncrossed her arms, a sure sign she wouldn’t drop the topic until she had all her answers.

  Images of that moment surfaced in his memory. The event was hazy. Most of what he remembered revolved around his fear for Jenna’s life. “You had passed the phone to Dad, and he was trying to give me updates as I ran back to my car. I remember pulling keys from my pocket and running into someone, mumbling an apology, then continuing on.”

  “You didn’t stop to make sure she was okay?” Her tone of censure cut deeper than her words.

  “I guess not.” He bit down on his bottom lip, feeling like a creep. Even though he’d been distracted for a legitimate reason, it didn’t excuse his behavior.

  Mom dropped her arms to her side. “There’s only one thing to do. Go find her and make it right.”

  “Right now?” He looked at the line that finally moved. “I’m not missing the pumpkin patch.”

  “You’re twenty-eight years old, not eight.” Mom snorted. “I think you’ll survive.”

  He rolled his eyes. “For Myla’s sake.”

  “I know, but it’s part of my mom duties to give you a hard time.” She swatted his arm for the second time. “And don’t you roll your eyes at your mother. I’m starting to wonder if I raised you so well after all.”

  “Love you, Mom.” Giving her a sideways hug, he dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Why don’t I go find her after we get our pumpkins, and you can take Myla to the barn for arts and crafts.”

  “Sounds like a perfect plan.” She paused and issued him a pointed stare. “Actually, in an ideal world, you wouldn’t have acted like an imbecile and had to apologize in the first place.”

  “I know, I know, I know.” He patted his phone in his pocket and thought of the irony—he’d always been the first to get annoyed with people whose phones took over their lives. He’d even gone on a few dates after which there wasn’t a second because the girl had spent too much time scrolling and typing. Now, he’d inadvertently joined their ranks. “It won’t happen again.”

  The line progressed, but the wagon filled when there were still five families ahead of them. They’d have to wait a bit longer, but the girl dressed in overalls assured them it wouldn’t be more than ten minutes. He kept silent on the fact he could have walked to the area five times over by now. Things happened that couldn’t be prevented, and the staff had gone above and beyond to make the wait tolerable.

  Looking around, his gaze fell on the girl corralling the line, and he noticed a strong resemblance to the girl he’d run into. Change her from a blonde to a brunette and add five years or so and they could have been twins. Were they sisters? Either way, since both girls worked at the farm, she should be able to tell him the other girl’s name.

  “I’ll be right back.” He glanced at his mom. “Will you keep an eye on Myla?”

  Her eyes crinkled with curiosity, but she didn’t ask questions. “We’re not going anywhere.”

  Taking long strides, he walked to the blonde and tapped her shoulder. “Excuse me, ma’am.”

  She made eye contact with him and smiled. “How can I help you?”

  “The lady that helped you pass out the snacks, what is her name?”

  With furrowed brows, she hesitated a second before answering. “Paige. She’s the farm’s activity coordinator. Is everything okay?”

  He nodded. “I might have been a little rude and wanted to find her to apologize.”

  “She’ll appreciate that, but good luck tracking her down.” The girl swept her arm in a wide gesture. “Her position takes her all over the farm on days we’re open to the public.”

  “Thanks for the heads up and information.” He started to pivot and return to his mom and Myla, but paused, figuring a compliment couldn’t hurt. “Nice place you all have. My niece is having a great time.”

  “I’m glad to hear.”

  Once he got back in line, only a few minutes passed before the tractor returned. Myla chose a haybale on the right side to plop down on. His mom sat on one side of her, and he took the other side. The man operating the ride gave instructions through a megaphone. The farm had three rules while on the wagon—remain seated while in motion, keep hands and arms within the frame of the wagon, and have fun.

  Myla squealed with delight when the wagon jerked forward then evened out into a bumpy ride. She picked up a handful of loose hay and threw it at him.

  He blinked when it hit his face and tickled his nose. Though he should have seen it coming, he’d been preoccupied with thoughts about Paige. Remembering the fun of a good hay fight, he grinned, scooped up what he could, and tossed it at Myla.

  His mom clucked her tongue. “I can’t take you two anywhere.”

  This time he was prepared and focused, saw the sparkle in her eye and the hand hiding behind her back. He tipped his chin. “What do you have there, Mom?”

  “This.” She swung her arm outward and tossed hay at him.

  The entire group on the wagon joined in the fun. Peals of laughter rang in the air.

  Wes sat back, watching his mom and Myla interacting with their seat neighbors. Their wide smiles and belly laughs filled his heart with happiness. The last few weeks had been rough. Months, actually. If he were honest, he could even say years. Jenna’s addiction and life issues had put a heavy strain on all of them.

  He hadn’t seen his mom enjoy herself like this in a long time, and it was long overdue. Even Myla hadn’t shown a hint of attitude since they’d arrived which was a miracle in and of itself.

  They arrived at the pumpkin patch and waited their turn to unload. He climbed off first, then lifted Myla onto the ground. Mom was the last of them to get off, and she accepted his hand to support her steps down.

  “I wanna go to the back. That’s where all the good ones still are ‘cause no one wants to walk all the way there,” Myla declared with conviction.

  He couldn’t fault her logic—it made sense to him—but didn’t want his mom to overexert herself. “Is that all right with you?”

  A smile accompanied her nod. “It’s a good day.”

  “Then let’s go find the biggest, bestest pumpkin out there.” He grabbed Myla’s hand, and they traveled the path between fields.

  Mid-way there, Myla broke free. “I found it.”

  He and mom exchanged amused glances. Choosing a pumpkin was like picking a Christmas tree. Half the fun came from the search, and the first one spotted rarely was the final choice. Regardless, they followed Myla to the edg
e of the field on their left.

  Several inches beyond the line, hiding partially behind a large green leaf sat a pumpkin he estimated to be twenty pounds or more. It was symmetrical, and he didn’t see any flat spots from where it had rested on the ground.

  Myla ran her hand over the orange flesh. “See, it’s the best one here.”

  “It’s very nice, but wouldn’t you like to search around? There might be one even better.” Mom’s gentle prodding fell on deaf ears.

  The defiant jut of Myla’s chin told them she’d chosen this pumpkin and no other would suffice. “This one’s perfect.”

  He stooped down and waved for Myla to join him. “Do you want to break it off the vine?”

  “Yes.” She curled her fingers around the green stem and snapped it. “Can I pick it up?”

  “Go for it.” A grin spread across his face while he watched Myla attempt to lift the pumpkin.

  He had to hand it to her—she didn’t give up easily. Even when she couldn’t get it to budge one way, she’d step back, observe, and create a new plan. For a six-year-old, she possessed an extraordinary level of tenacity, and his mom captured it all on her camera.

  After several minutes, Myla looked up at him. “Can you help me, Uncle Wes?”

  “Sure thing.” He bent his arms and slid his hands underneath the pumpkin. Lifted it up into Myla’s outstretched arms while his maintained the brunt of the weight. “Hey, Mom, get a picture of us.”

  “Look at Nana, sweetheart.” Mom held up her camera and snapped several pictures. “Got them.”

  He winked at Myla. “Want to hold it all by yourself?”

  “I… I think you should.” Her face turned serious. “I might drop it, and it could smash, and then I’d cry.”

  “Well, we wouldn’t want that.” He lugged the beast out of the patch and toward the front where they’d be picked up.

  Several hundred feet later, he decided the pumpkin weighed more than his initial assumption of twenty pounds. He didn’t consider himself a weakling, but his arms felt the burn by the time the tractor came back around. Once he climbed into the wagon, he gladly deposited the pumpkin on the plywood floor.