Page 4 of Cozy Girl Fall

“Gloves,” Mrs. Ashley reprimanded as Penny walked past and dipped to grab a bendy plastic bucket.

She winced but pulled the gloves out of her jeans pocket and waved them at the older lady.

“Got them.” Though it wasn’t Penny’s first time helping with the harvest, it seemed like old Mrs. Ashley had somehow forgotten this, if the way she kept berating Penny was anything to go by.

But Penny hadn’t forgotten everything about apple picking.

For one thing, she’d remembered to wear layers, knowing she’d quickly warm up while picking.

So she’d opted for her stretchiest jeans, a tank top, knitted sweater, and a coat as a top layer.

By the time the afternoon rolled around it would likely be a little warmer too, and this way she could strip as needed and not worry about that horribly cold but sweaty feeling she’d get if she went the whole day in just her sweater.

Mrs. Ashley nodded stiffly, brown eyes narrowing. “You’ll be thanking me for the reminder when you get caught on a particularly stubborn branch.”

Penny smiled and hurried away before the other woman could say anything more.

It had been this way ever since Penny had arrived at the orchard for her first shift that morning.

Sure, she hadn’t done this in a few years now, but it was apple picking—not rocket science.

Plus, the longer she stood in the orchard, the more it all came flooding back to her.

The orchard was a sea of browns, greens, and orange leaves against the pale sky.

She’d arrived earlier than her parents, wanting to make the most of the dry weather.

Apple picking in the rain was not her idea of a good time, so the more she could do now the better.

Her parents would be in later, working in the shop that was located at the very front of the orchard in a small barn-like building.

A large gate sat behind and to the left of the shop, supposedly for keeping out trespassers but Penny wasn’t sure she’d ever seen it closed.

Her parents had always said that if someone was desperate enough for food that they came to the orchard then they’d rather they have the fruit than go hungry.

It was a lesson Penny had taken with her to the city too, inspiring her to sometimes volunteer as a cook at a homeless shelter downtown.

It was probably the only thing about San Francisco that she missed.

Gloves firmly in place and the wind trying to blow her hair in all directions, Penny walked through the central row that split the orchard into two sides for the different types of apples they grew.

Penny had often thought that the long walkway between the trees would make a fantastic wedding aisle, but her parents felt it was too much work to open the orchard up as that kind of venue.

Now, of course, Penny realized that they most likely didn’t have the time to take anything else on.

Guilt stabbed at her with the thought. If she’d stuck around after she’d graduated then maybe they could have had more chances to experiment and push the business.

I’m here now.

They’d been assigned different corners of the orchard to work and her hopes of some peace and quiet were short lived when Mrs. Ashley walked to the far end of Penny’s segment, the purple of her bodywarmer catching Penny’s eye.

“Thought I’d stay close in case you needed help on your first day,” she said and Penny wasn’t sure if her grimace could pass for a smile.

“Oh, that’s very kind but not necessary. It’s not really my first day.”

Mrs. Ashley’s brows drew together. “It’s not?”

Who did she think Penny was?

“Mrs. Ashley, you do realize I’m Penny? Phil and Angie’s Penny?”

The plastic bucket in Mrs. Ashley’s arms hit the ground as she gaped and an expletive fell from her mouth, making Penny’s eyes widen. “I didn’t realize! Little Penny Larkin, all grown up. I thought you were away in the city?”

San Fran was the last thing she wanted to talk about, but she forced a smile anyway, relieved that Mrs. Ashley wasn’t being rude on purpose.

To be fair, despite the fact that she’d known Mrs. Ashley for half her life and had grown up spending a lot of time in her husband’s now-closed candy shop, it had been a long time since they’d seen each other.

“Oh, well, I just wanted to help Mom and Dad out in the busy season.”

The smile that the other woman gave Penny was a little tight, and Penny wondered if Mrs. Ashley was judging her long absence and clear desire to get away as soon as she could.

No doubt the rest of the town would be judging her for it soon enough.

If they hadn’t known she was back yet, they would by the end of the day.

The devil worked hard, but the small-town gossip mill worked harder.

“Well, I’ll leave this quarter in your capable hands.”

Penny nodded, tugging awkwardly at her gloves as Mrs. Ashley retreated between the trees. One thing she’d loved about apple picking as a kid was the peace and quiet, the simplicity of the task keeping her mind calm as her thoughts roamed aimlessly.

It was chilly that morning, a sweet freshness in the air that was soothing. The grass was dewy and slippery beneath her boots and her cheeks stung from the cold, but the thick black gloves she’d borrowed from her mom kept her fingers warm and free from scratches.

She worked on the bottom branches first, inspecting the pink apples and discarding any that had been munched on by caterpillars and other bugs, or that had ripened too quickly and were now a little mushy on one side.

Most of them were in good condition though and she’d been out there an hour before she knew it, just clearing the lower-hanging branches.

She had a stepping stool for the higher branches, though thankfully they drooped lower than usual with the weight of their fruit, so she didn’t have to climb to the top step that often. After about another half an hour, she pulled off her coat, and after two she shucked off her sweater too.

The bright light made the apples gleam, their glossy red skin more than a little tempting as Penny’s stomach rumbled the longer she worked.

The sun peeked through the leaves as she navigated the branches, arms aching as she reached above her head for the last apples on the right hand side of the tree, and nearly took a branch to the face when it pinged back at her after she pulled free a particularly stubborn apple.

Her wet soles squeaked on the metal of the ladder as she descended, placing her apple haul into the larger bucket she’d left on the ground half-full. The time on her phone told her it was nearly twelve, so she figured this was as good a point as any to stop and take a break.

Leaving the stool and bucket where it was so she could find where she’d left off, Penny peeled off her gloves, freeing her sweaty hands as she stretched her fingers gingerly.

She’d forgotten how much apple picking made her ache—it hadn’t even been a full day and she was already feeling the burn in her arms and shoulders.

It made sense that it was harder on her now than when she’d been a kid, filled with boundless energy.

But now there was only one thing that was going to help her power through to the end of her shift.

“Coffee,” she muttered, following the straight path that led out of the rows of trees toward the small store where her mom stocked jams, pies, and apples that could be bought by the bagful.

Penny’s green bug waited exactly where she’d left her in front of the small building, now accompanied by a truck so large that its wheel came up to her hip.

Somebody’s overcompensating. She smirked, climbing into her car and pulling out of the orchard parking lot with the ease that came with habit.

The roads were quiet, much like usual, and it surprised her how quickly she was able to fall back into the routine of usual when it came to being back in her hometown versus the city.

She’d thought it might irritate her, that even having left Magnolia Springs her roots there had been so firmly embedded that she could slip back into life in her hometown like there’d been no interruption.

But in reality she felt relieved. Like at least here she belonged, that a small space had been carved out of the town just for her and had waited patiently for her to come back.

Whereas San Fran had always felt like she was desperately clawing at the door, demanding that the city let her in and show her its soul, yet all she got in return was pain, not acceptance.

Her favorite coffee shop, Coffee Affair, wasn’t far past the row of boutiques that she’d loved to shop in when she was sixteen—she’d even bought her prom dress from one of them.

The walk into the old town from where she’d parked by the church was short but felt more nostalgic than usual.

Maybe it was working on the orchard again, but she could almost see the ghost of her younger self giggling on the sidewalk eating frozen yogurt and gossiping with Tasha.

It seemed like forever ago and the thought sent an unexpected pang of longing through her, though she wasn’t exactly sure what for. For simpler times, maybe.

Not for small-town life though .

The thought was only amplified when the few customers inside the coffee shop all turned to stare at her as she walked in.

Penny wasn’t sure what was worse, the thought of being recognized from her exit the previous day and people trying to start awkward conversations with her, or people judging her like she was over from the new town that had been built up past the church.

Neither appealed.

Thankfully, conversation had resumed by the time she stepped up to the counter and smiled at the unfamiliar barista.

“Hi, I’ll take a pumpkin spice latte please. Biggest size you have.” She was going to need the caffeine to get through to the end of the day, before her arms stiffened up too much to move.