Page 22 of Embers in Autumn

Amber

The first thing I heard was the faint buzz on my nightstand. I cracked one eye open, blinked against the pale light seeping through the curtains, and reached for my phone.

Dean : Good morning.

A laugh bubbled up before I could stop it, my cheeks already warming. God, I felt like a teenager. Giggles before coffee—what was happening to me?

Amber : Morning yourself, firefighter. Survive the night?

The typing dots popped up almost immediately.

Dean : Barely. Long one. Warehouse fire. Had to pull Mike’s stubborn ass out before he got flattened.

I sat up, hair a mess around my face, grinning like an idiot at the screen.

Amber : You’re kidding. Is he okay?

Dean : Cracked rib maybe. He’ll live. Already complaining too much for a man who’s hurt.

I snorted, tossing the blanket off as I padded into the bathroom. Toothbrush in one hand, phone in the other. Multitasking at its finest.

Amber : I need to go buy batteries today.

Dean : Batteries? No need for that. I can be at your place in 20 minutes.

I choked on toothpaste foam, laughing so hard I had to lean against the sink.

Amber : Not that , you filthy man. For the Halloween candles I ordered online. They didn’t come with batteries.

Dean : …so you’re switching to electric candles now? After all those perfumed ones you’re addicted to?

I rinsed my mouth, grinning into the mirror.

Amber : Yeah, well, apparently the downside to dating a fireman is he won’t let me light real candles in my bookstore anymore.

Dean : You forgot the upside. I’m great at carrying you away from danger.

Amber : You’re not funny.

Dean : I’m hilarious.

I laughed, tucking my phone between shoulder and ear as I pulled a brush through my hair. Every message left me lighter, a little giddier, like the last few years hadn’t left scars at all.

Amber : Are you coming tonight?

The reply came after a beat.

Dean : Yeah. I’m going to crash for a few hours, then pick up Lana from school. We’ll swing by around six when the party starts.

Amber : Make it 5:45. I promised Lana I’d do her braid. Now, go get some sleep.

I could almost hear his laugh in the way the typing dots blinked and disappeared.

Dean : Bossy. I like it.

I grinned, setting my phone down as I slipped on my boots.

By eight-thirty I was already frustrated.

The little shop down the street didn’t have the batteries I needed for the new Halloween candles.

The clerk offered me gum instead, which only made me want to bite my own tongue.

That meant the supermarket—across town, of course—where I finally found the right size pack after scouring three aisles that smelled faintly of bleach and oranges.

With the batteries stuffed in my purse, I swung by the bakery to pick up the Halloween cupcakes I’d ordered.

The boxes were stacked precariously in my arms, little ghosts and pumpkins iced in cheerful orange and white.

By the time I made it back to the bookstore, it was 9:15, my arms aching and my patience thinner than tissue paper.

And there was Carol. Waiting primly at the door, umbrella folded neatly at her side, pearls sitting perfectly at her throat.

“You are late,” she announced the moment she saw me. “Young people these days are lazy. Back in my day we—”

“—discovered the wheel?” I cut in as I juggled the cupcake boxes, fumbling for my keys. “Played fetch with mammoths? Dated Tutankhamun?”

Carol’s eyes narrowed, the corners of her lips twitching despite her best efforts. She followed me inside as I shouldered the door open and dropped the boxes on the counter with a sigh of relief.

“Well, now that you mentioned it,” she said, her voice as polished as cut glass, “do you have anything with Egyptian gods?”

I shot her a look as I peeled off my coat. “Why? You dated one of them back in your day and feel the need to reminisce?”

Her laugh rang out, bright and unbothered, the kind of laugh that always made me smile even when I tried not to. She trailed after me toward the shelves like she owned the place, still muttering about how the youth of today couldn’t tell Horus from Osiris.

By late morning, I finally had the last of the Halloween decorations out of their boxes. Paper bats clung to the walls, a string of little pumpkin lights dangled across the front window, and the new candles—finally powered with fresh batteries—glowed cheerfully from the center display.

Carol perched in her usual chair near the counter, gloves folded neatly in her lap, watching me fuss with the last stubborn set of decorations. Her sharp blue eyes missed nothing.

“So,” she said in that deceptively casual tone of hers, “how is it going with the handsome fireman who stopped by last week?”

I tried for nonchalance, adjusting the angle of a plastic skeleton on the shelf. “It’s great. We had dinner, and… some coffee together.”

Her hum was low, knowing. “Mhm.”

I crouched to wrestle open one of the candle compartments, fingers fumbling with the stiff plastic. “Don’t ‘ mhmm ’ me.”

Carol smiled faintly, her pearls catching the light. “You remind me of myself when I first met Harold.”

“Was this before or after they invented electricity?” I asked, wincing as I finally popped the back of the candle open.

She rolled her eyes with elegant precision, but the corner of her mouth curved. “Very funny. It was 1973, thank you very much. I was eighteen and working at a diner in the city. My first real job. And before you say anything else stone-age related, yes, there was running water and cars, too.”

I grinned over my shoulder, but my hands slowed as she continued.

“He used to come in every morning before his shift at the post office. Ordered black coffee and cherry pie, even when it wasn’t breakfast time.

At first I thought he was just another customer with odd taste, but then I realized…

he only ever sat at my counter. He’d wait for my section, even if the place was half empty. ”

Her gaze softened, drifting to some far corner of memory. “It took me a month to figure it out. Another month to let him take me dancing. And before I knew it, that was it. My whole life, sitting on a diner stool with pie crumbs on his plate.”

For a moment, the room felt suspended, her voice weaving warmth into the air, mixing with the glow of fake candles and the faint cinnamon scent still clinging from the cupcakes.

I swallowed, something tight pressing at my chest. “That’s… romantic, Carol.”

“It was,” she said simply, smoothing her gloves. “And that’s why, darling, when you find someone who looks at you the way Harold used to look at me, you don’t waste time pretending it’s nothing.”

I stacked a few hardcovers on the display table, smoothing their spines until they lined up neat.

“Sure, it’s good to not waste time,” I said lightly, though the words carried more weight than I meant.

“But after what happened with Mark, I’d rather take a slower approach to this new… whatever it is.”

The word relationship hovered at the edge of my tongue, too heavy, too soon. It didn’t feel right—not yet.

Carol tilted her head, studying me like I was another book she could read cover to cover. I ducked away from her gaze, busying myself with adjusting the angle of a little paper bat.

“Are you coming tonight?” I asked, steering the conversation away. “The Halloween party?”

Carol pursed her lips, gathering her gloves from her lap. “No, I have better things to do.”

“Chasing off the neighborhood kids when they come to trick-or-treat?” I teased.

Her laugh rang out, rich and elegant. “Precisely. Someone has to keep them honest.” She rose, smoothing her coat, the faint scent of lavender following her. “It’s time for me to go. But have fun tonight, darling. And send me some pictures.”

“Will do,” I said, walking her to the door.

She swept out into the gray morning, every bit as polished as when she’d arrived. The bell jingled in her wake, leaving the shop quieter, but somehow fuller with her words still hanging in the air.

I had second thoughts about the Leia Organa costume as soon as I caught my reflection in the bookstore’s bathroom mirror.

The dress, long and white, hugged me in all the right places, modest but flattering.

But the hair… oh, the hair. I twisted, pinned, untwisted, and pinned again, my arms aching from trying to wrangle my chestnut waves into those iconic cinnamon buns.

After twenty minutes, I looked less like a rebel princess and more like someone had glued dinner rolls to the sides of my head.

Still, when I stepped into the shop and saw how the white fabric shimmered against the backdrop of orange pumpkins and black bats, I had to smile. At least I was committed.

The bell over the door jingled, and I turned just in time to see Dean walk in with Lana. For a second, my breath caught. Dean wore a brown leather jacket, a slightly battered fedora tilted rakishly on his head, and a whip coiled at his side.

Indiana Jones had never looked so good.

His eyes swept over me, widening before he broke into a grin. “Well, damn. I almost came as Jabba the Hutt, but that would’ve made this a very different kind of party.”

Heat flared in my cheeks. “You wouldn’t have made it past the door,” I shot back, though the corners of my lips betrayed me with a smile.

“Lana didn’t let me come as a firefighter,” he added, rolling his eyes. “Apparently that’s just my ‘work outfit.’ So, I improvised. Had the fedora lying around, and Carter—don’t ask me why—had the whip.”

I froze mid-motion as I reached for Lana’s hairbrush. “Why does Carter have a whip?”

Dean raised a brow, his grin twitching. “I’m trying really hard to be grateful I had a costume and not ask him that question.”

I laughed, shaking my head as I guided Lana to a chair near the counter. She was dressed as Katniss Everdeen, bow and quiver strapped proudly over her shoulder, her dark hair falling loose down her back.