Page 1 of Fall for You (Second Chances #7)

Alana

T he Uber driver pulled up in front of the house I’d grown up in, but I didn’t move. Instead I stared out the window, wondering if one of those Spirit of Halloween stores had opened a branch on my mother’s front porch.

Signs of “Spooky Season”, as my mom gleefully called it, were everywhere, from the multiple jack-o’-lanterns to the scarecrow sitting on the porch swing to the giant hay bale that served as a platform for the ten foot high skeleton.

Yeah, Mom had gone all out for Halloween again this year, and it wasn’t even October yet.

“You getting’ out or what, lady?”

The irate Uber driver brought my attention back to the present.

“Sorry. I just need to get my suitcases out of the trunk.”

Slinging a tote bag over one shoulder, my purse and laptop bag over the other, I dragged the two giant suitcases I’d brought with me up the sidewalk.

My entire life was reduced to two suitcases now, I thought with a sigh.

I’d sold everything else before I left New York, just in case I didn’t make it back.

I hope I make it back…

I’d left Hayword with these same two suitcases, ready to take on the world. And for a while I had. Until the advertising career I’d worked so hard for went up in flames, making me persona non grata in Manhattan.

“Alana, sweetheart!”

Mom rushed out the front door, pulling me into a tight hug. She smelled like lilacs and home, which just made me want to cry.

“Come in, come in. I’ve got your old room all made up for you.”

I suppressed a sigh. Thirty years old and I was moving back in with my parents, sleeping on the same twin bed I’d used since kindergarten.

I couldn’t believe this was my life now.

I should feel grateful that I at least had a home to come back to, but that didn’t make me feel like any less of a failure.

Mom grabbed one of my suitcases and my laptop bag, marching up the front steps. She might be fifty-five now, but my mother was still spry. She flew up those stairs with my bags like they weighed nothing.

“Hey.”

I followed the depressed sounding voice to a lump on the couch that I was pretty sure was my younger sister, Chloe.

Although Mom would never allow anyone to say this in front of her, Chloe was a ‘menopause oops’ baby, conceived when Mom was ‘going through the change’ and thought she was out of eggs.

Getting pregnant at forty was a big surprise for her, but she and my father took it in stride.

I was a different story since I was in high school at the time and totally mortified to have a pregnant mother.

I didn’t know my sister very well. I’d moved out of the house when she was a toddler and had rarely been back since, leaving us to quick holiday visits and the occasional text. I guess the silver lining of this little detour was getting to know her now.

“How’s it going, Chloe?”

The lump on the couch shifted, possibly shrugging, but didn’t answer. Mom rolled her eyes but didn’t comment, instead dragging my suitcase up the stairs.

“Your sister’s going through a goth stage,” Mom stage whispered as we walked up the stairs. “She’s going to be summoning the Prince of Darkness pretty soon.”

“At least it’ll fit with your Halloween theme,” I joked.

Mom gave me a smile that looked just like the one I saw in the mirror. Back when I had something to smile about that is.

“I’m glad to have you back home, Alana, even if it’s not what you wanted.”

I cringed internally. I didn’t want my mom to think I didn’t want to be here, even if I didn’t.

She pushed open the door to my childhood bedroom and set my suitcase just inside.

“Dinner’s at six, just like always. Come on down when you’re ready.”

I flopped down on my bed, the springs creaking loudly, and realized I still had those light-up stars on the ceiling. I always loved the way they recharged in the sun then glowed in the dark.

With a sigh that rivaled my little sister’s, I texted my best friend Vera. She’d been assigned my roommate my first year at NYU and we’d been close ever since.

Alana: I’ve officially reached rock bottom. I’m in my childhood bedroom surrounded by soccer awards and k.d. lang posters. My parents haven’t changed a thing since I moved out.

Vera: You always did like your girls butch.

My mind went back to my first girlfriend, Ronnie, with her long hair and fascination with make-up. For a farm girl, she had her girlie side. It was something we had in common. One of many things.

Alana: Not always.

Vera: You sound depressed.

Alana: You can tell that from a text?

Vera: I can read the subtext. I told you not to go back home. You could have stayed with me as long as you needed to get back on your feet.

Alana: Your studio is smaller than my parents’ living room.

Vera: We would have made it work.

Alana: I appreciate the offer. Truly. I’ll just take a month or two here while I figure out my next steps and hopefully I’ll be back in civilization with you soon.

Vera: Okay, but if you see any children lurking by corn fields promise me you’ll run.

Alana: I promise.

“Alana! Time for dinner!”

I headed downstairs just as my father came out of the living room.

“Hey kiddo, it’s good to see you.” He gave me a tight hug.

“Thanks, Dad.”

And that was all he said. My father was a man of few words.

I followed him to the dining room where my mother and Chloe were setting up food.

My sister’s hair, normally a dark red like mine and my mother’s, was died black now.

With her all black clothing, the thick black eyeliner rimming her eyes, and her super pale skin, she looked like a vampire.

I knew better than to mention it though.

“I made your favorite,” Mom said. “Grilled cheese and tomato soup.”

Technically that was my favorite when I was a kid, but it sounded comforting now. It sounded like home.

“Great, thanks Mom.”

I sat across from my sister and got down a good two bites of my grilled cheese before my mother dropped the bomb.

“Good news Alana, I got you a job!”

I dropped my sandwich, looking first at my father, who was pretending he was alone, and then at my mother.

“What do you mean you got me a job?”

I’d been here less than an hour. I hadn’t had time to unpack, let alone lick my wounds.

‘The Hayword Fall Festival was looking for a marketing specialist,” she said excitedly. “It’s only part time but they were thrilled to get someone with your marketing experience.”

“I don’t have marketing experience, Mom. I work in advertising.”

She shrugged dismissively. “Same thing.”

“Not really,” I said. “Advertising is kind of a sub-specialty of marketing. I haven’t done any marketing work since I was a college intern.”

My mom’s voice took on the same tone it took when she’d tried to get me to eat green beans or go to church when I was a kid.

“Alana, all you’ve got to do is make some social media posts, take some pictures, create flyers, that kind of thing. It’ll be so easy for you.”

She wasn’t wrong, but I didn’t appreciate her accepting jobs on my behalf, or busting my ass on my very first night home.

“Mom…”

“I already told them you would take the job, young lady. You’re not going to embarrass me in front of the mayor by blowing the festival people off, are you?”

Across the table, Chloe smirked. She was probably glad to have someone else on Mom’s radar for once, poor kid.

“I guess I could help,” I said reluctantly.

Honestly, marketing the Fall Festival would be easy money, and at least it would get me out of the house. What did I have to lose?

“That’s great honey, I knew you’d be willing to help.” She reached over and patted my shoulder. “You’ve always been such a good girl.”

Mom gave my sister a significant look. “People could learn from you.”

My sister sighed dramatically but didn’t look up from her soup. So much for her reprieve.

I picked up my sandwich, then dropped it again as Mom added the last nail in my metaphorical coffin.

“I forgot the best part, you’re going to be working with your old best friend, Ronnie Patterson.”