Page 5 of Fall for You (Second Chances #7)

Alana

I was overcome with a sense of deja vue as I drove my mother’s battered Volvo over to Patterson Farm. It had been twelve years, but muscle memory meant I drove there on autopilot.

We need to update that sign, I thought to myself as I made the turn to the private road leading up to the main house.

It was billboard size, with ‘Patterson Farm’ on the top and ‘Home of the Fall Festival Corn Maze’ on the bottom and pumpkins along the sides.

The sign was so faded you could hardly make anything out.

We just needed some paint and scaffolding and we could freshen it up easily, I told myself as I put the car in park and typed a note into my running task list for the Festival.

It was starting to be a long list. The Festival had clearly chugged along on autopilot for years. Like the sign, the entire thing was desperately in need of a refresh.

I drove slowly up the long road, memories hitting me fast and furious. This farm had been a second home to me back in high school. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it until now.

After parking on the side of the building where the Pattersons ran a little farm store for tourists, I stepped out of the car and took a deep breath of fresh air. Even though I was only a couple of miles from town, the air somehow smelled crisper and cleaner out here.

“You’re late.”

I turned as Ronnie’s grumpy voice carried across the parking lot.

“My apologies,” I said, even though a quick check of my Apple Watch showed I’d only missed the mark by seven minutes. “I needed to stop for coffee.”

I held up a cup from ‘Cup of Joe’, Hayword’s only coffee shop. Despite being the only game in town besides the drip coffee at the Quickie Mart, Cup of Joe had fantastic coffee, even better than I remembered. Reaching into the cup holder between the seats, I retrieved another coffee.

“Marlene says you still like caramel lattes,” I said, handing it to her.

The barista had been there since we were kids.

Ronnie looked at the cup like it was a bomb. “I don’t usually drink coffee in the afternoon.”

I shrugged. “Okay, I’ll dump it out.”

But when my fingers went to the lid, her hand shot out. “I might as well drink it since you brought it.”

“You’re welcome,” I said cheerfully.

When had my former BFF gotten so damned grumpy?

“Where should we start?” I asked.

Alana shrugged. “How about we loop around and you can tell me where we should do pictures or what suggestions you have?”

Her tone clearly conveyed that my suggestions would probably suck.

“Sounds good.”

We walked through the falling leaves on the side where all the maple trees grew, sipping our coffee. It was chilly out, but not super cold, making it comfortable to walk.

“We should put Halloween stuff on these trees,” I said suddenly.

“Like scary faces, giant fake spiders, that kind of thing. Maybe some skeletons or scarecrows between them. Then it could be something the kids could run around in while the parents are shopping. We could call it the enchanted forest, something less scary than the haunted house.”

“I like that idea,” Ronnie said approvingly. “I’ll run it past the parents.”

“I thought you were in charge of the Festival now,” I said.

“I am.”

“If you’re in charge, shouldn’t it be your decision what activities to add?” I asked.

“My parents like to meddle.”

“Maybe they meddle because you look to them for approval,” I said.

Ronnie looked irritated for a minute, then her face smoothed.

“You know, maybe you’re right and I am deferring to them too much,” she said thoughtfully. “I’ve been trying to be respectful of their roles as the elders, but it’s time I put my own stamp on the Festival. Doing the same thing every year is not working for us anymore.”

“There you go,” I encouraged. “Now let’s find a place for your pumpkin selfies and pictures.”

I dropped my now empty coffee cup in a garbage can near the back of the store, then we headed towards the other side of the house.

As we walked, my foot slipped on some wet leaves and my leg flew out in front of me.

My arms windmilled as I tried to keep my balance.

I thought for sure I was going to faceplant into the muddy ground, but Ronnie grabbed me by the waist, pulling me back against her body.

We both stood perfectly still, my ass pressing against her pelvis, her breath moving across my ear. It was the first time we’d touched each other since I got back in town, and even this platonic touch was enough to make my blood hum in excitement.

There was no reason for it to happen. Ronnie clearly had never moved past our breakup, based on her obvious animosity towards me.

And I was only in Hayword for a month or two while things died down in New York.

Memories were short in the city, and once the next scandal hit, no one would remember why I was practically run out of advertising on a rail.

Hopefully.

“Are you okay?” Ronnie asked, her voice sounding strangled.

I shivered. “Yeah, thanks.”

I felt the loss of connection as soon as her hands left my body. Gah, this was going to be torture.

“Alana Doyle! Is that you?”

We jumped apart as Ronnie’s mother called my name, no doubt making us both look guilty.

“Mrs. Patterson, hi. Nice to see you again.”

I moved closer and the older woman pulled me in for a hug.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes after all these years? And looking so glamorous too.”

I was wearing dark washed skinny jeans, knee high boots with a two inch heel, and a designer tunic with a puffy vest over it.

Definitely the kind of thing you wore for a walk through Central Park or a casual burger with a friend on the weekend in New York, but I guessed in Hayword it qualified as glamorous.

“Next time you might try wearing boots that will keep your feet on the ground,” Ronnie mumbled from behind me.

We both ignored her. Mrs. Patterson spent ten solid minutes quizzing me about my life in New York before Ronnie was able to pull me away.

“Mom, we’ve got a lot to see while it’s still light,” Ronnie said impatiently. “Alana’s going to take a bunch of pictures this weekend to use for Fall Festival promotions and social media.”

“It’s so exciting,” Mrs. Patterson gushed. “I can’t wait to hear all about your ideas.”

Ronnie rolled her eyes and I knew she was thinking that her mother wasn’t as interested in her ideas.

Regardless of whose idea something was, I was determined to help my hometown have the best Fall Festival ever.

And part of that was highlighting Patterson Farm and increasing their profits.

This farm had been in Ronnie’s family for generations, and I was determined to help them turn things around, no matter how much Ronnie hated me.

“It was nice to see you, Mrs. Patterson,” I said politely.

Ronnie and I headed towards the barn, and I felt a little flush as I remembered all the time we’d spent exploring each other’s bodies in that building. Ronnie seemed suddenly uncomfortable, making me wonder if she was feeling it too.

“The barn’s the same as you remember,” she said quickly, pointing towards it. “But I’ve been working with Jake on a plan to turn it into a haunted house like you suggested. We think it’s going to work well, especially if we incorporate the back area.”

Jake was Ronnie’s cousin who worked full-time on the farm. He was ten years older than us and had already been working here back when Ronnie and I were in high school.

“How is Jake?” I asked.

He’d always seemed like a great guy. He was friendly, but not pervy like some of the older guys in this town. When we were seniors he’d buy us beer as long as we promised not to get drunk, which made us love him even more.

“Good, he got married a few years ago and has a little boy now,” Ronnie said. “Andy is three.”

“Cool.”

We walked for about an hour, stopping at various places on the property to discuss ideas or plan for things to highlight when I came back to take pictures.

“I ordered some plywood cutouts for the selfies,” I told her. “I know a guy who got us a deal, so I paid for them out of the marketing budget. We’ll need to paint them, but Chloe said she and her friends would help.”

“That sounds great,” Ronnie said. “Thank you.”

Finally we arrived at the far side of the property, stopping in front of the corn maze. The Pattersons had been creating a corn maze for the Fall Festival since the Great Depression. It was a favorite among the townspeople.

“Have you done the maze yet?” I asked.

Ronnie shook her head. “Mom and Dad planned it out, but I haven’t gone through it yet.”

I knew that everyone who worked at Patterson Farm for the Fall Festival was required to memorize the layout of the corn maze so we could help anyone who got trapped and couldn’t find their way out.

“Sounds like it’s time then. We can do it together.”

“No.”

I waggled my eyebrows and widened my eyes at her, just like I did when we were teens and I wanted to dare her to do something.

Ronnie had always been the more cautious of the two of us, while I was the one who dared her to try things that sometimes got us both in trouble.

My mother used to say that I was the lively to her calm, and apparently it was still true to today.

“I don’t need to explore the corn maze,” Ronnie said stubbornly. “I’ve worked on every corn maze we’ve had since I was old enough to walk. I’m good at figuring them out.”

“Scared you won’t be able to get out?” I goaded her.

“Of course not.”

“Then lead the way, Farmer Ronnie.”