Page 9 of Falling Like Leaves (Bramble Falls #1)

The Vanderbilt Orchard is a twenty-acre plot of land on the edge of town, with evenly spaced trees in long rows and wood-burned signs labeling the types of apples people can expect to pick in various sections of the expansive field.

Sloane is popping popcorn and handing it out to kids. Mom is dispensing cute brown baskets to visitors picking apples, while Aunt Naomi is walking around making sure everything is running smoothly.

Cooper’s been helping wherever he’s needed, and although he’s passed by several times, he hasn’t acknowledged me. But after stressing about it all week, I’ve decided I don’t care. Between Sloane, Jake, and even Slug, I’m slowly making friends.

Cooper Barnett can kick rocks.

Inside a log cabin at the edge of a small gravel parking lot, I’m bagging apples, pies, caramel dip, and knickknacks after Jake rings them up. We’ve been inside working since I got here two hours ago, and honestly, it hasn’t been half bad.

“Thirty dollars and ninety-five cents,” Jake says to me as a middle-aged lady approaches with a basket full of items.

I eye the items in the basket, assessing. “Higher. Thirty-four twenty-five.”

Jake shakes his head at me and greets the lady. He rings up her items while I lean over him, watching the total go up, up, up—until it stops at thirty-three dollars even.

Jake shoots me a smirk. “I win. Again.”

“But I’m closer!” I whine.

“But you went over. Sorry, loser.”

I give him a shove and he laughs.

“That’s no way to talk to a girl, Jake,” the lady scolds him with a tsk.

I lift my chin and try not to laugh. “Yeah, Jake, you’re hurting my feelings.”

He turns to face me, his expression faux serious. “I’m sorry, Ellis. I didn’t mean to offend you.” The corner of his mouth slides up. “But the runner-up in a two-person competition is in fact a loser. I didn’t write the dictionary.”

The lady grabs her bag and walks away, shaking her head.

“Have a good day, Mrs. Miller!” Jake calls after her.

“She hates you,” I laugh.

“Meh, Mrs. Miller has hated me since I was eight and she caught me eating the huckleberries she planted in her backyard.”

“Wow, such a menace,” I say as a new customer steps up to the counter.

“Eight fifty,” Jake mutters under his breath.

“Six seventy-five.”

Jake rings up the items, but a commotion behind me steals my attention.

I turn around to find a short, elderly woman, probably in her eighties, blushing as she tries to keep a small but wild child from opening a package of caramel apples.

She has short, bouncy curls that make her head look like a cotton ball, and her lips are painted a bright pink.

“I’ll be back,” I tell Jake. Then I approach the woman. “Can I help you with anything?”

She seems to hesitate before taking her eyes off the boy.

“Oh no, dear. I’m just waiting for one of the volunteers to finish in the orchard.

I’m not as nimble as I once was, especially on uneven ground or ladders.

” She points to the living tornado. “Harley struggles with patience, so I thought if I let him walk around in here while we waited…” She trails off. “Well, you can see how that’s going.”

Behind me, Harley is tossing peaches into the air. “Look, Grandma! I can juggle!”

A peach lands with a dull thud on the ground, undoubtedly now bruised. The woman sighs.

“Why don’t I take you guys so you’re not stuck waiting in here?” I offer.

“You don’t have to do that. I know you have another job to do,” she says. “I’ll just take him back outside so he stops destroying the place.”

“I really don’t mind,” I assure her. “Harley,” I call, motioning him over, “put those peaches back and come on. We’re going to pick some apples.” The boy jogs over, his tiny feet nearly tripping over themselves.

We’re about to exit the shop when Aunt Naomi stops us.

“You’re taking them through the orchard?” she asks, her eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, is that okay?”

“Sure, yeah. It’s just that you don’t know your way around….”

“That’s all right. It’s just rows of trees,” I say. “Plus, I’m sure there are plenty of people out there who can help me find my way around.”

“It’s twenty acres, though,” the woman next to her says.

She’s vaguely familiar, and at first, I can’t place her.

But then I notice her eyes—the same striking amber as Cooper’s.

Her gaze homes in on something behind me.

“Coop, can you go with Naomi’s niece? She’s taking these two apple-picking.

I don’t want her to end up getting lost like the Turners did last year. ”

I don’t glance back at Cooper, and I don’t give him a chance to reply. “What about Jake?” I hitch my thumb in the direction of the register. “He can help me.”

“Jake has a long line right now,” Aunt Naomi says. “I’d rather not switch out the person dealing with the money without balancing the drawer first, and I don’t really have time for that.”

“Don’t worry, Cooper knows his way around,” his mom adds with a friendly smile.

Too bad getting lost is the least of my concerns right now.

I haven’t talked to Cooper since the first day of school and didn’t plan on talking to him again before going back to New York.

With the exception of a few glares I catch him shooting my way, he mostly avoids me, even at our shared lunch table.

I can’t believe I’m being forced to hang out with him today.

Accepting my fate, I huff and turn to find Cooper already scooping Harley up and setting him on his broad shoulders. Harley giggles as he fists Cooper’s hair, tugging on it as if holding on to reins.

“Giddy up!” he calls.

“Oh, dear…,” Harley’s grandma mumbles. But Cooper takes it in stride, telling Harley to be sure to hold on tight.

“Let’s head out,” he says, giving the old woman a smile. A stupidly beautiful smile.

“Hey, new girl!” Jake shouts from across the store. “It was eight seventy-five. Loser.” He winks at me before turning back to his line. I smile and shake my head, catching Cooper watching us before he makes his way out the door toward the fields.

I sidle up next to the woman and link my arm through hers. “I’m Ellis.”

“Lovely to meet you, Ellis. I’m Dorothy.”

She places her soft hand on my forearm and lets me lead her outside.

It’s a cool September day following a heavy morning rain, and the grass is still wet, leaving my boots soaked as we saunter through the field of trees.

In just the past week, leaves have begun to change, the lush green now giving way to hints of the yellows and reds to come.

Families roam the area, picking various types of apples and placing them in their baskets, some climbing the wooden ladders placed throughout the orchard for whoever might need them.

Before long, Dorothy and I fall into an easy conversation about Street Media and my college plans.

She’s eager to tell me about her daily walks with the friends she affectionately calls her “girls,” their Sunday games of bridge, her favorite characters in Law & Order: SVU , and her old job as a travel agent.

We’re strolling beneath the overcast sky, goose bumps covering my arms and the sweet scent of apples tickling my nose, when Harley tugs hard on Cooper’s hair and shouts, “Stop here!” Cooper winces as he stops at a tree filled with bright red apples.

Harley wiggles off Cooper’s back and stares up at the apples dangling from every branch. “I want that one.”

We all crane our necks, searching for the specific apple he’s talking about.

“This one?” Cooper asks, tapping one of the high-hanging fruits.

“No. The one all the way up there.” Harley’s chubby finger points beyond where Cooper can reach.

“Harley, no one can reach the ones up there. Choose one of these,” Dorothy says, gesturing to the apples on the lower branches.

Harley stomps his foot, his face puckering into a defiant pout. “No.”

“It’s no problem, Dorothy. I’ll grab a ladder,” I say. I let go of her arm. “You wait here.”

After weaving through two rows of trees and ducking beneath low branches, I get to the closest ladder I can find. It’s folded and leaning against an apple tree. I heave it upright and begin walking it into a horizontal position when Cooper’s hand reaches around me.

“I got it,” he says, grabbing the ladder.

“I can get it,” I tell him, not bothering to mask the annoyance in my voice as I let go.

“I know you can.” He lifts the ladder with ease. “But you don’t have to. And I can probably get it over there faster, which is vital because there’s no telling what sort of trouble that kid will get into if we leave him alone for longer than thirty seconds.”

I smile because he’s right. “Or even longer than three seconds, really.”

“You’re right. His energy is unparalleled,” Cooper says, exposing the first crack in his icy demeanor by smiling back.

“Harley, get down from there!” Dorothy calls as he swings from a branch like it’s a gymnastics bar. “You’re going to get hurt!”

As we arrive with the ladder, the apple tree shakes, higher and higher, until Harley pops out with his arms and legs wrapped around a skinny branch as he maneuvers toward the apple he picked out.

Cooper and I stop in our tracks and stare up at him.

“I couldn’t stop him,” Dorothy says, worried.

The apple trees aren’t especially tall, but this one is high enough that if he falls, he’ll definitely get hurt.

He reaches out to pluck an apple from its branch, and my stomach drops, panic seizing me when his hand slips.

The apple falls to the ground, and he screams, wrapping his arms and legs tightly around the branch as he begins to cry.

“It’s okay, Harley,” I call up as Cooper sets up the ladder. “Hold on. I’m coming up to get you.”

“Okay,” he whimpers.

Cooper looks at me. “I should climb up and get him.”