Page 10 of Let’s Give ‘Em Pumpkin to Talk About

Five

S adie should have been getting to know her pumpkin plant, but Josh needed another day to “take it offline,” whatever the fuck that meant. She was saving that plant from a terrible fate as a data point, she was sure of that much.

Instead, she bicycled into town, a warm breeze caressing her face.

The redbuds, always the harbingers of autumn, began to show color around the middle of August. With the heart-shaped leaves at the ends of their limbs turning red, it was like so many earnest declarations of love from the forest itself. Even Sadie had to admit it was lovely.

In her youth, there was nothing to draw tourists to the backwater of Pea Blossom, Indiana.

Now, with newfound art colony vibes, the town had become a weekend destination for city dwellers seeking respite from Indianapolis, Louisville, and Cincinnati.

Bicycles, many of them rented, were common on this rail trail stretching north out of town, close to Fox Family Farm.

Downtown Pea Blossom boasted farm-to-table restaurants, artisanal ice cream, and a local coffee roastery, where she was on her way to meet her sister.

Half sister, technically. When Sadie’s mom divorced Stu, she promptly started a new family with her second husband.

Grace was twenty-five, six years younger than Sadie.

That had seemed like a lot when they were younger, but the gap vanished once they became full-grown adults.

Because of the animosity between their parents, Sadie only saw Grace at school functions growing up.

They began texting regularly when Grace got her own cell phone and Sadie was off at college.

Though they rarely saw each other in person, they kept up a decent correspondence.

Grace had spent the morning sending her strings of emojis, urging her to get on her bike and meet her in town.

Sadie, however, had not become a professional artist to get out of bed early or arrive places on time.

Grace was already sitting under the Blossom County Coffee Roasters awning at a table for two when she pulled up and locked her bike to the rack. Grace stood, arms out, ready to wrap Sadie in a hug. She was soft and smelled like expensive flowers.

The two didn’t quite look like sisters, but that was more thanks to their styles than their genetics.

Grace closed the gap in her teeth with orthodontics.

Sadie dyed her naturally dark brown hair all the way to bluish black whereas Grace tinted hers honey blond.

They both were tall and pear-shaped, like some sturdy lady forebear on their mother’s side who carried children on her hips while working the fields.

“I didn’t order your drink because I know you like your coffee hot and black and I didn’t want it to get cold.” Sadie felt cared for given the thoughtful explanation. Nothing was more frustrating than someone assuming what she wanted.

She returned to the table minutes later with a pour over, pleased to see that fancy coffee had found its way onto menus in Indiana.

This building used to be the dilapidated remains of a feedstore, done in by the Tractor Supply outside of town.

Next to it had been another abandoned building—once a pharmacy wiped out by a CVS, now an ice cream parlor.

Sadie thought of herself as an imaginative person, but she never saw the potential in Pea Blossom that these business owners did.

“We are going to see the fuck out of each other while you’re here,” Grace said.

“As long as you don’t make me watch any wedding videos,” Sadie said.

Grace scowled, and it was like looking in a mirror. “Screw you, my wedding was beautiful. I wish you could have been there.”

Sadie smiled. “I’m no fun at weddings anyway.” That wasn’t especially true, but her sister would believe it. As much as Sadie wanted to celebrate her sister, she could not be in the same room as their mother. It was for Sadie’s own protection.

“Are you going to get in touch with our mother?” Grace didn’t do small talk any better than Sadie did.

“I’d rather get mauled by Bigfoot while bicycling home.

” Sadie did her level best not to harbor ill will toward the woman.

Her mother avoided her for reasons that piled up into suffocating layers.

Guilt for having left her at such a tender age, frustration with having created a human that behaved all too much like someone she had grown to hate.

Her desire to focus on the family she’d gotten right.

Sadie had coached Grace through multiple tearful phone calls about the decision not to come to her wedding. Grace wanted a beautiful day, and despite the possibility of disaster, she wanted her mother there.

While Sadie’s experiences with their mom had the haze of childhood over them, coupled with the lasting pain, Grace understood her behavior from a more analytical, mature vantage point.

Whenever their mother felt slighted, she acted out disproportionately.

It might manifest as a shouting match with a caterer over the number of green beans on her plate.

She might storm off if Grace didn’t adequately laud her at the rehearsal dinner.

Sadie’s presence would absolutely be perceived as a slight.

“Change of subject. How’s married life treating you?” Sadie asked.

Grace considered the question over a sip of her iced tea.

Her fuchsia lipstick was neatly applied and cheerful; her symmetrical swoops of eyeliner created flawless cat eyes.

Where Sadie’s childhood had made her brittle, their mother’s emotional immaturity forged Grace’s driven, perfectionist nature.

She’d aspired to be a librarian from a young age, and she graduated from library school in the spring.

She was now a month into her job as Pea Blossom Elementary’s school librarian.

“Our one-year anniversary was two weeks before you got here,” she began.

“The paper anniversary. I saved various things from our wedding—the napkins, some extra programs, one of the bows from the backs of the chairs, flowers, the sheet music the string quartet played from—and, you’ll love this, I had it all pulped and made into paper.

I used it for pages of a wedding album with leftover blank ones for journals or baby books or whatever. It’s so fucking special.”

The concept of “marital bliss” made Sadie want to turn into a solitary frog living under a toadstool who had no concept of such vile human constructs, but it suited her sister.

It softened her, somehow. Not like dulling a knife, but like polishing a stone until it gleamed.

She might not have expected it, as neither of them were very sentimental.

“Heartfelt as shit,” Sadie agreed.

“I know. Kyle felt bad he only got me flowers.”

Marks off for this guy. “I would say it’s the thought that counts, but…”

Grace slapped Sadie’s arm with the back of her hand. “I know. It seems like he didn’t put thought into it, but gift giving isn’t his love language, you know?”

Sadie wrinkled her nose. “Okay, I’ll bite. What is his love language?”

“Quality time. Which we’ve been missing a lot because he’s got so many late nights at work. That’s why we’re going away for the weekend, to a little farm stay where we will collect our own eggs and pick the vegetables we eat and whatnot.”

“Sounds like some enterprising farmer found a way to make people pay to do work.”

“It’s not a place for cynics like you,” Grace said.

“But they’re letting you stay?”

Grace rolled her eyes. Sadie loved that her sister was undaunted by the rain cloud that followed her around all the time. Grace had one, too, but her blond hair and pink sundress set up a diversion.

Seeing Grace so happy and self-assured made Sadie wonder if she was following that rain cloud rather than letting it follow her.

“Kyle wants to do the farm stay?” Sadie asked.

“For sure. That’s why he was excited about living in Pea Blossom rather than Indy. He loves the idea of having a little land and chickens and whatnot once we save up some money.”

Sadie, for all her cynicism, understood.

Fox Family Farm wasn’t growing a variety of produce as it once had, but carving a little space out of the forested land and working it was undoubtedly good for the soul.

She’d been checking her father’s plants that morning and happy to see they seemed a little more resilient, sending forth new flowers, some of which would burgeon into glorious pumpkins, though not in time for the weigh-off.

She already had everything she needed to bring these pumpkins into reality—the knowledge, the skills, Stu’s lifetime’s worth of equipment—she simply had to observe and react.

It felt so good to know what she was doing.

While her first response to hardship was often retreat, seeing those nascent flowers stirred something in her that made her want to protect them from any further damage.

“But tell me about Los Angeles,” Grace breathed.

“Also, these are for sharing.” She pushed the plate forward, laden with scones and Danish.

Sadie picked up a scone covered in everything bagel seasoning and took a bite.

The pastry was properly buttery and tender, making her extra thankful for this outing.

“LA is good. I have a little place in Los Feliz, which is definitely a good place to be as an artist. My life is pretty quiet there, honestly. I work all the time. I just finished a big weaving project, a commissioned piece for Brynn Bianchini.”

For many people, she’d have to give further explanation, along the lines of “celebutante,” “social media influencer,” or the like, but Grace would know.

“Fuckin’ A,” Grace crowed. “That’s a big deal. I’ve watched that woman pick out clothes on her reality show, so I know she’s not the easiest to deal with. I hope she paid you a ton.”