Page 24 of Let’s Give ‘Em Pumpkin to Talk About

Thirteen

S adie should have known. Maybe Josh Thatcher wasn’t a billionaire, but he sure did think like one.

This whole time, he had ulterior motives.

The fucker was probably thrilled with the damage the tree did to Stu’s house; that free demolition made it easier to take over the land her family had stewarded for so long.

She was mad at him, but she aimed more fury at herself.

She’d let herself be charmed by him. She’d even…

God, she didn’t want to think about last night, but her mind betrayed her.

Courtesy of his top-notch toys, she had the kind of orgasm that was like pulling the stopper in a bathtub, an utter whirlpool of the accumulated tension she’d built up.

And it was fun, too, exerting a little control over Josh.

He was so obedient, coming on command for her.

“How should I lay these out?” Esther asked, nodding toward the basket of goods fresh from the forest in her arms.

Bless Esther, her new friend from the Spinning and Weaving Guild and fellow forager, for this necessary distraction.

Sadie busied herself arranging her goods and letting Esther rhapsodize about the properties the Tulip Poplar Trust had acquired lately.

Sadie didn’t even mind; these efforts to preserve the land with a blend of Western science and Indigenous knowledge gave her unexpected hope about the future of Blossom County.

The market quickly bustled with people, and Josh’s booth’s popularity prevented him from bothering her.

Sadie studiously avoided him in turn, which was easy with the spoils of her and Esther’s foray.

Esther’s woven Adirondack basket backpack overflowed with fiber and supplies, including pieces of wood and thrifted silverware, perfect for scraping freshly foraged leaves down to reveal the shining white fibers inside.

Whenever there was a lull in the commerce, Sadie helped her process them.

The motions were so familiar, they seemed instinctual.

But that wasn’t possible. The smell, the utterly green aroma of freshly scraped leaves, was more delectable than any perfume.

She hated the smell of the inside of a pumpkin thanks to an entire childhood of dealing with them, but this was heavenly.

“I must have done this as a child,” Sadie remarked, “but I don’t remember being taught.”

“Surely Stu taught you,” Esther answered, voice soft with admiration. “He taught me.”

Sadie scoured her memory. How could the man who drove her to such anger that she destroyed his crops be the same one who nurtured her other interests by passing on these skills?

And more critically, why couldn’t she remember?

When asked to describe Stu, she would say, He’s a huge asshole, but the man knows how to grow a pumpkin.

Sure, it was quippy, but had reducing him like that convinced her that the version of her dad she remembered from her teenage years was the whole of him?

“I must have been so young,” Sadie mumbled in reply. Why did she only see what frustrated her in her father? And why did she only remember the shitty parts of Pea Blossom?

At least she had Esther, in another blousy linen getup, to remind her of what was important.

They prepared bundles of fiber that would dry in the sunshine before becoming parts of Esther’s projects.

She had brought a few of her pieces to sell, further filling out Sadie’s table.

Esther’s fine nettle yarn made for darling bandannas and neckerchiefs.

Those were too work-intensive to be profitable, but Brigid’s crosses made from common rush were popular and quick to make.

Before long, they sold out of everything.

Esther was delighted. “How about we keep this partnership going throughout market season?”

Sadie needed to get the hell out of Pea Blossom, but she didn’t want to tell Esther the details just yet.

“Honestly, I might not make it to the market every week. If I get started on a new project, I will need to prioritize that. But you can absolutely use this table even if I’m not around.”

That satisfied her. The two of them did a quick shop around the market before Esther dropped her back at Josh’s place.

The more they chatted, the more Sadie wanted to open up to Esther about Josh’s betrayal.

But then she’d have to admit how he’d really hurt her.

She felt so silly for believing he was anything but a charming manipulator.

When she arrived at Josh’s house, she planned to eat, pack, and leave.

Grace would host her until she could book her flight home and forget this whole farm-fresh fantasy ever happened.

And Esther would jump at the chance to fully take over Stu’s market stall given how successful her sales were. Sadie could make a clean break.

Her dinner was a collection of market goodies. A savory kolache and cookie from the bakery, half a carton of succulent little orange tomatoes, and a lemonade flavored with local lavender.

She laid atop the red-and-white quilt she’d yet to sleep under and stared blankly at the ceiling, trying to recall what of her belongings might still be in the wreckage of Stu’s house. While compiling a list of things to look for, she fell into a deep sleep.

A gunshot woke Sadie with a start. She dived onto the floor and rolled under the bed.

By the time her eyes were fully open, it was clear she wasn’t in danger from a sniper.

The gunshot was probably from Zach’s property as he prepared Go Hog Wild for its grand opening.

The bright sunlight indicated she’d slept clean through the night.

Then she groaned at the actual Hoosier nightmare she was living in.

Packing her things, Sadie realized she’d left some meds in Josh’s downstairs bathroom. She couldn’t abandon them. If she was lucky, he wouldn’t be there on her rescue mission.

But good luck was scarce. Pumpkins destroyed, house destroyed, and Josh sitting at the table in the kitchen, drinking coffee and eating a slice of toast slathered in butter and honey while he stared at a laptop screen.

Sadie wagered that if she ignored him, he wouldn’t dare speak first. She acted with tactical precision, scooping toiletries and medication into a tote bag.

Then she realized that she had also brought a beloved mug from California to Stu’s house, and then to Josh’s.

Made by a friend from college, the mug was the kind of beautiful monstrosity only an art student could make, and Sadie treasured it.

It was a miracle that it survived the tornado.

She’d made breakfast in Josh’s kitchen the previous morning, but she’d been in a bit of a fog, given the preceding night. What had she done with that damn mug?

She started opening cabinets until she found the one with Josh’s mugs, and there was hers alongside his. Into her bag it went. Josh continued to eat breakfast, wordlessly watching her loot his cabinets. She might have expected him to rush to some kind of excuse, but apparently he knew better.

It was deplorable and underhanded, to be so kind to someone only because you were trying to buy their family’s property.

Maybe if he’d been honest, she wouldn’t have minded, given that Stu had no other kids and she wasn’t planning to take over the farm.

But now that she knew he wanted it, she would deny him.

She’d tell Stu to choose any future for Fox Family Farm—including another fucking hog shooting gallery for all she cared—except a merger with Josh’s Squashes.

“Can we talk about this?” Josh asked.

“This?” Sadie spat. “Please define ‘this.’”

“What happened the other night? What happened at the market?”

“No, because there’s nothing to say. You used me to get into my father’s good graces and now you want to swoop in when he’s down. That’s all you tech bros know anyway, exploitation and greed. I’m getting my things and I’ll be out of your hair for good.”

“It’s true I’ve been thinking about expanding Josh’s Squashes. You said you would never take over the farm, and you didn’t seem to care who did. I’m sorry I didn’t bring it up directly.”

She shouldn’t care about Josh’s plans, nor should she care about the fate of Fox Family Farm, a place she’d escaped as soon as she could.

Yet here she was, caring. Maybe that made her a hypocrite.

Whatever, she didn’t owe Josh consistency.

Between being in the pumpkin patch and foraging on her dad’s property, she wasn’t ready to be done with Fox Family Farm.

When she and Josh were talking in bed, she wasn’t ready to admit that to herself, let alone him. Still, she’d exposed herself, quite literally, and it made her queasy to think she’d been mistaken in handing over her trust. “Everything you’ve done since I’ve gotten here has been fake nice.”

Josh closed his laptop. “I think I’ve been embarrassingly sincere with you, Sadie.”

She refused to cede him the point. “Then why were you keeping it a secret?”

His eye contact was, to use his words, embarrassingly sincere. “A secret is overstating it. It’s been a far-off dream, and only a dream at that. Nate and I indulge in farming daydreams together sometimes.”

“That wasn’t daydreaming. That was scheming.”

“Even if Stu decided to sell his land before he drew his last breath, which we both know is already a long shot, he probably won’t sell it to me until I’ve proven myself at SPICE.

But maybe he doesn’t want to devote the time and energy to fixing the house back up.

I wanted to give him the option. If he says no, at least I’ve planted the seed. ”

“Then consider me the crow who picks your seed right out of the fucking ground,” Sadie said.

From the corner of her eye, she spied a bottle of hot sauce in an open cabinet. She’d put that there as well, one of the rescued items from Stu’s house. It wasn’t a precious bottle of hot sauce or anything, but she’d be damned if she gave Josh Thatcher anything else.