Page 43 of The Pumpkin Spice Spell (Wisteria Cove #1)

Tate

T he scent of roasting turkey hits me the second I open the door to Lilith’s house.

Warm and buttery with that cozy undertone of herbs and something savory, maybe spiced pears or those glazed carrots Willa keeps dreaming about.

Honestly, it's probably all of the above. I missed out on these dinners while I was away, and now that I’m back, I’m looking forward to them.

“Our friendship feast is a sacred event,” Lilith declares, her hair pinned up with glittering gold sticks, a cranberry-colored apron tied over a flowy black dress. “And I need a strong back and capable hands. Tate, you’re with me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I set the pies Willa brought down on the table, already covered in mismatched dishes and desserts.

She hands me an oven mitt and gestures toward the turkey like it’s a sacred artifact. “We’re basting. Gently. Like you’re coaxing secrets from a dragon.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” I mutter.

She smirks. “And yet you’re doing it beautifully.”

I grin and bend down to check the oven, the heat hitting my face in a blast. The turkey looks perfectly golden brown, glistening, surrounded by orange slices and herbs.

Lilith leans close as I close the oven door. “You know, I’m thankful for you this year,” she says softly. “You’ve brought something back to this house. To my daughter and to this town.”

My throat tightens. “Lilith…”

She pats my shoulder. “Don’t get weepy on me, Holloway. There’s still cranberry sauce to stir.”

By the time the guests start pouring in, the house smells like heaven. Candles flicker in the windows, the fireplace is roaring, and the backyard has been strung with fairy lights like she’s hosting a wedding instead of a potluck.

Old Pete sits in the kitchen, fixing the leg of a creaky wooden chair Lilith rescued from the shed.

I pause for a second, watching him. His hands are steady, his face focused. Willa walks up behind him, pressing a jacket around his shoulders. They whisper. I can’t hear what they say, but I see her kiss his cheek, and I swear I see him wipe his eyes.

This town and these people…they wrap themselves around you when you’re not looking and claim you.

Ivy shows up late. She’s wearing a rust-colored dress and boots, but her eyes are red like she’s been crying. Willa catches her first, drawing her into a hug while Rowan hurries over with a glass of wine and a concerned look.

“What happened?” I murmur to Willa as she passes by.

“Boyfriend trouble,” she whispers. “She said he tried to keep her from coming today. Said he hid her car keys.”

I frown. “That guy’s a walking red flag.”

Before dinner’s ready, the house is full, with Finn and Rowan bickering about deviled eggs, Donna and Lilith laughing together, and Pete sitting near the fire, watching everyone with contentment. Ivy is playing dominoes with Junie while Remy sneaks glances at her from the kitchen doorway. And me?

I belong here. Somehow, in all the mess of the past, I landed in the middle of this noisy, heartfelt, ridiculous chosen family.

And when Willa threads her fingers through mine on her way to the table, everything settles.

The lights dim slightly. Everyone gathers around the main table, with so many chairs and mismatched dishes.

Lilith stands at the head, lifting her glass. Her hair is wild, and her lipstick smudged from sipping her wine glass. She’s radiant.

“I want to say something,” she begins, and the room hushes. “This year has been a year of shifts. Of heartbreak. Of healing. And yet, we’re still here.”

Her eyes sweep across the table. “We’ve had losses, and our hearts have been cracked wide open. But what I’ve learned, and what this town has taught me, is that the heart always finds a way to keep beating. And real love sneaks in through the cracks to settle where it belongs.”

I feel Willa’s hand tighten in mine.

Lilith’s voice softens. “I’m thankful for each of you. For the old friendships and the new. For messy beginnings and unexpected second chances. And for chaos, magic, and the people who show up when it matters most, because we never know when a moment may be our last.”

She lifts her glass higher. “To the ones we love. And the ones who love us back.”

Then the sniffles start. Ivy wipes her eyes. Finn pretends he has allergies. Even Donna swipes a forefinger under her eye.

We raise our glasses, and we drink and feast.

Later, after too many helpings of everything, when the candles have melted halfway down, and Junie is asleep on Donna’s lap, I lean over and kiss Willa’s temple.

“You okay?” I whisper.

She nods, eyes shining. “More than okay.”

Outside, snow begins to fall again, and it’s a soft, quiet, like the town is sighing with contentment.

Willa reaches for my hand under the table and squeezes, and I squeeze back.

I don’t need to say it. It’s all right here in the way Lilith puts me to work and treats me like I’ve always been her son.

It’s all right here in the firelight flickering on Donna’s glasses as she types something into her phone, probably already dreaming up the next novel. And in the way Rowan pulls a soft blanket around Pete’s shoulders when he falls asleep snoring on the couch.

And in Willa’s hand, warm and sure in mine. Yeah.

This is what home feels like.

The harbor’s quiet after Thanksgiving. The water’s dark and slick, so dark that it makes you think too much if you stare at it too long.

I walk the dock alone, hands in my jacket pockets, boots scuffing along the damp planks. The scent of salt and cedar hangs in the air, and off in the distance, a gull cries like it’s mourning something it can’t name.

The old boat’s still there.

She’s still weathered now, with her paint chipped, ropes fraying at the edges as she leans into the dock like she’s tired.

Like she’s waiting for permission to rest for good.

There’s so much I wanted to do to bring her back to life and make my dad proud.

But I think family is most important, and my dad would be proud to see me happy with the people who I love and who love me.

I look around at this life that I’m building, and I can feel him.

He would fit right in if he was still here.

I press a hand flat to the side of the hull. “Thanks for everything you taught me Dad,” I whisper.

The breeze kicks up, and I swear the boat groans in response, like she remembers everything, too.

I stand slowly, swallowing hard. “Goodbye, old girl.”

I’m about to turn away when I hear boots on the dock behind me.

“Figured I might find you down here,” Donna says, out of breath.

I blink and look over my shoulder. She’s in her usual long coat, scarf tucked in tight, hair swept back in a tight bun.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

She walks up beside me, slowly and carefully, like she knows this moment is heavier than it looks. “Well,” she said, “I came to give you something.”

She hands me a manila envelope.

“What is it?”

“Open it.”

I tear it open, half-expecting a manuscript or one of her handwritten recipes for mulled wine. But it’s a deed.

The deed to the boat. In my name.

I freeze. “What…what is this?”

Donna gives me a small smile. “She belongs to you.”

“Donna…” My voice breaks. “Why?”

“Because you weren’t ready to let her go.

And this town looks after each other,” she says, stepping closer.

“And so do you now. You didn’t realize it, but you’re one of us; you always have been.

You’ve been holding pieces of this town together since you got back.

Whether it’s helping Remy, or fixing things for Lilith, or just showing up for Willa.

You are a big part of our town’s heartbeat, Tate. ”

I shake my head. “I can’t?—”

“You can,” she says, firm. “You’ve got this wild, stubborn loyalty that your father never had the courage to live into. You love hard, Tate. And this boat? It doesn’t have to be a ghost anymore.”

I look down at the deed again. It feels heavier than paper has a right to be.

“It’s yours now,” she says. “You decide what it becomes. Scrap it. Sell it. Restore it. Make it a charter boat, a shop, a floating bookstore, hell, build a crab shack on it. I don’t care.”

She smiles, soft and a little sad. “It’s a blank page. A fresh start. Just be happy, son. You deserve that.”

The wind shifts again, colder this time, and I let the words settle. “You’re really giving this to me?”

“I’m not giving it to you, the whole town is,” she says gently. “It’s time to start building your own legacy now. The town pulled together and bought this back for you.”

I don’t realize I’m crying until I feel the tears on my cheeks. I swipe them away with the back of my hand and laugh under my breath. “I don’t even know where I’d start.”

“You’ll figure it out,” she says. “Start with what this town needs. And what you need. You’ll find the middle.”

We stand in silence for a minute, both of us looking at the boat.

Then I ask quietly, “What do you think he’d say? My dad.”

Donna hums. “I think he’d be proud. And a little pissed that you’re gonna do it better than he ever did.”

I huff a laugh.

“But you’re not him, Tate,” she adds, voice firmer now. “You never were. You have to be you. You can’t live his life. You have to live yours.”

I nod slowly and look up at her. “Thank you. For this. For everything.”

Donna steps forward and hugs me, tight and warm. “I love you, sweetheart. Just take care of her. And yourself.”

She starts back toward town, coat flapping, leaving me with the boat and the silence and the possibilities.

I climb aboard for what feels like the first time. She’s really mine.

The deck creaks under my weight, and the cold air bites at my cheeks, but something stirs deep in my chest, something I haven’t felt since I was a kid standing at the bow, pretending I was headed toward some brave new life. I feel hope.

I walk to the stern, lean against the rail, and stare out at the open water. The future used to terrify me. Now I think maybe I’m ready to chart my own course. With Willa, naturally.

And whatever that looks like, this boat’s coming with us.