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“You look beautiful,” he says softly.
“Thank you.”
“You ready?”
I nod, and we move down the stairs.
He holds the passenger door for me and helps me into the truck.
It’s a short drive down to Main Street. By now it’s dark, and the Fall Festival is all lit up two blocks down the street.
Baja gets lucky and grabs a spot as a car pulls out of a prime parking place.
“Wait there,” he says and comes around to open my door for me. I’m getting used to the gentlemanly way he treats me.
We walk down the street about half a block, and he stops in front of a place that has a line out the door. I peer in through the window and see its all decked out with white tablecloths and candlelight. The dinner menu is posted in the window, and I scan it, noticing the high prices. At the same time, the aroma of grilled brats and roasted ears of corn wafts down the street from the festival. Music echoes from speakers. It’s a lively German polka band, and it makes me smile.
A group ahead of us moves into the doorway, and the line shuffles forward.
“Did you make a reservation?” I ask.
“I did. Why?”
“I’m sure it’s lovely, and the food would be delicious, but…” I bite my lip and stare down the street.
“But?”
“Would you mind if we did something else?”
“What would you like to do?”
“Go to the park and get some of that roasted corn I smell. And a brat.”
His grin is huge. “Girl after my own heart. Let’s go.” He takes my hand, and we walk arm in arm down the sidewalk. It’s crowded, and the laughter of children surrounds us. Just like he said, there are a hundred pumpkins all lit up under the huge trees, and they’ve strung tiny fairy lights in the branches above, making the entire place look enchanting.
“Oh, how pretty,” I say. “It’s magical.”
We wait in line and get our food and a couple of beers, then find a bench near the pumpkins.
Baja lifts his red plastic cup for a toast. “To a really good idea.”
I tap my plastic cup to his. “The best.”
After a sip, I dig into my food, moaning around a mouthful. “Mmm. So good.”
“I haven’t been to this festival in years.”
“Really? Why?”
He shrugs, but there’s sadness in his eyes, and I think there must be something in his past he’s not telling me. I want to ask, but I don’t want to push him. I have to hope that when he’s ready to share, he’ll tell me. Instead, I change the subject.
“Want to know a secret? When I was a little girl, Halloween was my favorite holiday.”
“More than Christmas?”
I nod. “I mean, Christmas is pretty great, but I loved the excitement of going around the neighborhood with all the other kids, all of us dressed up, and then of course there was the candy.”
He laughs. “Of course. The candy.”
