Page 8 of Manors & Mischief

I peer down at my handiwork, inspecting one of the wood business corrals we use in the center of town market. The inside shelf had gotten loose last year when Mrs. Worthington placed too many of her pumpkin pies on top. She wasn’t very happy, but I got away with a free—if not disheveled looking—pie. It didn’t bother me. Still tasted the same.

“There you are,” a female voice pipes up behind me, and I instantly recognize it.

“Inspecting and fixing the fall booths. Just like what’s on the schedule.” I turn to give my mother—and the mayor—a smile.

She reaches onto her tiptoes and gives me a peck on the cheek. The smell of apples greets me. She has an aroma for every season. I think she even marks the days to switch perfumes on her personal calendar. “I wanted to check in on you. You left the meeting in a hurry yesterday.”

“I wasn’t happy.”

“I think the whole room figured that out. What were your words? What the actual fuck?” She gives me a disapproving look.

Sometimes I think she repeats my words back to me just so she can swear and not feel bad about it. “It’s Sleepy Hollow Manor, Mom.”

“She’s a new neighbor, Devon. What have I always told you about Harvest Falls? It only works when everyone comes together. It’s the beauty of living in a small town.” She peers around at the square, then further where Main Street intersects.

If I didn’t live here, I wouldn’t think a place like this existed. It really is a quintessential small town where everyone knows everyone else’s name. “Do you want me to apologize?”

“I do.”

“I’m sor⁠—.”

“Not to me!” She pulls her green and blue plaid jacket closer. “To her.”

I laugh. “I don’t think that would be well-received. Plus, I’m pretty sure we won’t have to worry about her much longer.” I try not to smile, but I can’t hide it. The thought of Princess still stuck with one foot through her porch had me sleeping like a baby last night. At this rate, she’ll be ready to offload the property, and I’ll be able to buy it for a song.

When Mom doesn’t answer, I turn toward her. A frown pinches her face. I know that look. It’s the one she wears when she’s worried all her lists and plans won’t work. “If it makes you feel any better, I did try to apologize last night. I dropped her car off with a full tank of gas. She accused me of stealing it.”

Mom chuckles, her pumpkin earrings swinging freely. “Well... She’s probably not used to small town hospitality.”

“I returned it. I didn’t take it for a joy ride.”

She ignores me. “Which is why we need to show her what Harvest Falls is all about.”

She’s in Mayor mode now. Mom is one of those people who thinks there’s nothing better than living in a town with zero stoplights, and only a smattering of stop signs. Where you can leave your door unlocked overnight. She cannot comprehend why anyone would want to live anywhere else.

Plus, I know she’s still imagining that Fall Ball Ember proposed. I have to give it to the new girl, she must have done her research. Years ago, Sleepy Hollow Manor always hosted the Fall Ball. It was the cherry on top of the Fall Spectacular. There’s nothing my mother enjoys more than nostalgia.

“Well, you can count me out of whatever scheme you come up with.” I clench my jaw together, then visibly have to relax it. “You know how badly I want the property.” All those nights spent dreaming are now down the toilet. What a waste. And on someone like Ember, too. “Don’t you think Sleepy Hollow Manor should’ve gone to someone who knows a little bit about the town? Not a complete outsider?”

“You’ve had years to buy it, Devon. Years.”

I grind my teeth together. “It was overpriced. That place needs so much work.”

“Which is why you’re going to help her.”

I scoff. “No.”

“Devon.”

“Mom.” She gives me a look, so I lower my voice and take some of the bite out of my response. “I’m not helping Ember fix up the house so she can steal my dream away from me.”

“So, which one is it, Devon? Is she about to leave? Or is she stealing your dream away still? Because from what I know, you catch more bees with honey.”

She pats my shoulder and then walks away, inspecting the wooden corrals as she goes.

Mom may be right, but that doesn’t mean I have to listen to her. There’s more than one way to get what I want, and the sooner Ember realizes she won’t be able to handle taking care of that big house, the quicker she’ll be gone, forced to sell for pennies on the dollar.

My phone rings, so I fish it out of my pocket while my mom waves for my attention, pointing down at one of the corrals where a piece of the front wood is cracked. I give her a thumbs up. It was next on my list to fix.