Page 32 of A Fall to Remember

The DJ announced that the first age category was making its way toward the gazebo now. “Give it up for over-fifties! Remember, your voice counts, too. Our judges will be scoring each costume on originality, details, design, and more. But I’ll be asking for your applause. If you see a costume you love, be sure to whoop and holler because there is a crowd favorite award, too.”

“They’re figuring it out right now, but they want to roll with this idea of setting me up on dates,” Pete whispered over the noise of the crowd. “They’re even talking about sending me on dating adventures—like a ski trip in Switzerland or backpacking in Oregon.”

“Shut up.” Elise punched him in the arm. “You agreed to this? You?”

Pete nodded, enjoying watching his cousin’s reaction. “I did.”

“You agreed to getting set up with strange women. No chance.” Elise shook her slowly. “Aunt Mimi, is he okay?”

Mom pressed her hand to his forehead like she was trying to make sure he wasn’t feverish. “He feels fine.”

Pete rolled his eyes and chuckled. “I don’t know what came over me. It was a split-second decision to say yes. But like I told Mom, she’s my inspiration. I figured if she was brave and agreed to put herself out there on the internet for everyone to see, I could do it, too.” He just wished he could be brave about his personal quest. If she knew he was looking for his dad, would it change things between them?

“Yeah, but your mom isn’t dating a bunch of dudes,” Elise said. “This is way different, Pete. You’re basically like the social media version of The Bachelor.”

His stomach churned at that thought. “No. I trust Shelby. She’ll be there. She’ll probably travel with me if Voyager decides they want this to go bigger.”

“Ah, okay, okay, I see.” Elise’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “It all makes sense now.”

“What?” Pete’s throat closed tight. Did Elise sense that he had a crush on Shelby? He wouldn’t put it past his cousin. Sometimes he felt like she knew him better than he knew himself.

“Nothing,” Elise said breezily. Then she looped her arm through his and nodded toward the gazebo. “We’ll talk about it later. Pay attention. The contest is starting.”

25

MIRANDA

Later that evening, after the costume contest and pie-eating contest (her personal favorite), Miranda had returned home, changed, and was waiting for Pete and Elise to pick her up for the farm-to-table dinner. The event was taking place at Banner Farms, just on the outskirts of town. A soft knock sounded on her front door. Pete and Elise never knocked. They both had keys. Their cottages were adjacent with a small shared yard between them.

“Come in, it’s open,” she called, giving her appearance a final check in the hallway mirror. She had tied her hair into a messy bun and dusted her cheeks with an iridescent powder Elise had given her for her birthday. She’d added a pair of silver dangling earrings and dressed in layers. Once the sun set, it would get cold, or at least California cold. She opted for a pair of jeans, boots, an ombre turtleneck sweater, and a matching coffee-colored shawl.

The knock sounded again.

Miranda went to the door, expecting to see Pete or her niece. Instead, Jim stood on her porch with a bundle of chocolate, saffron, and vivid yellow sunflowers tied with a burlap ribbon. He had changed, too. He was dressed for an evening outside in a pair of slacks, a black-and-gray flannel, and a black fleece vest. Her breath caught in her chest at the sight of him. His distinguished jawline. That salt-and-pepper beard and hair. He even smelled good—like cedarwood and spice.

“I heard you might need a ride,” he said, thrusting the bouquet at her. “These are for you. An apology. I’m sorry about how everything went down with the video. I never would have put Pete in the middle. I hope you know that.”

“Uh, yeah, thank you. The flowers are lovely.” Miranda fumbled over her words, feeling tongue-tied. She stood in the entryway staring at the flowers, holding her hand over her stomach to stop it from rumbling. She was nervous now. She wanted to trust him, but she needed to establish some clearer boundaries. “I will admit I was upset earlier, but Pete reminded me yet again that he’s an adult and can make his own decisions. I forget that sometimes, and I go into Mama Bear mode. But I do think it would be helpful if we take a beat. This is all new to me, and I want to make sure I’m thinking things through properly.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Of course.” Jim bobbed his head in agreement. “That’s on me. I was excited to get the campaign up and running, and the parade was loud and busy. I should have waited and had you take a better look. I swear, I did not have an ulterior motive. I thought it was a sweet mom-moment, that’s all. But it won’t happen again. I promise.” Jim took a step back, as if he were about to retreat. “Sorry, am I imposing?”

“No, no, not at all. Please, come in.” Miranda moved to make room for him. “I thought you were Pete and Elise. They’re supposed to be picking me up.”

“About that. Slight change in plans.” Jim waited for her to close the door. “They’re doing some reconnaissance, so I gallantly offered to be your chauffeur if you’ll have me.”

“How very gracious of you.” Miranda laughed as she moved toward the kitchen to get a vase for the flowers. “Let me put these in some water.” She encouraged him to follow her to the kitchen, where she stood on her tiptoes to reach a vase on one of the open shelves next to her farm-style sink. The kitchen was her favorite room in the cottage, with its butcher-block island, open shelving, and scuffed hardwood floors. For fall, Miranda had decorated by hanging wreaths Elise had made with dried leaves and flowers from the garden over the windows.

“Here, let me get one down for you,” Jim offered. “You have quite the collection.”

“It comes with owning a boutique grocery store, and I like to dabble in gardening.” She gestured toward the glass door that led to the back garden. “Elise is the real floral artist. She designs all the bouquets we make in the shop.”

“What’s your fancy?” Jim asked, running his hand along the shelf like he was showcasing his wares. “Have you collected these over a long time?”

“Yes, although not intentionally. It began with finding a hand-painted ceramic vase and adding fresh daisies and spring roses. I always like flowers in the shop. Once Elise joined us, she took over that piece. Customers began commenting on her creations, and then started bringing vases. That one is blown glass from an artist in Seattle, and the pale pink next to it was a gift from a friend who found it at a flea market in Paris. If you think this is a lot of vases, you should see Elise’s collection.”

“I’m suddenly self-conscious of my flowers,” Jim said, a smile playing at his lips. “It sounds like I’m surrounded by real floral experts.”

“Not at all.” Miranda unwrapped the brown craft paper and twine from the sunflowers. “These are perfect. How did you know sunflowers are my favorite?”