Pumpkin King Read online

  He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, grumbles something about having to check on a tomato delivery, and leaves. I can’t imagine a dumber thing for a person to worry about than who is posting what on the bulletin board for his customers.

  After the pinched-faced man in the headset stalks off, I turn to Henry. “What was that all about?” I ask.

  Henry shrugs. “Oh, didn’t you hear? People don’t like me.”

  I laugh because that’s a ridiculous idea. “What terrible things have you done that Sarah and I should avoid your pumpkin patch?”

  Hearing her name, my toddler squirms in my arms, making me regret following the rule that dictates shoppers should not allow children to ride inside of grocery carts. She’s getting big for this wrap, even if the manufacturer’s guidelines say it’s meant to accommodate children much heavier than her. Whoever made these hippie-style wraps had not considered the wiggle factor.

  Expecting him to laugh and brush off the silly idea that he’s done something to earn the status of town pariah, I’m surprised when he answers with, “It’s a long story. I’m sure you’ll hear it from someone around town eventually.”

  I don’t know him well, but I do know one thing. Henry helped keep my Sarah entertained at the state fair. If it weren’t for him making my toddler laugh and buying her fair food and briefly running off to win her a stuffed unicorn, that day would have ended much earlier for us with a major toddler meltdown.

  I wince when I see he’s not kidding around about supposed rumors about himself. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up something painful,” I say.

  He shakes it off and changes the subject when he sees my job application in the cart, mingling with my small haul of groceries. “Looking for a job?”

  I nod. “There’s not much for me to do here, and I’m hardly qualified to work retail but…” I start to explain, but he cuts me off with a surprise proposition.

  “If you want a job at the pumpkin patch, it pays better than Norm. It’s seasonal, but you can start tomorrow and…uhm…there’s always lots to do year-round.”

  The pink flush in his cheeks tells me the year-round part is a lie. And also, I doubt a locally owned pumpkin patch and corn maze would pay better than the grocery store, but something tells me he just doesn’t want me working here. Like maybe he’d be sticking it to that miserly manager if I went to work for him instead of the supermarket.

  Well, I’m not above a little pettiness now and then. So far, I like Henry better than most people I’ve met here, even if he does have a secret scandal.

  I’m also desperate for a job; I’ve already dipped into my savings to pay first and last months’ rent plus deposit on an apartment here and I’d like to replenish that as soon as possible. A job that starts tomorrow is better than slogging through an application and interview process.

  Henry’s kind face, honey-colored beard, and flannel shirt that hugs his wide shoulders do not deter me from accepting the position under him, either, that’s for sure. As unethical as it might be to date one’s employer, that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy some eye candy while I’m…

  “Wait,” I say. “What will I be doing, exactly?”

  He flashes a congenial, laid-back smile and describes all the duties involved. It sounds like a little bit more physical labor than what I was expecting, but I’m up for a challenge.

  “I’ll do it,” I say. “I’d love to be under you. Work under you. I mean…yay, I have a job!” And now, I’m blushing redder than a lobster in a stockpot on high heat.

  He’s so happy I’ve accepted, and I’m so happy I have a job, that I feel compelled to hug him, which is ill-advised—and now just because the two of us clunk our heads together as a result of trying not to squish Sarah in the process.

  “Ow,” I say, laughing.

  “Oof,” he says, reaching out to touch my head but then stopping short of it. “Are you OK?”

  Sarah is laughing at both of us. “I’m fine. You?”

  He smiles down at me. “I’m perfect,” he says.

  Henry hands me a flyer with the address and phone number, and we agree on a time for me to start my duties in the morning. Sarah grabs the paper and immediately tries to bite it. “Sarah, no-no!” I say, gently retrieving the paper from between her chompers.

  “Huh. I think I’ll take this, too,” Henry says, pulling a tab from another flier advertising a pumpkin growing contest. “I bet Big Daddy’s got a chance of winning.”

  My new boss walks me and Sarah to my car, and I ask about whatever Big Daddy is, and he tells me all about his 600-pound pumpkin. Evidently, it takes years of soil amending and seed experimentation to grow something that big. “I got a little obsessed with the idea of trying to grow a really big one,” he says, and I have to work hard to keep the smirk to myself. Oh, the places my mind goes with that comment.

  Henry loads my groceries in the trunk for me without my asking, but I’m not going to argue. Then, he simply stands there, looking around, like he’s watching for other people.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” I say, watching him, curious to see if he’s going to leave voluntarily or if I might have to back over him with my car.

  He nods. “Sure thing. I’m just going to…wait here until you’re safely in your car with the doors locked if you don’t mind.”

  I cock my head. “Is there a serial killer on the loose in this town or what?”

  He shakes his head and chuckles. “No. I just…well…I don’t know why I’m doing it. It’s silly, I guess.” He rubs the meat of his palm against his sternum, appearing to feel mystified by his actions.

  Moments later I’m strapping Sarah into her car seat, both she and I wearing dopey grins on our faces. “No-no,” Sarah says, wagging her finger at me, apropos of nothing. I sigh heavily as I buckle myself in, lock the doors, and start up my beater of a car, then wave goodbye to Henry. I watch him walk away with the gait of a chilled-out man who is in no hurry.

  “I know, Sarah. I know. Dating my boss is a no-no,” I whimper.

  Checking my phone, I’m happy to see I’ve got a text from Rocket. But what she has to say chills me to the bone. Carl left me a voicemail. He didn’t sound threatening. Just wanted to know if I know where you are. Don’t worry, I’m not calling him back.

  I shake my head and think, That guy better watch out if he’s going to start harassing Rocket. Jet’s a Navy Reserve pilot and will knock Carl’s soft ass into the dirt without breaking a sweat.

  I hate that my friends are involved in my drama now. But I’m also grateful for it.

  “You shouldn’t go there.”

  Those are the words of my neighbor at the crappy little apartment complex on the morning of my first day of work.

  Helen, who lives in 1B, launches into a whole story about Henry Wood’s uncle as soon as I mentioned I was going to work at the Wood’s Pumpkin Patch.

  “You know what they did to this town, don’t you?”

  “I have no idea, Helen,” I say, sipping my Diet Coke while Sarah tugs me to the car. I’ve given up on the wrap; the girl needs to move those legs. “Auntie. House.” Ever since I told Sarah that Rocket would be watching her today while I went to work, she’s been campaigning to leave immediately.

  Ordinarily, I love a toddler-adjacent excuse to stop talking to the meddling Helen, but this time I’m intrigued. I’m about to find out what a terrible person Henry is.

  “Just a minute, Sarah, the grown-ups are talking.”

  She continues to tug and squeal and judging by her tone, I have about two minutes before the screaming begins.

  “Well. His uncle Howie scammed everyone in town. Got everyone to invest in his scheme to build a rainforest museum for children. Said it would be the only one like it in the whole country. He had blueprints, he had a developer come and speak to the town. People gave him money, but the building never happened. And then he died, and nobody knows what happened to the money.”

  “That’s awful,”
I say, full of sympathy. Nobody should get scammed out of their money, no matter how nosy they are. “But that doesn’t explain why everyone hates Henry for what his uncle did.”

  Helen rests her hands on her hips. “Well, how about this? When the investors approached Henry, he said he didn’t have the money. He said he had power of attorney for all of his uncle’s accounts—and there were many because he also engaged in check kiting—and every last one of them was empty. Then Henry told everyone who came calling that he was not legally obligated to pay back his uncle’s debts.”

  I bite my lip, already regretting what I’m about to say. “That’s sad but, legally, he’s not obligated to pay them back.”

  Helen looks affronted. “But it’s the right thing to do!”

  I twist my mouth and consider how to respond to this in a way that will keep peace with my neighbor. “The law doesn’t agree unless you were all considered stakeholders and there were contracts drawn up. What was the promised ROI? You could demand some kind of payout from his assets.”

  Her blank stare tells me she knows way less about this situation than she claims.

  I should hold my tongue but I can’t help it. “It sucks. But risk is built into investing. It hurts to not get your money back, yes. I sympathize. You and the others can certainly sue Howie’s estate. But from a legal standpoint, Henry has broken no laws, and you’re not likely to win in court.”

  Helen grunts. “We looked into a lawsuit, but it costs too much money to hire a lawyer to do all that poking around.”

  My guess is, no lawyer would take that case, but I don’t say that out loud.

  “Did you, yourself, lose money to Uncle Howie?”

  Helen shakes her head. “Not me personally, but I say ‘we’ as in the whole community. We were all hurt by what happened.”

  Sounds like she’s being a bit melodramatic, but I don’t say that either.

  “And then,” Helen continues, now getting really wound up, “he goes and buys a bunch of land to open a pumpkin patch, of all things? What are we supposed to think? That he didn’t have Howie’s money—our money—stashed away somewhere? Oh, he said it all came from savings, but trust me. Follow the money, dear. You’ll see.”

  Chapter Four

  Henry

  How did I get here? What does all this mean? I think, sipping my coffee and looking out at the corn maze, visible just down the hill from my front porch. Beyond the corn maze is the pumpkin patch, and I can see Big Daddy from up here.

  I’m not wondering how I got here with the corn maze or the pumpkin patch. I know exactly how obsessed I get once I latch on to an idea. I’m not regretting any of that.

  What I’m wondering about is, why in the world would I give a job to a woman I like and want to date?

  “Because I’m a good guy and she needs a job, and no way was I going to let her work for that schmuck at the supermarket,” I say to no one.

  No, because she’s cute and your first instinct was to keep her as close to you as possible, which means seeing her every day. And the only way to see her every day is to work with her.

  “Dude, that’s fucked up,” I tell myself. I talk out loud to myself a lot. “You can hire her or date her, but you can’t do both.”

  “That’s a relief. I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

  Startled, I spin around, almost spilling my coffee.

  Oh. Shit.

  Of course, it’s her. Jane. Her fitted flannel shirt is tied in a knot at the hem. Jeans hug every curve. And a pair of shitkickers. Her long hair is tied up into two space buns and she’s wearing no makeup except a little shine on her lips.

  I have to fire her on the spot. I’m so into staring at this vision, I’m going to get no work done today.

  “I was just talking to myself,” I say dumbly.

  “I know,” she says with a wide smile.

  “Because you’re my employee and that would be wrong. To ask you on a date,” I add.

  “I don’t date much anyway,” she says with a shrug. Her hands are tucked into her back pockets so her elbows stick out. With the sunlight shining from behind her, it looks like she’s got angel wings if I squint real hard. “It’s too hard making arrangements for sitters in a town where I know nobody.”

  “So, where’s Sarah today?”

  Jane explains that Rocket is babysitting until she’s able to find childcare. “Rocket and I go way back. When I needed…a change of scenery, she dropped everything and came to pick me up. I sold my Audi to pay off my apartment lease so I wouldn’t get sued for breach of contract and bought that bucket,” she says, gesturing to her car in the driveway, which is so old I’m shocked I didn’t hear her pull up to the house.

  “Rocket was so worried she flew across the country just so I wouldn’t have to travel alone with a toddler, and she wouldn’t let me pay for her plane ticket to come and get me. She let us stay with her in her tiny little trailer until I found a rental, and we barely had room to move around Sarah’s Pack ’n Play.”

  Not that I get a vote in the matter of who my best friend Jet settles down with, but this story makes me feel ten times better about his whirlwind romance with Rocket.

  “Rocket insists on watching Sarah for me during the day before she goes off to her job at night, and I wouldn’t ask her to babysit on her only nights off. Most guys have no interest in a toddler for a third wheel. So, that’s why I don’t date much.”

  Good, I think to myself. I’m glad nobody else is interested, because you’re mine. I know a good woman when I see one, and Jane is a good woman and an amazing mom. I like everything about her.

  “Their loss,” I say. We hold each other’s gaze for a few beats before she looks away self-consciously.

  “Oh,” she says brightly, and I sense a subject change. “I hope this is OK.” She gestures up and down at her ensemble.

  I smile and try not to lick my lips like a total perv. “It’s perfect for you. I mean…”

  I don’t finish because she interrupts. “I mean for work. It’s good for the work we’re doing today, right? The guy at the farm store said I needed these boots. If not, I can change out of these clothes.”

  “Yes, do. I mean, don’t. I mean, yes, that’s…that’s an appropriate use of clothes for you. I mean, not that you need to use clothes.”

  She laughs. “Excuse me?”

  Why am I such a creep around this lady? “I mean, yes, that’s a good outfit for what we have to do today. Ignore everything else I said.”

  To my relief, she laughs too. Not at me, but with me. I could not possibly like her more. My reckless feelings compel me to memorize the way she nervously fills the silence with her words, and tries to change the subject when everything she says and everything I say has a double meaning. I could talk to her and watch her all day.

  “Would you like some coffee before we start?” I offer. “I just brewed a fresh pot.”

  She wrinkles up her cute little button nose. “I’m more of a Diet-Coke-in-the-morning person. I know, bad habits.”

  I look around. “Sorry, I don’t have any of that.”

  Jane turns on a professional expression and says, “Actually, I’m fine. I’m caffed up already. It’s probably best if we keep the socializing to a minimum. For both our sakes. I’d love to go ahead and get started.”

  I nod, even though my chest is having that weird ache again. I like an employee who wants to get right to work. I like eager people, even if she’s not eager to be here to get to know me.

  “This way to the hay wagon,” I say, heading off to the old restored tractor, to which I’ve hitched up a wagon that’s loaded down with supplies. I offer a hand to help her step up. When she takes it, the touch of her hand does something to me. I feel her, not just across my skin but under it. I squeeze her hand gently before she lets go and finds a spot to sit inside the wagon, both of us pretending we didn’t feel anything at all in that little moment.

  It comes as no surprise, but Jane is a hard worker and doesn
’t complain once. She’s small but strong.

  By the time I’ve decided to break for lunch, the entire footpath through the corn maze has been cleared of debris and silage. I follow the trail around the entire maze—I think—but I can’t seem to find her. I’m worried the lunch I had delivered out here from the diner is going to get cold.

  This would be a good reason to have bought walkie-talkies. I add them to the mental list of things to shop for tonight in preparation for opening day. I hadn’t planned on hiring anyone to work this place with me, but if I had, then I would have been prepared. I swiftly climb to the top of the deer blind that I fashioned into a lookout tower, and gaze over the maze. I finally see her. She looks lost.

  “Jane, look up!” I wave both arms over my head.

  When Jane looks up and sees me, her face breaks open into that heartbreakingly perfect wide smile of hers. She waves back. Every part of me feels relief, right down to my toes. Oddly, my chest stops hurting. I cup my hands over the sides of my mouth to amplify my voice while I help her find her way out. “Go straight ahead! Then turn left, and left again! Good, now right! Right, and go straight until you get to the second left. Now look to your right and you’ll see the exit!”

  I bound down the stairs of the lookout tower, water in hand. Jane waltzes out of the exit to the maze, soaked in sweat but smiling. I’m not buying it. “Here,” I say, handing her a bottle of water. “I forgot how hot it can get in there. Drink this.”

  “Sorry for getting lost,” she says, gulping down her water.

  I scoff. “I’m the idiot who forgot to give you a map.”

  She shakes her head while taking another sip. The tiny droplet of sweat dripping down her neck dares me to watch where it goes as it travels over the cords in her neck, pooling for a moment in the dip at the base of her neck between her collarbones.