by Scott, Lisa
Since I’d cried off most of my makeup on the ride over, I figured I’d take the pumpkin costume for the day. I could just paint my face orange and be done with it. All the employees at Gruber’s Barn had to dress up for the fall festival. The teenaged girls who worked there always grabbed the cute costumes, like the sexy, purple witch outfit, or the mermaid with the ripped tail, fastened together with safety pins. Someone had been smart enough not to use duct tape—probably a woman.
I usually got stuck with the scarecrow or the clown, but I wasn’t feeling funny enough today to pull that off. A bright orange pumpkin would suit me fine for my sad Saturday.
If that wasn’t bad enough, since I was running a few minutes late, all the fun jobs were taken, too. Mindy and Trina—the teenaged cute-costume-stealers—were manning the helium-balloon tank and dunking-for-apples booth. The owner’s son was wearing the pirate costume, handing out cider and candy, while Gayle, my only real friend at the place, wore the scarecrow costume while she manned the gift shop. She flapped a straw-filled glove at me as I walked by.
I ducked in the shop to say hello.
“Tell me about your wild Friday night,” she said, smacking open a roll of dimes on the cash register drawer. Gayle was happily married and thought I should be living some swinging-single lifestyle so she could live vicariously.
“Kids’ Halloween party. I was the only adult dressed up. Super fun.” Then I thought of Jeff’s contagious laugh. “I did meet a nice guy.”
She raised her thick painted-on eyebrow. “Oh? Are you going out?”
I shook my head. “You know me. But he was funny and cute. A police officer. Jeff Williams.”
Her eyes widened and a knowing grin appeared. “I know Officer Williams. Officer Hottie, as my friends like to call him. He went out with my friend, Lucy.” She twisted her lips. “And Tara. She speeds when she’s in his precinct, hoping he’ll pull her over.”
He’s a player. “Well, he won’t be going out with me.” I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. “Off to pumpkin punishment.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m so glad you’re always late. I hate pumpkin duty.”
I trudged off to the only assignment left. I was going to be in charge of pumpkin painting—always messy, never fun.
This day was certainly doing a number on my self-esteem. I stepped into the enormous costume, slathered orange paint on my face—adding eyes and a black frown—then slapped on my green cap. I waddled out to the picnic table in front of the huge pumpkin patch and sat down on the edge of the bench. Every kid who bought a pumpkin got to paint a little one and take it home for free. But the kids usually weren’t happy with just one pumpkin, or they wanted colors we didn’t have, or dropped them on the ground and cried when they got dirt and gravel on their wet paint.
Looking down at myself, I frowned. No worries about meeting a guy in this costume.
Jerry Gruber, the owner, came by with a wagon filled with little pumpkins for me. “I did some extra advertising this week, so this should be our busiest weekend ever.”
“Yay!” I tried to sound enthusiastic. Gruber’s wasn’t my full time job. It was just a way to pick up a little extra cash for the holidays. I worked Monday through Friday as a receptionist at a hotel in town. My dream was to open a gift shop, but now with all the bills to pay on my own, that would never happen. At least if Bill had dumped me I could blame this all on him.
The only plus about the job was that Jerry let me sell my crafts there. That’s how I’d found out about this part-time gig, anyway. I’d stopped by to see if he’d be interested in selling my fall wreaths and arrangements, and I saw that they were looking for someone to help out on Fall Fest weekends. Back in August it’d seemed like a good idea, and the money would help pay for all the craft supplies. I’d gone a little overboard after the divorce. Bill had always hated when I did crafts, moaning and complaining about all the supplies. So, I bought tons of supplies once he was gone; but the only thing that had hurt was my credit card balance.
If only I could show him some day it wasn’t just a silly little hobby I “diddled around with,” as he’d liked to say. Grumbling, I stood up and arranged the painting supplies.
The morning started off slowly until people started picking out and paying for their pumpkins. By noon, three different kids had started crying when it was time to leave, two had spilled paint, and another had thrown his pumpkin at his baby sister. Luckily, he didn’t appear to have a future as a major league pitcher. I was fishing his pumpkin out of the garden behind me when I heard a familiar voice. “You had so much fun in the cat costume, you couldn’t help yourself, could you?”
No, no, no. Looking at the apple orchard on the other side of the pumpkin patch, I thought about running for it. But I didn’t like to run in general, and certainly not in a pumpkin costume. I sucked in a deep breath and turned to him. “Hello.”
Jeff wasn’t even trying to hide his grin.
“How did you know it was me?” I asked as calmly as I could.
“I spotted you from across the parking lot. No one has red hair like yours. It really stands out against the orange.” He rubbed his chin as he checked me out in my orange glory. I’m sure my blush added to the whole burnished effect.
I patted my hair. “It’s a nice touch, right?”
“Very nice.” He pushed his son toward me. “Trey, say hello to Chelsea’s mom.”
He looked up from the caramel apple he was finishing. “Hi. Where’s Chelsea?”
I smoothed the front of my pumpkin costume, as if that would help anything. “She’s with her dad.”
Licking his fingers, he nodded. “My dad’s dropping me off at my mom’s after this.” He looked down and kicked a stone.
I caught Jeff’s eye and we stared at each other, sharing a moment of sadness that divorce leaves in its wake.
Then Jeff rubbed his hands together, a devilish twinkle returning to his eyes. “How many costumes do you have for Halloween, anyway?”
I looked down at the reams of orange fabric billowing over me. “Oh, I can’t claim this beauty. This belongs to Gruber’s. Want to paint a pumpkin, Trey?”
“Sure.” He settled at the picnic table and I set him up with supplies.
“This is where you work?”
“Only as a part time gig in the fall. Gotta make up extra money where I can, you know?” I set a small pumpkin in front of Trey.
Jeff picked it up. “This is kind of a reverse Cinderella thing. When do you switch from a pumpkin back into a woman? I’d really like to see you out of costume.” One eyebrow raised.
I blushed, and he noticed. Then his cheeks reddened. “Well, not entirely out of costume… you know what I mean,” he said quickly, faking a cough and setting the pumpkin down.
It was cute to see him flustered. “I’m done at five.”
“Wanna catch dinner? I can pick you up after I drop off Trey.”
My heart raced; from dread or lust, I wasn’t sure. Either way, it scared me. “Most places don’t allow pets or pumpkins.”
“Right. Good thought. You could change and meet me somewhere, or I could pick you up.”
I twisted my lips. It was strange to run into him two days in a row. Was this fate telling me something? I shook off the idea. I didn’t believe in fate or feelings or intuition anymore. Not when mine had been one hundred percent wrong about Bill. I decided to marry him because I’d met him on the day I’d turned nineteen at a concert. I thought it was lucky—he agreed, and got lucky—and look how that’d turned out. Plus, “Officer Hottie” was probably just looking for a good time, too. So why bother starting anything?
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. Being a pumpkin takes a lot out of a girl. But thanks.”
His smile disappeared and he shrugged. “You’ve still got my number if you’d like to join me at the party next week.”
“Right. Thanks.” I adjusted the cap on my head as if I were wearing a couture outfit from that fancy store downtown, Sublim
e.
Luckily, a line was forming, so I had to turn my attention away from Jeff and his eyes that seemed too kind to belong to a player. He’d be a nice Halloween treat for some other lucky lady. Like the woman next to him, checking him out while her hubby supervised the pumpkin painting.
But the feeling of regret was still there by the end of the day. Jerry approached me as I was leaving. “Can you whip up some more arrangements? They’re selling well. Maybe do something with the pumpkins, too? Grab whatever you need before you leave. We’ve got a bumper crop this year.”
“Great.” And that was another reason not to go out to dinner. I was too busy with my crafty creations. Right. But the news that my work was selling was reason to smile. And it inspired me to make them even better.
I stopped by Your Heart’s Desire florist on my way home. So far, I’d been using silk flowers in my arrangements. I wanted to see how fresh flowers would do, and an empty pumpkin would be the perfect “container,” so I brought a pumpkin in with me to match up with flowers.
Browsing through the bouquets on display, I decided to get some cattails, mums, gerbera daisies, and purple asters. I smiled at the woman behind the counter. “Excuse me, I’m looking to make some arrangements with pumpkins. Can I buy bulk flowers from you?”
She set down her floral shears. “I usually don’t sell from my stock, but if you bring me a few arrangements to sell, I’ll make an exception and give you a discount.”
“Sounds great. I’m Marnie James.”
She offered her hand. “Lynn Preston. How does twenty dollars per arrangement sound?”
“Great.” The pumpkins were free, and I’d limit myself to eight dollars worth of flowers per pumpkin, along with some wild Queen Anne’s Lace growing along the road in front of my house. See? I don’t need a man. I’m plenty busy with other things.
***
The flowers were a nice distraction, but I mentally kicked myself later that night as I ate my frozen dinner-for-one. What would’ve been the harm in going out with a nice, funny guy? A guy who was also divorced and knew how hard it was being out there alone, trying to find love again?
Only, I wasn’t trying. Lots of women never remarried. Like my best friend’s mother divorced at twenty-six and never remarried. She’d never even had another boyfriend as far as we knew. Maybe I’d be one of those women. Not with Jeff. Don’t waste your time. I sighed, and tossed the remains of the not-so-satisfying lasagna in the trash.
I cleared off the kitchen table and spread out my flowers and pumpkins. I’d brought home a dozen, and I’d spent seventy-five dollars on flowers. I winced, thinking of that credit card statement. Hopefully, shoppers would like fresh flowers, too. Then I panicked. Maybe they only liked the silks because they could use them year after year?
I’ve got to make these really unique. After scooping out the insides and cutting off the tops, the pumpkins looked rather boring in comparison to the pretty vases and baskets I’d been using with the silk flowers.
Admiring the scalloped edge of a vase we’d gotten for our wedding—and wondering if I should get rid of it—I copied the pattern on the pumpkin. On another, I etched in blacks cats, stars, and moons. I inserted absorbent oasis material in the bottom of the pumpkin to hold the water, and arranged the flowers.
The night flew by. As I stepped back to admire my work, I realized it was midnight. I collapsed in bed, exhausted. But I had time enough to think about what an evening with Jeff would have been like, instead. Strange; in the ten months since my divorce, I hadn’t lain in bed thinking about anyone.
***
I dropped off four arrangements at the floral shop the next morning. Lynn was thrilled. “Can you make more? These are gorgeous. I’m increasing your payment to twenty-five dollars each.” She set one in her display window at the front of the store.
At Gruber’s, the eight arrangements sold out before the day was over and Jerry insisted I take three-dozen pumpkins home and restock some the next day. My spirits were high when I drove to Bill’s to pick up Chelsea. Then I saw them playing catch in the front yard—with the new girlfriend.
Good feelings gone. I took a deep breath, got out of the car, and faked a smile.
Chelsea ran over. “Mommy! I caught the ball seven times!”
“She’s a natural,” said the too-pretty brunette tossing a ball in the air.
I sucked in a breath and walked over to them. “Hi, I’m Chelsea’s mother, Marnie.”
“I’m Pam. Nice to meet you.” Shaking her hand, I noticed her slim fingers were perfectly manicured. Bill always gave me a hard time when I’d spent money on a manicure.
Bill wrapped his arm around her waist. “We had a great time.”
My throat tightened, watching him so happy with someone. Had he ever looked like that with me? “Good, I’m glad.”
Bill kissed Pam on the cheek. “She’s a natural with kids.”
I felt my eyes widen and my stomach tumble. “Super.” I looked at Chelsea. “We should get going, sweetie.”
“Aww. I’m having fun with Pam.”
Oh, child. Just kick me in the stomach. It’d hurt less.
Bill turned to me. “Hey, I know next week it’s your weekend with Chelsea, but Pam is the PR director for the hockey team and has tickets to the game Saturday. It’s family night. Can we swap weeks? I can pick her up and bring her back.”
Chelsea looked at me and stuck out her bottom lip. “Please, Mommy?”
I was outnumbered. I didn’t want to seem like an insecure spoilsport. “Sure.”
“Yay!”
Pam wrinkled her cute nose. “Thanks so much, it’s really kind of you.”
“No problem.” Oh, I wanted to find something wrong with this woman. But she was beautiful, considerate, and nice to my kid. And Bill seemed wild about her. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he called me later that night to thank me for breaking up our marriage.
***
Chelsea and I usually had a special dinner the night after she came back from her dad’s, but I was so busy with my flower order that we just had pizza. She helped me scoop out the seeds and chattered on the whole time about how cool and fun and pretty Pam was.
The knot in my stomach grew tighter and tighter. Bill was moving on with his life and I was getting cozy with flowers? I’d spent my Saturday night covered in pumpkin seeds. I felt like Cinderella, alright—Cinderella before the fairy-godmother-makeover. And I didn’t think she’d be showing up anytime soon. I thought about Jeff’s business card in my purse. I wouldn’t have to find a sitter for Chelsea since she’d be with her dad. I could go to the party with Jeff.
I promised myself I’d call him the next day.
***
I started dialing his number and hung up—three times. I hadn’t called a guy since Jimmy Nelson, back in high school. Bill and I were in college when we met at the concert, and married right after. My dating experience was weak. But I sucked up my courage and let the phone ring without hanging up.
My chest was tight when he answered and I cleared my throat. “Hi Jeff, it’s Marnie. From the party? And the pumpkin patch?” Man, I’m a dork.
“Hey, Marnie. What are you wearing?”
“Excuse me?” Was this the right Jeff?
“I’m assuming you’ve got a costume on. You usually do.”
I laughed, relieved it was another one of his goofy jokes. “It’s just me today. But, I do have a costume in mind for the party this weekend. Is the invitation still open?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Great. It’ll be fun.”
“I’ll pick you up at six.”
I gave him directions to my place and downed a glass of wine.
***
It was a long week, waiting for the party. My arrangements sold out at the florist and I had to restock them at Gruber’s, too, for the weekend rush. I didn’t want to go to the party as a dumpy cat, or a pumpkin. I needed something sexy and cute. With my flower earnings, I bought a revealing
pirate costume.
But as I got dressed Saturday night, my confidence was floundering. My cleavage was spilling out of the laced-up bodice. Did I look sexy or chubby? I wasn’t sure. The red and white striped scarf I’d tied on flattened my hair. I turned around in the mirror several times, not certain if I looked hot or not. I hadn’t dressed to impress in years.
Jeff showed up at my door dressed as a cowboy, holding a gift box. “Evening ma’am.” He tipped his hat. “Since vampires don’t do it for you, I thought I’d try something different.”
I led him inside. “What happened to the Smarties?”
“Trey ate them all.”
“Damn kids.”
“You look great.” His gaze took me in from head to toe. “I can’t promise I won’t make any plundering jokes. Or booty jokes. That’d be too hard.” Then he remembered he was holding a box. “A little something for you. I was going to get roses, but that’s predictable. And you’re anything but predictable.” His eyes twinkled. “This made me think of you and your love of pumpkins.”
I took the box from him and opened it. I laughed. “Oh, my God.” It was one of my pumpkin arrangements. “This is incredible.”
“I know, I thought so, too. It’s like a little work of art.”
“I mean, I made this. I sell them at the orchard and at Your Heart’s Desire.”
His smile fell. “I bought you something you made?” He scrunched his eyebrows together. “Does that even count, now?”
“Of course! Come here.” I led him into the kitchen where my handiwork was still spread out. “It’s something new I’ve been trying.”
He picked up a pumpkin I’d started etching. “Nice work. You’re really talented.”
“Thanks.” He was just piling up the points. Despite the campy Halloween costume, he looked handsome in his cowboy hat, and those chaps accented nice thigh muscles. I cleared my throat. “Should we get going?”