Maple Sugar Crush

by Beth Labonte

  “Lee?” I practically shouted, as soon as he’d said hello. “This is Josie Morgan. From the other day?”

  “Oh, hey, Josie! I was just about to call and thank you. That Maple Sugar Crush was amazeballs, just like you said. You are officially allowed to use that word. I went and got another one yesterday. Haven’t slept in days, but it’s totally worth it. What’s up?”

  “What’s up? How about printing my ad in the Portsmouth Herald?” I jabbed at the newspaper, as if he could see.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about the ad for my small, local dinner being advertised in another part of the state! How did that even happen?” There were a few seconds of silence on the other end of the line.

  “Oh, crap,” he finally said.

  “What?”

  “Well, the Portsmouth Herald is one of our sister companies. I…I must have emailed it over to them by accident. The advertising lady over there, her name is Jessica, which is similar to Jennifer, who’s the lady that does the layout over here in my office, and you know how autofill can be…”

  “Oh, Lee.”

  “Look, I’ve been a little jittery lately! It’s your fault! You got me hooked on those coffees!”

  “You cannot possibly be blaming this on me!”

  “What’s the big deal, anyway?” asked Lee. “You’re loaded! Why not rent out a big hall or a tent or something? It’ll be awesome. I’d go. Need a DJ?” I held the phone away from my ear as he started beat-boxing and drumming on his desk. I waited until someone in the office yelled at him to shut up. Probably Jennifer.

  “The big deal is that this was supposed to be a small, quiet dinner, for people who live in Autumnboro. If I wanted to deal with a mob of people hounding me for money, I’d have just gone home to see my family.”

  “But how are they even going to know you have a lot of money?”

  “Because, Lee, everybody in this town knows about my money. And all anybody from out of town has to do is to start chatting with the locals over their turkey dinner.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and looked over at Tom, who had been pretending to organize the old-fashioned stick candy. He looked back at me, his fluffy white eyebrows furrowed. My name and hometown had both been made public after I’d won the lottery, so it wasn’t like I’d been living some secretive, anonymous lifestyle or anything. But after moving up here to Autumnboro, my life had managed to remain pretty quiet. It was mostly just family that came around now, looking for cash. This dinner could potentially change all that.

  “Gee Josie, I’m sorry,” said Lee. “I didn’t do it on purpose. Do you want to call off the whole thing?”

  I sighed. Did I want to call off the whole thing? Not really. Even with the risk it posed, that didn’t change the facts I’d read in that newspaper article. People were alone and sad on Thanksgiving, and I wanted to help them. Now there were people from all around the state who’d seen my ad. Their spirits may have already been lifted at the news that they wouldn’t have to be alone this year.

  “No,” I said. “I don’t want to cancel it. It is what it is.”

  “Are you sure? You’re not going to tell my boss, are you?”

  “I’m not going to tell your boss,” I said, rolling my eyes and running my hand through my hair. I had to remind myself that Lee was just a kid who’d only chosen a job at the newspaper to avoid working at his uncle’s mini mart, and who could blame him for that? This would be a learning experience. “Hey, have you given any more thought to what we talked about? About college?”

  “A little,” he said, sounding relieved that I’d changed the subject. “I looked at a few schools online last night.”

  “That’s great!”

  “Sure, it is, until you look at how much they actually cost. How am I supposed to pay for that?”

  I smiled at the fact that he’d completely forgotten who he was talking to.

  “There are ways,” I said. “Trust me. Hey, I have to go. I have a huge dinner to plan, remember? I’ll see you around, Lee.”

  “Yeah, okay. See ya, lady.”

  I hung up the phone, looked at Tom, and put my face in my hands.

  “Soup’s on, eh?” said Tom.

  I nodded without looking up.

  So, this had gotten a little out of hand. Five turkeys weren’t going to cut it anymore. I knew I should have listened to my gut and ordered fifteen. The church basement wasn’t going to be big enough, either. I googled the Portsmouth Herald and saw that it had a circulation of almost ten thousand. Ten thousand! The only place I could think to hold this thing, on short notice, would be out in the middle of the town common. It was still close enough to the church that people would be able to find it, and I’d be able to fit as many tables and chairs as I could rent. I’d also probably have to get a permit from Town Hall in order to hold an event there. An event. How had my small good deed turned into an event? I was also going to have to rent buffet tables, and those warming trays you put all the food in. Plus, outdoor heaters and portable toilets. I couldn’t forget the toilets.

  I actually wouldn’t mind doing any of this, if it weren’t for the threat of the few lousy people who might try to take advantage of me. But I was determined not to let the bad apples ruin this for all the good guys. Thanksgiving was about being thankful for what you had, and I couldn’t think of a better way to show my gratitude for what I was given—even if it did sometimes have its downsides—than by sharing it with those less fortunate. The idea of this dinner had given me something to look forward to, rather than the usual stress and anxiety of an upcoming Thanksgiving dinner with my family. It would all work out.

  “I’m heading out for a few minutes,” I said to Tom. I needed to take a walk to clear my head, and maybe get some caffeine. I took Pixie across the street to The Shaky Maple. The large, colorful chalkboard behind the counter had been updated with its November theme. Someone with a lot of talent had drawn a turkey holding a coffee cup in the center of the board, with pilgrim hats and cornucopias in each corner. The list of specialty lattes had been updated to include pecan pie, gingerbread, and peppermint mocha.

  “Maple Sugar Crush, please,” I said to the barista. So, that was a definite yes to the caffeine, especially after Lee had gone and planted the idea in my head. As long as I wasn’t anywhere near QVC, it should be okay. “Actually, make it two.”

  I should probably bring one over to Riley and tell him I wasn’t going to be able to use the church basement after all. I felt a prickle of anticipation at the thought of seeing him again, even though the feeling was most definitely not mutual.

  By the time I arrived at the funeral home, my hands were like ice cubes from carrying two frozen coffees. Maggie wasn’t at her desk, which was good, since I hadn’t brought her anything to drink, but also bad, since she was my buffer any time conversation with Riley became awkward. Not that it mattered. I’d just hand him the coffee, tell him the news—maybe catch a whiff of his aftershave—and be on my way. There was no need to stick around, talking his ear off, like I had all summer.

  I placed the cups down on Maggie’s desk, rubbed my frozen hands together, and looked around. As many times as I’d been inside the funeral home, it still gave me the creeps. I mean, it’s lovely, in its own way. Lots of floral artwork, dimly lit lamps, and vases full of faux flowers. There’s a tissue box on every end table, and the restroom is always immaculate. The couches are a bit stiff, but it’s not like people come in here to hang out and watch TV. Overall, it’s nice. It’s just really, really…quiet.

  “Riley?” I called out. Pixie barked.

  I knew where his office was, and could have easily walked straight to it, but dogs aren’t officially allowed in here. Besides, I have this fear of accidentally bumping into a corpse. Like, a corpse laid out in a casket? Yes. Or, also, a reanimated corpse roaming the hallways looking for its family. My fear has no parameters. Riley once told me that they do all the dead body stuff in a totally different part of the buildi
ng (a building which is not very big to begin with, so not comforting at all), but I still wasn’t crazy about the idea of just strolling around willy-nilly, like I was at the mall.

  “Riley?” I called out again, louder, my voice echoing off the walls. Maybe he wasn’t even here. What if nobody was here and the door locked behind me and I had to stay here all night? I picked up a pamphlet from the corner of Maggie’s desk, trying to distract myself. On the cover was a smiling elderly woman reading through her own funeral documents, which totally didn’t help.

  “You know, you could have just come straight down to my office,” said Riley, making me jump as he walked into the room. Before he’d grown some facial hair, he used to look a bit like one of those roaming corpses I’d been so nervous about. He never seemed to get enough sun. But now, that scruffy beard was doing wonders for him. The butterflies in my stomach swirled right up into one of those big, scary insect tornados. The kind that keep me from ever moving to the Midwest.

  “Hey,” I said, quickly shoving the pamphlet back into its holder. It got stuck halfway and made a big crease down the middle of the elderly woman’s face. “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s fine. You can keep that, if you want. Hey, Pixie.” He reached down and petted her on the head as she stretched up his black pant leg, leaving a trail of white dog hair behind.

  “No, thanks,” I said, gently tugging Pixie’s leash so she’d come back to me. “Here. I brought you a coffee.” I handed it to him, trying to remain as cold and emotionless as possible. But the way his face lit up at the sight of that coffee, I totally melted inside.

  “Thanks,” he said, taking a long sip, his eyes still on me. It was awfully hot in here, for a funeral home. “What’s the occasion?”

  “No occasion,” I said, perching on the edge of Maggie’s desk. “Well, except for the fact that I accidentally invited half the world to my Thanksgiving dinner. That’s what I came by to tell you. The church basement isn’t going to work anymore. But thank you for trying.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “How the heck did you do that?”

  “It’s a long story,” I said, sliding back off the desk. I didn’t know why I’d gone and sat up there, anyway. I seemed to be quickly falling back into my old routine of making small talk with someone who clearly wasn’t interested. “And you probably need to get back to work. I’ll see you later, Riley.”

  Before he could reply, Pixie and I were out the door.

  Chapter 9

  I’d almost made it to the sidewalk, when I heard Riley’s voice behind me.

  “Wait.”

  I stopped and turned cautiously around. “Yes?”

  He’d stopped only a few feet away, and was holding up his coffee cup. “Does this mean we’re doing this again?”

  “Doing what again?”

  “You know…you coming by with a Maple Sugar Crush, us going out for walks. It was sort of like…our thing.”

  Pixie’s ears perked up at the word walk, mine at the words our thing. Had that really been our thing? It sure sounded nice, even if I wouldn’t have described it that way. But if Riley thought it was our thing, then hey…sign me up.

  “Um, yeah,” I said. “Sure. If you want to. I didn’t even think you’d noticed when I stopped coming.”

  “Of course, I noticed.”

  “I’m sure you missed the free coffees,” I pressed on, pausing to glare at a Budget rental truck speeding around the common. “But I’m sure you didn’t miss me blabbing away in your ear while you were trying to concentrate on your game.”

  “I liked the company.”

  “Oh,” I said, completely thrown by this statement. “You, um, you never seemed very chatty. So, I…I didn’t know.” Pixie looked up at me and barked, as if to ask why we hadn’t yet moved along to somewhere warm. I crouched down to pet her, avoiding eye contact with Riley.

  “I’m not very chatty with anyone,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and gazing off across the common. Then he looked down at me, his brows knit together. “Wait. Is that why you stopped coming?”

  The smart thing to do would be to say yes. What the smart thing wouldn’t be would be telling him the truth. Unfortunately, the truth had been bubbling up inside of me for months, and apparently there was no stopping it now.

  “Sort of,” I said, standing up. “Look, I can take a hint, Riley. I saw how you looked when you were actually having a good time with someone. And you never once looked that way when you were hanging out, walking around town, with me. So…that’s why I stopped coming.”

  “Who’d you see me having such a great time with?”

  “Nobody. Forget it.”

  “It couldn’t have been Kit or Amy. Those two make me nauseous these days.”

  “It wasn’t them.” I laughed. I’d had the same thought, but been too polite to say it. “I saw you with, um, Catrina. Catrina Corman. One time.” I cringed as the words came out of my mouth, but it was too late now. There they were. Riley gave me an odd look. “What?” I asked.

  “When did you see me with her?”

  “Oh, I don’t remember,” I said breezily, trying to play it down. “It was just one day over the summer. I was passing by and I saw you two on the, um”—I coughed—“the tire swings.”

  “Oh, that,” he said, almost laughing as he shoved his free hand into his pants pocket and took a step back. “I was trying to get Darlene Murphy a better deal on a headstone, so I bought Catrina a coffee and told her to meet me on the common. She’s a goofball. I figured acting like one too might butter her up a little.”

  “Did it work?”

  “I wasn’t voted Autumnboro’s best funeral planner for nothing.”

  “Aren’t you the only funeral planner in Autumnboro?”

  “You’re funny.”

  I smiled. “Well then, Riley, you’re a great salesman, and an even better actor.” My spirits lifted at the fact that he hadn’t actually been enjoying himself with Catrina, and that maybe my only competition was that five-inch rectangle in his pocket (totally not a euphemism). Of course, competition was only a thing if you were trying to win at something, which I wasn’t. The only reason I’d come here was to tell Riley about the dinner—which I’d already done—so I should really get going. “I’ll see you around. Come on, Pix.” I turned to leave.

  “I have to run some paperwork over to Town Hall,” Riley called after me. “Want to come?”

  I stopped in my tracks. Of course, I wanted to come. And, I mean, if he was going over there anyway, what was the harm? It wasn’t like it was a date or something. It was just a walk to a government building. I’d walked to Town Hall with ninety-year-old Ed Woodbury when he’d needed a copy of his wife’s death certificate, and we hadn’t fallen in love with each other.

  “Okay” I said. “Sure. I’ll come.”

  As we walked, I gave him the full story of how Lee had managed to so royally mess up my ad. From there, I told him about how shocked Lee had been when he learned I’d never done much traveling.

  “I mean, just because someone has a lot of money, why does that mean they have to travel? I spent a lot of money on my house. I’m not just going to leave it to get all dusty and stuffy while I go traveling around the globe.”

  “You could hire a maid?”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “I thought it was?”

  “The point is that I have plenty to do right here in Autumnboro. I have the store, and the inn, and volunteering at the senior center. And one of these days Moose is going to offer me a job.”

  “And I thought I was the introvert,” said Riley.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I mean, I’m the one who likes to stay home. You’re the extrovert, Josie. You would love traveling and meeting new people.”

  I just shrugged.

  “You told me once,” he said, glancing over at me, “that you don’t travel because you have a fear of flying, and a fear of boats, and what was it? Travel diar
rhea?”

  I nodded solemnly. That was nothing to joke about.

  “So, which is it? Are you too busy to travel, or do you have a bunch of phobias?”

  “Can’t it be both?”

  “Maybe. But it sounds more like a bunch of mixed-up excuses. What’s your deal?”

  What’s your deal? Just the words a girl wants to hear from her crush.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, if you actually do have all those phobias, how’d you get them? They don’t just come out of nowhere.”

  “Well, maybe they’re not exactly, one hundred percent phobias,” I said, bobbing my head back and forth. “Okay? Maybe I just tell people that because it’s easier than explaining the truth.”

  “Which is?”

  We were coming up on Pumpkin Everything, and I came to a stop in front of the store. A Back in 10 Minutes sign had been taped to the door. I’d never told this to anybody before. Maybe because nobody had ever asked, maybe because I knew how nuts I would sound. But, for some reason—just as the truth about Catrina Corman had bubbled up—I suddenly wanted Riley to know.

  “Come on inside for a minute.” I unlocked the door and Riley followed me in. It was quiet inside the store, the scent of all the fall spices both warm and welcoming.

  “I can’t remember the last time I was in here,” said Riley, picking up a little log cabin incense burner from the shelf by the door.

  April third, I thought, walking over and leaning against the counter. “So, you want to know the truth?”

  He put the log cabin down and nodded. “Lay it on me.”

  “Okay, this is going to sound nuts,” I said, “but hear me out. After I won the lottery, it was like this weird sort of survival instinct kicked in. Like, I realized that if I were to die, all of my money would go to my parents and my sister. Which seems like a good thing on the surface, right? I’m sure they’d be happy about it, aside from the whole me being dead part.”

  “So, you don’t want your family to inherit your money?”

  “It sounds terrible when you say it out loud, doesn’t it? But I just…I have this fear that they wouldn’t be able to handle it. Like, with me, it’s fine. I haven’t blown it all yet. I try my best to use it for good deeds. I’ve managed to remain grounded and sane.” Riley made a face that made me laugh. “Relatively grounded and sane, okay?”