by Elle Rush
Brooke bit her tongue. If her seventeen-year-old was serious—and the arguments she’d provided so far said she was—Brooke only had two options. Shut her down and play the mom card, or treat her like the capable young woman she was trying to raise. It wasn’t fair when Jordan made her follow her own rules. “This is something we need to discuss.”
“We are discussing it. I waited till I had a second interview to bring it up because otherwise it was a waste of time. This is important to me, Mom.”
She was supposed to leave in ten minutes to meet Aaron to have their first in-person volunteer meeting, but this took priority. “You know what your father and I think about you working during the week. That’s three shifts beyond what we agreed upon.”
“I think I can handle it. They aren’t full shifts. They’re two hours in the morning and four in the evening. That’s twelve hours a week. That’s less that the football team practices.”
It was a fair point. “What about your other extracurriculars?” Brooke asked.
“I’m going to drop soccer.”
“What?” Jordan had played soccer since she was eight and used to climb the goal poles when she was bored.
“It was always secondary to volleyball anyway. Coach Butters thinks we have a chance to make it to state again this year, so I’d miss some soccer practices anyway. I’d rather focus on one thing and do it well.”
“What about drama club?”
“Mrs. Bellingham is pregnant and going out on maternity leave in another month, so the winter production is already on hold because no other teachers want to step in. When the spring one is announced, I can reconsider.”
Her little girl didn’t sound so little when she had all the answers. “What does your dad say?”
“He says that if I get the job, he’ll discuss it with you. Don’t worry. He already insisted I maintain a minimum A grade in all my classes, or I have to quit.”
Brooke was grateful she didn’t have to play the heavy on that point. “Then I guess we have to see if you get the job.”
Her five-foot-seven daughter almost knocked her off her feet as she sprang at her and pulled her into a hug. “Thanks, Mom. I won’t let you down. I’ll study extra hard to make up for my work hours. I’ll—”
“Get the job first, Cookie. I know you’ll do your best. We’ll keep a close eye on things and see how you do.” Her baby girl wasn’t a baby anymore. Didn’t that just suck sometimes?
“Why are you all dressed up?”
“I’m meeting Sherriff Gillespie to discuss Corn Maze Night.”
Jordan smirked. “Right. You two are working together.”
“Why did I hear quotation marks when you said that?” Brooke asked. Now that Jordan was stirring the marshmallow cloud into her cocoa, she was certain the current crisis was over.
“He’s handsome, and in uniform, which we both know is your type. Dad likes him.”
“How do you know what your dad thinks of him?”
“They’re snowmobile buddies. We saw him at the poker derby on St. Patrick’s Day.” A contemplative look flickered across Jordan’s face, but she wiped it away immediately. “He’ll be a good person to have on hand at the corn maze in case anybody tries something. And we both know—”
“There’s always somebody,” they finished together.
Jordan held out Brooke’s purse. “Go. Don’t be late. Most importantly, remember that the best job is selling popcorn and that you have a daughter who loves you very much.”
“Save popcorn duty for Jordan. Got it,” Brooke said with a laugh. She scooped her car keys and phone off the breakfast bar and headed out.
She’d planned to arrive at By the Cup early to give herself time to peruse the bakery case. Now she’d barely have time to grab a hot chocolate for herself, which was probably good; Jordan wouldn’t appreciate it if she spoke to Rachel Best before her interview. It would be with the best of intentions, but Brooke knew her independent daughter would resent her interference.
For the first time in over a week, she saw Caleb. The eighteen-year-old young man stood behind the counter with a determined look on his face as he entered an order into the tablet in front of him. “It looks like you got the job,” Brooke said in greeting when she stepped forward to be served.
“I did!” His pride was evident on his face. “This is my first night alone doing the closing. Rachel’s in the office, but I’m in charge.”
Brooke took a quick look around the small coffee shop. There were six customers seated at the various tables, plus her and Caleb present. People were spread out across various tables but there were a couple empty ones, and lots of empty chairs and stools. During the morning rush, the small space would be crammed with forty people waiting for their sunrise caffeine fix. With an hour till closing, she didn’t see much more business coming through the door. “I’m sure you’ll do great.”
“Thanks. What can I get you?”
She’d planned to have a hot chocolate since Jordan had put the idea into her head, but then she saw a poster for the seasonal Pumpkin Spice Latte specials, and she couldn’t have one of those without a spice muffin.
“I’ll call you when it’s ready,” Caleb said.
When Aaron walked in a minute later carrying a briefcase, she felt woefully underprepared with just her phone on the table. He tucked it under the chair she’d saved for him. “Homecoming parade permits and routes,” he said in explanation. “Trevor volunteered to take them into school tomorrow, so I prepared everything this afternoon.”
“He volunteered?”
“I swear he was twelve yesterday, bugging me to get him a skateboard. And six the day before, begging me to take his training wheels off. Now he has a driver’s license and is willingly going to the principal’s office. How did I let that happen?” Aaron demanded, bewildered.
“If it makes you feel any better, before I walked out the door, Jordan hit me with the news that she has an interview for a part-time job. She’d prepared answers for every argument I could think of.”
“Ouch, the prepared defense.”
“Right? We taught them too well, Aaron. They’re young adults now, and we can’t make them regress to the kisses and cuddles stage.”
“I know. Do you realize what having seniors means?”
“Yeah. It means my high school days weren’t five years ago like I keep thinking. They’re not even ten.” At least it wasn’t twenty. She’d had Jordan when she was quite young; she and Denny had married as soon as he received his first posting after boot camp, and Jordan arrived soon after. Still, having a seventeen-year-old meant she was knocking on forty’s door.
“Or twenty-five.” Aaron fake-coughed into his fist.
That put him at forty-three to her thirty-six. “Ooh, that must have hurt.”
“It was this summer, and I’ve had better weekends.”
“At least you look good,” Brooke said before she thought about it.
He smiled so big she couldn’t backpedal on the compliment. “Thanks.”
Caleb called her name before things went awkward. Brooke stuffed an extra dollar in the tip jar as appreciation for his good timing. By the time she got back, Aaron had a file folder on the table.
“I got some maps from Glenna Jackson, including this year’s corn maze. I was told to guard it with my life.” He slipped a sheet to her, face down.
Brooke flipped it and immediately started laughing at the “TOP SECRET” scrawled across it in orange marker. She stopped when she looked at the maze map. “How long do people have to complete this?” she asked. Suddenly the “We look for people on Mondays and Thursdays” sign they had out last year didn’t seem so funny.
“About an hour. Longer if you’re doing it in the dark.”
“How could you possibly do it in less than two hours?” There were endless loops and intersections. The tower in the middle, which was supposed to let adventurers see where they’d come from and where they were going, would take an hour to reach on its
own. Jordan had a personal best time of two hours and seven minutes, and that was a serious improvement over the first time she and her friends had done it while Brooke waited in the rest area.
“The rule of right-hand turns,” Aaron said.
Brooke raised her eyebrows in question.
“Really. It’s a thing. If you take every right-hand turn, starting at the first turn, you will always find your way out of a corn maze,” Aaron insisted. “I don’t know how it works, but it does.”
“I don’t think I trust that. I’d end up shriveled in some corner waiting for the semi-weekly lost-person collection time.”
“I’ll prove it to you. We’ll do the corn maze before Seniors’ Night and time ourselves. If I’m wrong and it takes us more than two hours, I’ll buy the snacks afterward.”
“And if you’re right, I’ll—”
“Still let me buy the snacks afterward,” Aaron insisted. His hazel eyes narrowed slightly, giving him a very determined look.
“Okay.”
“How’s tomorrow afternoon? We should have a good idea of how long we should expect to give people to complete it if we’re going to be running it for the night, even if Glenna will be there.”
Her college class hadn’t started yet, and Jordan was set for school but wasn’t swamped with extracurricular activities. That Saturday afternoon was probably going to be the quietest day on her schedule for the next month. “That sounds good. I’ll meet you there.”
“No, I can pick you up.”
Finally, he was making his move! “I’ll be waiting,” Brooke said.
Chapter 6
Summer was hanging on by a thread as Minnesota moved into the second weekend of September. The light layer of dew on Aaron’s truck had already burned off, and the sun shone brightly in the clear sky. Yellow leaves dotted the treetops; sometimes an entire branch would be turning gold while the rest stubbornly refused to change. As Aaron enjoyed the view from his front porch, the sounds of a storm grew behind him.
His son burst out of the front door with the keys to the shed in one hand and his car keys in the other. “Bye, Dad.”
“Slow your roll, Trev. Where are you going?” He gave his son a lot of freedom, but his teenager like to see exactly how far he could stretch things. It seemed Trevor’s second favorite form of exercise was dancing on his father’s last nerve, especially when he leaped before he looked into whatever activity had caught his eye.
Trevor shifted from foot to foot. “Um. Caleb and I are going to cut down some trees.”
“Just heading out into the woods with an axe on a Saturday morning?” Because that sounded like something his son would do.
“No, we’re helping Mac cut down some trees on his property.” Trevor stopped and stared at him hard. “Remember? Mac Mackenzie asked if I wanted to work with him for a few weekends to clear his property so he can start building his cabin over the winter.” The annoyance on his face turned to hurt. “Dad, we had this whole conversation already. You already said it was okay so I told Mac I could work today.”
Now Aaron remembered. Trevor had mentioned the local painter looking for some landscaping help. He’d also said something about getting paid in cash and firewood. Considering how many bonfires his son and his friends had in the backyard during the fall, the wood was a big draw. “I forgot. Yes, that’s fine.”
“Gee, thanks. Again.”
He almost said something about the attitude, but he’d started it by assuming Trevor was going to goof off when he was really planning to work. He didn’t know if his son realized that clearing a wooded lot meant spending the day getting whacked by branches and slapping at mosquitoes. Then he took note of Trevor’s hardy khakis, long-sleeved shirt, and the work boots on his feet and realized the teenager had thought of all of that. “You won’t be using a chainsaw, will you?”
“I’ve used one with you.”
“I’ve shown you how to use one, and you’ve handled it once. No chainsaw.” This time it was an order, not a question or request.
Trevor bristled. “Fine.”
Considering how cooperative Trevor had been around the house for the last couple weeks, Aaron decided to cut him a break after bringing down the hammer on the fun of mowing through branches with a rotating blade of death. “You said something about pay and firewood, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you want to switch vehicles with me and take the truck? I can use your car for my errands, and you don’t have to worry about folding seats and trying to fit logs into the back.” His son had an ugly but functional ten-year-old SUV that used to belong to his mom. It was safe and held four football players and their gear, but it wasn’t meant for hauling firewood.
Aaron’s truck, on the other hand, was purchased for outdoor living: camping, fishing, hunting. Unless he was scheduled to work, he never went more than two weekends without taking off into the wild landscape surrounding Holiday Beach.
His offer was met with Trevor’s first smile of the morning. “You’d lend me your truck?”
“You’re planning to bring home a load of firewood, right? I think it would be more efficient.”
“Yes, definitely!”
“Take care of it. Don’t park it where it can be hit by falling branches or trees.”
“I won’t. Thanks, Dad.”
Aaron tossed Trevor his keys and caught the ones Trevor threw in return. Before Aaron blinked, Trevor was in the driver’s seat and rolling down the driveway. “See you later!”
Aaron waved. He’d have to spend half an hour cleaning Trevor’s car so it was in tolerable for his date with Brooke. Knowing Trevor was going to be in the opposite direction to the Jackson Farm let him breathe a little easier. He wasn’t ready to let his son know about his date just yet. There might not even be anything to tell him if the afternoon was a bust.
Trevor’s car was in worse shape than he anticipated, with more fast food and snack wrappers than was healthy for a teenaged boy. After clearing out the trash, Aaron grabbed paper towels and spray cleaners and wiped down the entire interior. He left the windows open, giving the dashboard a chance to dry and the upholstery an opportunity to get rid of its football funk.
When he arrived at the Remington Apartments, he realized he had no idea which building Brooke lived in. He did notice that the landscaping was in better shape than it had been in previous years, and suspected Lucy Callahan had something to do with it. She seemed to work miracles on the properties under her control. The Dew Drop Inn was practically a new hotel. The apartment buildings where she was the super showed just as much improvement. The cracked planters that used to be on the steps were gone. The iron hand railings had a fresh coat of black paint, and the security window in the door that had been cracked for years was now a flawless piece of sparkling glass.
Matching curtains fluttered behind two second-floor windows in the center building. “Hey, Aaron!” A familiar blonde waved from behind a screen. “I’ll be right down.”
He got out of the car and had the passenger door open by the time Brooke hit the front step. She was in a short-sleeved, blue plaid shirt and jeans, and she had a light navy jacket in her hand. She was also carrying a backpack that was stuffed to overflowing.
“How much gear are you bringing?” he asked. “We aren’t going to be exploring the old Holiday copper mine.”
“With my sense of direction, we could end up there.”
“Brooke, we’ll be in a maze. There are literally walls to ensure we can’t escape.”
She shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
The Jackson farm was about fifteen miles south of town, halfway between Bixby and Holiday Beach. They weren’t near Star Lake, but the property did have two creeks running it that fed their orchards and fields. The car bumped over ruts that had dried in the mud and stopped in the parking area off the long driveway. On one side was the maze, where seven foot stalks of corn ran for dozens of yards in either direction from the gap under the archwa
y marked “Entrance”. At the far end of the parking area was the ticket booth and the snack stand, which offered potato chips and popcorn and drinks and hot dogs. Beside them were picnic tables and firepits for the evening maze-goers.
The maze was open, but there were only a dozen cars this early in the day. Brooke gave the sky a serious look, then tied the jacket around her waist. “I’m ready to spend the rest of my days lost and wandering until my death.” She sniffed dramatically. “Lead me to my doom, Aaron Gillespie. I’ll be fine.”
“Way to go with the confidence, Brooke.” Her dark humor was a new side he’d never seen, but it was funny. “I need to get our passes before we get to the doom.”
“Good planning. We don’t want to die horribly before handing over our cash.”
He was still laughing when he paid for two tickets. Glenna Jackson stood behind the counter. The tall Black woman was agog at his approach. “Did you actually get Brooke to agree to go into the maze?” she asked as she took his money.
“She says she comes here every year with Jordan,” Aaron said.
“Comes here, yes. Enters the maze, never. She sits in the snack area and waits for the kids to finish.”
“Not this year,” Aaron said.
“If you lose her in there, she will haunt you forever.”
“I’ll keep her close,” he promised.
He returned with their wristbands. “Do you want to get some popcorn to take with us?” he asked as he fastened hers around her outstretched hand.
“So a murder of crows can attack and chase us deeper into the cornfields? No thanks.”
His laughter exploded. “What is up with you? Why did you say you’d come if you hate corn mazes so much?”
“Because you asked. Besides, I don’t hate them. I just have a highly honed Halloween spooky meter and an honorary master’s degree in horror movies. Corn mazes are a solid eight on the meter. Eight-and-a-half if you do them after dark. Nine if there are children in them after sunset. Those high-pitched giggles and screams in the dark? The rustling corn stalks when the wind blows? Creepy.”