The Café between Pumpkin and Pie

by Marina Adair

  The sheep had flipped back their hoods. Static electricity stood their hair on end. They’d eaten their treats with gusto. White milk mustaches framed their upper lips and chocolate cake flaked their chins. He passed them napkins from the metal tabletop dispenser.

  Harry pointed to Hannah. “She needs a napkin too.”

  Yes, she did, Jake noted. As with the triplets, cake flecked her cheek and the corner of her mouth. He couldn’t help but smile. He instinctively made a man’s move on a messy woman and gently brushed away the crumbs. Her cheek was smooth and soft to his touch. Her pink lips gently parted with the press of his callused thumb. She exhaled and the moist warmth was as startling as if she’d sucked on the tip.

  A turn-on for him.

  Embarrassment for her. Her eyes were wide.

  She blushed and looked away.

  He was struck by her reserve. He lowered his hand and leaned back against the booth. Bo Peep was naïve, he realized. Inexperienced. He’d unintentionally made her self-conscious. He should’ve passed her a napkin as he’d done for the boys. And not touched her. He hoped he hadn’t drawn attention to them.

  A side-eye at those seated nearby proved people were deep in discussion and minding their own business, not his. He was relieved. Not necessarily for his sake, but for Hannah’s. His harmless gesture could be construed as affection. Gossip was contagious and spread rapidly in a small town. She lived in Moonbright. He was passing through. He didn’t want to leave her as a topic of conversation. Not linked to him, anyway.

  Harry bumped him from the side, gaining Jake’s attention. “You going to eat your whoopie pie?” he asked.

  “I’d planned to eat part of it.”

  “What part?”

  “At least half.”

  The boy smacked his lips. “The other half?”

  “I could divide it into thirds.”

  Harry scrunched his nose. He understood half, but thirds confused him.

  “Three pieces,” Hannah helped out.

  “Milk too?” asked Harry. His fingers inched toward Jake’s glass. His was empty.

  “Let Jake have his own glass,” Hannah was quick to say. She slid out of the booth, unzipped and slipped off his leather jacket, then hung it on a coat hook. “I’ll get refills for you guys.”

  Her skirt once again swung wide and the hoop bumped into the backs of chairs and the edges of tables as she headed toward the beverage station. There she filled three small glasses with milk and placed them on a serving tray. Her gaze was downcast and she didn’t look all that steady on her return. Her hip caught the corner of a tabletop and milk sloshed in the glasses but didn’t fully spill over. She arrived and set down the tray. Her breath rushed out in relief. The boys snatched the glasses and had chugged half the milk by the time she resettled in the booth.

  Jake eased his plated whoopie pie across the table along with a table knife. “You do the honors, Peep,” he requested.

  Her nephews leaned forward, their elbows on the table, eyeing her slicing, wanting their fair shares. Hannah had a good eye. She evenly halved the pie and gave Jake his piece. She held the blade over the boys’ half, debating the remaining thirds, when Harry pressed her for the largest piece. “Little more to the left.”

  “No, to the right,” insisted the boy Jake believed to be Howie.

  Hannah did her best. She sliced the treat into clear-cut thirds. Although Howie insisted that Harry got more than he did.

  “Eat slowly and it will last longer,” Hannah told them.

  Their chewing was measured and unhurried. A game in which no one wanted to finish first. Silliness prevailed. They drew out their enjoyment of the snack.

  Howie, his teeth chocolate, looked at Hannah. “Tell us a Halloween joke,” he pleaded. “Make us laugh.”

  She hesitated. “My jokes aren’t that funny.”

  The boys ganged up on her, chanting, “Joke, joke, joke.”

  Jake had finished his whoopie pie and glass of milk. He wiped his mouth with a napkin, said, “Humor us.”

  They hadn’t given her a choice. She gave in, saying, “This one’s for you, Howie. What does a child monster call his parents?”

  He came back with, “Monster Mom and Dad?”

  “Good guess,” Hannah praised him. “The answer is Mummy and Deady.”

  The boys all grinned, hooted. “My turn,” said Harry.

  “Where does a ghost go on Saturday night?” she asked him.

  Harry rocked on the booth, deep in thought. He finally shook his head. “Don’t know?”

  “Anywhere he can boo-gie.”

  Smiles all around. Hal sat on the edge of his seat. He pounded his palm on the tabletop, said, “Me next.”

  “Why is a ghost such a messy eater?”

  Hal didn’t bother to guess. “Tell me.”

  “The ghost is much like you guys,” said Hannah. “’Cause the ghost is always goblin.”

  The boys’ amusement drew attention to their booth. Customers turned their heads, smiled, even without knowing what had caused their laughter.

  Jake eyed Hannah while the boys finished their milk. They were having a slurping contest. Loud with bubbles at the corners of their mouths. He snuck in, “Do you have a joke for me too?”

  She reacted with, “What is a skeleton’s favorite song?”

  He had no idea.

  “‘Bad to the Bone,’ ” she dared.

  He grinned. “Good one.” He knuckled his jaw and asked, “Is that how you see me?”

  His question took her aback. She folded her hands in her lap, answered, “It was only a Halloween joke. No assumptions, Jake. I don’t know you well enough.”

  “We’ll have to rectify that.”

  “Rectify what?”

  “Us.” He tested her willingness to spend time with him. Her reaction disappointed him. She bit down on her bottom lip. Her expression was skeptical. Her lack of interest wasn’t impolite, merely telling. She wasn’t into him. A minor blow to his ego.

  What had he expected? A hint of interest, perhaps. However small. Just not a silent shutdown. Jake immediately debated the wisdom of his suggestion. There were dos and don’ts of dating in a small town. Especially when the guy was an outsider. Hannah had caught his eye over the years, but he’d never pursued her. They’d barely exchanged a dozen words. He had, however, dated her sister, Lauren, which might put Hannah off dating him now.

  Resolve prevailed. He wasn’t ready to give up on her, not yet anyway. He felt comfortable around her. Hannah was attractive and her innocence appealed to him. Fate had placed him on the sidewalk at the start of the parade. That’s where he’d first spotted Little Bo Peep. He’d been amused by her costume as well as her inability to keep track of her sheep. Her nephews were wide-eyed and wandering. Moving in three different directions. He’d offered assistance and she’d reluctantly accepted. He’d never walked in a parade but found it fun.

  Their paths would continue to cross while he was in town. The café was where everyone met to enjoy a good meal. His grandfather and pal Moody wiled away hours seated at the counter. They rehashed the good old days and discussed the weather. It was only logical that Jake would join the two on occasion.

  Be that as it may, his conscience waved a red flag. A reminder that Hannah’s grandmother and mother were very protective of her. So were the regular customers. She was undeniably special. A friendship with her would be fine. Intimacy, off-limits. Difficult for him. He liked sex. A lot. Nothing felt better than the hard vibration of a bike between his thighs unless it was the smooth, naked slide into a soft, wet woman.

  There were those ladies who could handle an affair and those who sought stability. Permanence made his palms itch. His feet were programed for an about-face. His boots were made for walking.

  Realistically, he couldn’t just make love to Hannah, then roll out of bed, dress, and depart. She was too damn sweet. There was too much at stake. His grandfather would disown him if he hurt her. Logic ruled. He decided to m
ove slowly and see how things shook out.

  Hannah’s grandmother soon walked through the swinging doors that separated the kitchen from the dining room. Jake recognized Nan Allan immediately. The Allan women all held a strong family resemblance. Fine features and slim figures. The older woman had pinned her gray hair in a bun at the nape of her neck. An orange apron designed with a scarecrow covered her kitchen whites. She stopped briefly at the counter and spoke to the major and Moody before approaching their corner booth.

  “Gran-gran Nan!” the boys greeted their great-grandmother.

  “My handsome sheep,” Nan returned. She came armed with plastic pumpkin-shaped buckets. She set one before each boy. Then affectionately ruffled their static hair.

  Harry pointed to her face. “There’s flour on your nose.”

  Nan swiped it away with the back of her hand. “All gone?” she asked. Harry nodded, and she explained, “I’m elbows deep in dough. Baking bread.”

  “Elbows deep.” The boys found that funny.

  “Are you having a good time?” Nan asked them.

  “We marched in the parade,” said Harry. “Jake too.”

  Nan nodded to Jake. “I heard about your visit from the major. It’s good to see you. Stay a spell.”

  Jake wasn’t certain how long “a spell” might be, but he planned to stay awhile. He leaned back in the booth, legs extended, relaxing in the moment. Enjoying the family exchange.

  “We ate whoopie pies,” Howie told her. “Jake shared his.”

  Nan approved. “How generous of him.” She then singled Jake out. “Stop by the kitchen anytime and I’ll have a whole whoopie pie set aside with your name on it.”

  He appreciated her offer. “I’ll do just that.”

  “Hannah told us jokes,” Hal informed his great-gran.

  Nan grinned, revealed, “Hannah told me one at breakfast. What does a mother ghost say to her kids in the car?”

  The boys all shook their heads.

  “‘Fasten your sheet belts.’ ”

  Nan laughed along with the triplets.

  Jake chuckled too.

  Seconds later the boys drummed on the pumpkin buckets with their spoons. They’d grown impatient. There was no holding them back. They climbed across Hannah and hopped from the booth. “Trick-or-treat. We want candy,” they collectively demanded.

  Nan leaned toward them and gently laid down the law. “All candy that’s collected goes in the pumpkin buckets. Hannah will make the rounds with you. You’ll walk north on Pumpkin Lane to the bed-and-breakfast, then back to the courthouse. All businesses are handing out treats. No munching along the way. Not one bite,” she emphasized. “Your dad will pick you up at the café on your return. He can decide how much candy you can eat before bed. Got it?”

  Hal screwed up his face and was the first to whine. “Not even one piece? I’ll get hungry walking.”

  Nan was determined to prevent a sugar high. “Not one tiny bite.”

  “What if it’s a Tootsie Roll pop?” asked Howie. His favorite candy.

  “Not even if it’s a red one.”

  The boy blew raspberries.

  Jake slid from the booth. “If you guys can’t eat candy, then neither will I,” he said, hoping to make them feel better. It seemed to work. Their frowns faded.

  The triplets looked at Hannah. She also gave her word. “Nothing for me tonight either. However, should a store owner hand out Butterfingers, I expect you to share one or two with me that I can enjoy tomorrow.”

  Nan turned to Jake. “Would you mind herding the sheep to the door? I need to speak privately with Hannah. Two of my waitresses costumed as gypsies are handing out Dragon’s Teeth candy corn on the sidewalk outside the café. One pack per sheep.”

  Jake snagged his leather jacket off the hook. He flipped it over his shoulder. “On our way out. Let’s go, dudes.”

  The sheep pumped their arms and bounded across the dining room, dodging customers, full of energy and excitement, their bells jingling.

  Jake had exceptional hearing. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but Nan’s whisper carried to him. “Have you recited the Halloween chant?” she asked Hannah.

  “Chant” caught his attention. Curiosity slowed his steps. Hannah’s answer was barely audible, “No, Gram, not yet.”

  “Embrace the Halloween magic, my dear,” Nan pressed. “Don’t let the night pass you by. The women of Moonbright have faith in the legend. Over the years they’ve spoken the words with heart and soul and believed in the outcome. Their wishes came true. Yours can too.”

  Moonbright legend? Jake was baffled. He wondered if the folklore was known only to the women or if the men were aware of it as well? He would tap his grandfather for information. Surely he’d have a clue.

  Further contemplation went out the door with the triplets. They were temporarily Jake’s responsibility and he didn’t want them on the sidewalk alone. He had to limit each boy to one pack of the strawberry-and-chocolate-flavored Dragon’s Teeth.

  Outside, the wind had died. Hannah no longer had to worry about it blowing up her skirt. Although he wouldn’t mind a second peek at her sexy Bo Peep stockings. The late-afternoon sun split the clouds, bright enough for him to slip on his mirrored aviators.

  That’s when he caught Harry fumbling with a pack of candy corn pressed against his stomach. The wrap crinkled, split open, and quick as a blink the boy shoved several pieces into his mouth. Jake had never seen anyone chew so fast. He swallowed equally as quickly. He was lucky he hadn’t choked.

  Jake cleared his throat from behind the boy. Loudly enough that Harry jumped. He had a Halloween joke of his own to tell. “What do I say to a sheep who sneaks treats?”

  Harry shrugged guiltily.

  Jake bent close, his voice deep and low. “ ‘You are baaad,’ ” he bleated like a sheep.

  Harry grinned for a single second before turning serious. He nervously dropped the partially opened package of candy corn into his bucket. “You going to tell Aunt Hannah?” he asked.

  Jake debated. It was Halloween. Candy was a hot commodity and hard to resist. He cut Harry some slack. “How many Dragon’s Teeth did you actually eat?”

  “One.”

  “I thought I saw two pop into your mouth.”

  “I ate three.”

  “No more from here on out.”

  “No more what?” Hannah had joined them. The sweep of her hoopskirt grazed the backs of his knees.

  He cut her a look over his shoulder. He wasn’t a tattle tale. “No more walking ahead of me,” was all that came to his mind. “The street is crowded and the sheep are eager. The candy is calling their names.”

  Hannah arched an eyebrow, not quite believing him. “I’m sure there are plenty of treats to go around,” she assured them.

  Harry took Jake’s hand. “I’ll walk with you,” he said.

  “Want me to hold the pumpkin bucket?” asked Jake.

  Harry shook his head. “I can manage. I don’t want to miss out on any treats.”

  “You already have a package of candy corn.” Hannah squinted into the bucket. Noticing, “Is one corner of the package open?”

  Harry fidgeted, not wanting to fib to his aunt.

  Jake spoke for him. “Nope, still closed.”

  Harry heaved a huge sigh of relief for such a small boy. The broken seal was a dead giveaway.

  Hannah saw through Jake’s white lie. “If you say so, Pinocchio.”

  “Not my costume, Peep.”

  A crush of trick-or-treaters soon surrounded them.

  Jake, Bo Peep, and her sheep moved up the street.

  Chapter 2

  Trick-or-treaters packed the sidewalk. A physically tight fit. Fortunately, there wasn’t any pushing or shoving. People progressed at a leisurely pace. Hannah walked behind Jake and the triplets. The boys were bouncy. Jake’s stride was smooth and athletic. She discreetly admired his backside. Wide shoulders and narrow hips. A butt that could’ve modeled boxers or blue jeans.
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  Several people spoke to him. The conversations were short and friendly. Most everyone wanted to know why he was in town and for how long. Jake repeated the same answer over and over again. He was visiting his grandfather with no set departure date.

  An hour went by, and the afternoon sky darkened. Dusk flipped a switch and the antique lampposts illuminated Pumpkin Lane. Brightly. Jake still wore his aviators. Each time he glanced over his shoulder, she couldn’t tell if he was looking at her or at someone behind her. Hannah wished it were at her. However unlikely.

  She rewound their conversation at the café. She’d told him a Halloween joke and he had teased her back. Suggesting that they spend time together. His proposal had bounced off her. She hadn’t believed him serious. She was plain and shy and not all that interesting. Her life was routine, varying little. She went to work, joined friends for an occasional movie, and turned in early.

  She wished with all her heart she’d handled things differently. She should’ve kept the moment light. Perhaps a witty comeback, something sassy but not too snide. Letting him know that she was aware he was kidding her and that he didn’t actually want to hang out. Sadly, all her words stuck in her throat. The silence had suffocated her. She’d come off as standoffish. Uninterested. Rude. Which was so unlike her.

  The Corner Café offered a fairly steady turnover of male customers. Many of the men were personable and hardworking. Even so, she’d never met any man like Jake Kaylor. He was handsome, hot, and in town for such a short time. She despaired. She might never meet anyone like him again. He wasn’t the type of man to ask a woman twice. Still, she wished for a second chance with him. Moonbright had its fair share of single ladies. He wouldn’t lack company.

  She rubbed her forehead. Her grandmother’s words were imprinted on her mind. A stark reminder of Moonbright Halloween lore. She must repeat the chant prior to the bewitching hour in order for it to come true. Then, if the legend was to be believed, she would glimpse her future husband in a reflective surface before midnight.