He’d been surprised to see dozens of kids from the high school there too. The place could almost be considered a hangout. Kids seemed to love the corn maze, and many of them spent several hours hanging around the fire. He’d even seen some of them jumping in the leaves after he’d gone to help a family carry pumpkins from the patch. His heart had swelled to see how they’d accepted Wyatt. Of course, that might have had something to do with Harper. Smart and popular, she’d helped Wyatt fit in fast at his new school. And as Fink worked throughout the afternoon and evening, she kept Wyatt busy with jobs that allowed him to be near her and also interact with the other teenagers loitering around the farm.
A family with several small children pulled in and walked to the pumpkin patch. The mother carried an infant. The father had a toddler on his hip. Their other two small children ran around through the pumpkin patch, laughing and falling. Fink let them alone for a while, but kept an eye on them, and when the father tried to juggle the toddler in one hand and pick up a pumpkin in the other, Fink walked out and offered to help.
Ten minutes later, they had at last made their final decisions, and he balanced four pumpkins in his arms, using his chin as a levering agent to keep them from tumbling out. He started picking his way back.
Two ladies walked down the path, and he stepped aside to allow them to pass. An itch on his cheek distracted him.
“Mr. Finkenbinder?” He froze, his cheek pressed to a pumpkin. And still itchy. But he quickly forgot about that because he was pretty sure the voice was Dr. Rothschild’s.
As he turned his head to look, he straightened, trying to appear as scholarly as possible.
“Dr. Rothschild. How nice to see you.” Flat-out lie.
She wrinkled her nose. “Mrs. Rosencrantz, this is Mr. Finkenbinder, our high school principal.”
The lady Dr. Rothschild had introduced looked much more relaxed than her host. She smiled, a genuine friendly smile, and waved back at a man and four children straggling along behind her.
“Hey, honey. This is the school principal.” She said school principal like a teenaged girl might have said some hot movie actor’s name. She even giggled and kind of bounced with her knees. They couldn’t be the VIPs Dr. Rothschild had said were coming for the weekend.
“I was just helping out here so Mrs. Bright could help paint the float.” Fink wasn’t sure why he felt compelled to explain to Dr. Rothschild. Most assuredly it had to do with the superintendent position and possibly guilt over Ellie. Although he had no reason to feel guilt over Ellie. He closed his mouth.
The man caught up to his wife, and their kids crowded around. Two of the children looked old enough to be in the high school, which housed the seventh through twelfth grades since there was no middle school.
“I see,” Dr. Rothschild muttered.
“Hey, Mr. F. Need some help with those?” Harper jogged up, with Wyatt following behind. They grabbed the pumpkins from Fink while he pointed to the family to whom they belonged.
“No problem. We’ll take care of them.” Harper started walking away, but Wyatt stopped in front of the oldest boy.
“Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?” he asked.
The boy squinted, then his eyes widened in recognition. “You’re Wyatt! We skied together in the Andes. You were on my soccer team.”
“Yeah. And you’re Richard.” Wyatt couldn’t throw an arm around him, since he held two pumpkins, but he said, “Come on up to the shop with me. We’ll catch up.”
The boy strode off, his mouth moving the whole time.
His parents gave each other a concerned look.
“I think they’ll be fine. That was my nephew,” Fink said.
“He seems to be recovering well from his mother’s death,” Mrs. Rosencrantz said.
“You knew my sister?”
“She occasionally worked at our ski resort. In the town of Farellones in the Andes Mountains of Chile.”
Fink stood and talked to the Rosencrantzes for a good half hour, finding out that they loved his sister and she had been well liked in Chile and that Wyatt had been especially beloved. They also mentioned they sold their ski resort so their children could graduate from schools in America, but they wanted to all be together, and they also wanted to settle in a rural area.
“This town seems ideal,” Mrs. Rosencrantz said.
“And finding Wyatt here…we didn’t know the name of the town you lived in, but your sister talked about visiting you and how beautiful Pennsylvania is this time of year. She was absolutely right.”
Dr. Rothschild made a show of glancing at her watch. “It’s almost closing time. We’ll be seeing Mr. Finkenbinder tomorrow.” She ushered them toward the pumpkin patch with promises of catching up more at lunch the next day.
Fink went to the pole building to empty the apple-bobbing tubs and tidy up, relieved the Rosencrantzes seemed to be nice people and had really seemed enthused about their small community. The school board should be happy to hear that.
By the time he stepped into the shop/office, the campfire was out and the last customer was pulling out of the parking lot. Esther shooed him out, saying she would take care of the cash register and cleaning up and asking him to take soup from the Crock-Pot in the kitchen down to the shed for Ellie.
“When she gets her head in an art project, she doesn’t remember to come up for air, let alone food,” Esther said.
Fink thought about that as he walked from the shop to the house. Ellie definitely had an artist’s personality. They were opposites. They’d drive each other crazy.
Opposites attract.
Which, of course, explained why he had such a hard time ignoring his feelings. The crazy pull that she had on him. Why he couldn’t stop thinking about her kiss. Couldn’t stop wanting to kiss her again. He really needed to get a handle on this runaway attraction. Brushing a last clinging leaf off his pants pocket with his elbow, he pushed open the shed door, careful not to spill the bowls of beef stew.
Ellie stood on the wagon with her back to him, her hourglass figure accented by her fitted T-shirt and jeans, her hair in a braid hanging down her back. Flyaway tendrils frizzed around her head.
His heart thumped as his eyes savored. He’d missed her today. He was tempted to forget his career and tell her right now that he longed to be near her and hoped she felt the same. But he pushed that idea aside. A week. He only had to wait a week until he could declare his feelings and hope she returned them.
His gaze moved to the area where she worked. From the way Harper had talked, he’d expected a masterpiece to be on the hardboard. But it wasn’t. He didn’t think it was, anyway. Not like he was an art expert. He’d been a science major.
The hardboard was no longer brown. It was white. And not flat any longer, but ridged and bumpy. Textured.
She finally saw him, and stopped. Her eyes widened when she saw the food, and he thought he heard her stomach growl.
“I didn’t realize until just now that I’m starving.” She set the tools down and rinsed her hands off in a bucket of water. Her work area had things strewn everywhere. Paper, tools, water, bowls, brushes, and towels were all scattered haphazardly. Everything was splattered with a white, plaster-like substance. He smiled to himself. She needed him.
“Come on down. This stew smells delicious.”
She finished drying her hands on a plaster-splattered towel and hopped off the wagon. “Aren’t you going to ask why I’m not painting?”
“Aren’t you going to tell me?”
“Now that you asked…I decided last night, after I went to bed, that it would look more realistic if I added texture. But I needed a medium that would dry fast, although it doesn’t necessarily have to be super strong or durable. After all, we’re going to use it in the float, then it’s bye-bye to everything, right?” She stopped in front of him and tilted her head.
“Yes. I don’t see any point in keeping it. We make a new float every year.” He refrained from wiping the spot of white plaste
r off the tip of her nose and handed her the bowl of stew instead.
“Thanks,” she said, taking the bowl. Their fingers brushed and little patters of electric shock tumbled up his hand. “That’s what I thought. So, anyway, the stuff I’m using fits the bill. I’ve got it textured like grass, and by the time we’re done eating, we should be able to start painting.”
He pulled his gaze from her lips and looked again at the white hardboard. “I see the textures you’re talking about. Looks like ridges running vertical.”
She nodded and swallowed. “Not straight, though. If you notice, the ridges are bent, like grass waving in the wind.”
“I see it.”
“I’ve got to get this done tonight, though, because tomorrow night we open the haunted barn.”
“I forgot. I was kind of hoping to see you at the football game.” One tendril of hair curled by her cheek, and he clenched his fingers into a fist to keep from twirling it around his finger.
“Oh no. I definitely can’t make that.” She sighed, looking at her bowl. “We’ll be shorthanded this weekend for the haunted barn because of Homecoming. Two of the five kids who help out have already taken Friday and Saturday off.” Her shoulders slumped and she bit her lip.
He had to go to the football game. He had to be at the dance too. “What about the parade Saturday evening? I assumed you’d be there.”
“No. The haunted barn starts at dark.”
Why was he so disappointed Ellie wouldn’t be at the parade? Maybe because they’d spent so much time working on the float together, he just assumed they’d watch it together.
She set her empty bowl aside. “You know, I was thinking about that moon, that a frame with see-through white material stretched over it would be neat, and if we had some kind of stand, there could be a real couple silhouetted behind it, rather than cutouts.”
“I like that idea.” The experience he’d gotten this week had maybe bolstered his confidence. “I don’t think that would be hard to make.”
She grinned. “Me either.”
“How about I see if I can search for some ideas on the internet. My laptop’s in my briefcase in my car.”
“Sounds good.” Her eyes crinkled as he picked up her bowl. “Missed you today.”
His heart leaped in his chest. Then it settled when he realized she was talking about him cleaning up for her. “Every time I come back, you’re surrounded by another disaster area.”
“That’s my life.”
Friday morning, Ellie parked in front of Fink’s office just as the bell rang. Harper had already jumped out, and when the bell stopped, the door was closing behind her.
Through his office window, she saw Fink standing beside his desk surrounded by at least ten people. He’d mentioned something about families visiting today, so Ellie assumed they were the folks he was talking about. A stab of disappointment cut through her, and she smiled sadly at how pathetic she was. She’d actually put on nice clothes—a pair of beige slacks and a blue ruffled blouse that made her eyes look extra blue—and took the time to somewhat tame her hair. For what? It wasn’t like she had a chance with him or anything.
She should drive away. There was no reason to stay or get out, but her hands rested on the steering wheel. She smiled as a child in his office took a Tootsie Roll from the candy container, and Fink reached down to straighten it without taking his eyes from the man speaking to him.
She looked at her hands.
They’d finished the float last night. Everything was ready for whoever was crowned king and queen, and Harper and Wyatt had agreed to ride on the float on the platform behind the moon and be the silhouettes. Fink hadn’t said anything about coming over tonight after the game, and she’d be busy anyway. She wouldn’t see him until tomorrow at the parade.
Well, she wasn’t getting anything done here. She put her pickup in gear and eased out, unable to resist one last look in Fink’s window. He had turned his head, and their eyes met as she pulled away from the curb. Heat curled in her belly, and her chest tightened.
His lips turned up and he nodded once. She lifted a hand. Then she was past his window. Feeling like she was leaving a part of herself behind, she deliberately pushed on the accelerator.
Chapter Twelve
Ellie sat in her little shop finishing up her fourth wreath of the day, when her phone buzzed with a text. She jumped, knocking a spool of ribbon onto the floor.
“Drat,” she muttered as she scrambled after it, not wanting it to get dirty as it rolled out over the floor. Her phone continued to buzz while she caught the ribbon and rolled it back up.
Both texts were from Harper. I am Homecoming queen!
The second one was in all caps. THE KING IS WYATT!
Ellie squealed and did a little happy dance. Harper had never said anything about wanting to be queen, and Ellie suspected she didn’t really care. But Wyatt had struggled to fit in at the beginning of the year, and the fact he’d been voted king said to her that he’d managed to make the adjustment quite well.
She texted back, Congratulations! then realized Harper and Wyatt were supposed to stand behind the moon, but they’d be sitting as king and queen on the float.
Mom and Dad would probably be willing to be the silhouettes on the float. All she had to do was find someone else to help with the haunted house.
Her stomach growled. Lunchtime. But she wanted to finish this last wreath before she knocked off. Usually there were enough customers after lunch to prohibit any meaningful work getting done.
She had just tightened the elaborate orange bow when her phone buzzed again.
A text from Fink. Harper probably told you Wyatt and she are Homecoming king and queen. You and I can stand behind the moon.
Ellie smiled. She read the text again, just because it was from Fink. Then, deciding she’d make something work out with the personnel at the farm, she answered.
That’s fine.
Almost immediately Fink texted back. I have a surprise for the float. I’ll bring it over after the game. You can put me to work.
What surprise could he have? You bet I will. You can rescue lost kids from the corn maze. There are always a lot of them on weekend nights. She hesitated before adding: What surprise???
You’ll see.
She chuckled, sure that it wouldn’t matter how much she begged. If Fink didn’t want to tell her, he wouldn’t be persuaded. Soon another text came through.
Come to the game at halftime to see Harper crowned. I’ll meet you at the gate.
This was a once-in-a-lifetime event for Harper. The farm would just have to make do without her for an hour while she went to see her daughter. She typed back: OK. Give me the surprise then?
Nope.
She shook her head at her phone. Crazy man. Anticipation lit her insides and not wholly because of Harper being queen. She couldn’t wait to see Fink.
Chapter Thirteen
Ellie squinted from the glare of the bright lights and scanned the crowd at the gate, searching for Fink’s distinctive dark hair. The smell of hotdogs mixed with the tangy scent of fall leaves. Kids of various ages ran around. Younger ones played on the monkey bars, laughing, yelling, and chasing each other, here to play with their friends and not to watch the football game.
Just like she’d done ever since Ellie had been in school, Mrs. Herschel took tickets at a brightly lit table under a canopy tent. A hundred yards away, down the hill and across the field, the crowd cheered. The loudspeaker crackled with a man’s excited voice. The field lights cut through the darkness, giving the impression of daylight. She checked out the people coming and going between the field and the gate. There weren’t many, and Fink was not among them.
“Hello, Mrs. Herschel,” Ellie said as she stepped up to the table.
“Ellie, dear. Mr. Finkenbinder said you might be coming.” Mrs. Herschel slid her glasses down her nose and searched the area around the field as Ellie had just done. “I don’t see him right now, and I do know he had
a group of people to entertain.” Her kind hazel eyes landed back on Ellie. “How are you, dear?” The wind ruffled her curly silver hair. She hunched down deeper into her baby-blue sweatshirt.
Ellie smiled. “I’m fine.”
“When Mr. Finkenbinder mentioned you, I was a little surprised. I never thought you two got along that well.” She looked over her glasses at Ellie.
“We’ve been working together on the float this week, and we’ve declared a truce of sorts.” What she felt for Fink went deeper than a truce, but getting into it with Mrs. Herschel would be uncomfortable. Just standing here in the noise and the dark and the wind and the smells took her back eighteen years. She had a vague sense of being a lost kid, pregnant, alone, and scared.
She shrugged the feeling off. She was an adult now, and had successfully raised that unexpected blessing. Today she had nothing to be uncomfortable about. “I’ll just mosey down. Tell him I was here if he shows up.”
“If you wait, honey, I’ll go with you. We don’t charge people after the second quarter.”
Ellie glanced at the tent and the table. “Are you taking the stuff down?”
“Yes. And I have to run the cash box over and lock it in my trunk.”
“You do that, and I’ll have this down by the time you get back.”
After taking the table and the tent down, she set them by the fence. Then she unplugged the light and wound up the extension cord.
Look at that neat pile. Wouldn’t Fink be proud of her?
Squinting down the hill, she still didn’t see him.
“Oh, that’s perfect, dear. Thanks so much. That canopy is a bear for me to get down by myself.” Mrs. Herschel shuffled back.
“It was kind of heavy. I can’t believe you do it by yourself.”
“Actually, honey, I don’t. Usually Mr. Finkenbinder and Jordon are here to help. Sometimes he has a whole crowd of boys around him. I seldom lift a finger.” She chuckled as they started down the hill.
Fink hadn’t really struck her as the type of school administrator who was popular with the students. But, come to think of it, Harper had always liked him. And, come to think of it again, kids often tapped his office window and waved at him. She’d assumed they did it to irritate him, leaving handprints and all. But maybe they did it because they liked him.
Harvest Moon Homecoming Page 9
