“What about that menu Diya suggested?” Poppy asked.
“I’ll put Mitch and Diya together. Whatever comes out of that is up to Mitch. Sometimes the best way to handle decisions is to get out of the middle and let those who know what they’re doing decide.”
“How large is the guest list now?” Poppy asked as they walked back to the foyer.
Ivy ticked off names on her fingers. “Your family and Flint’s are coming, along with Shelly and Mitch, plus Bennett’s sister and her family. Let’s include Gilda and Darla, of course. I hope Vanz’s mother will come, and then there’s Jen and George. Jen has a sister, Jessica, whose husband shipped out for another tour in the Navy. They have three children, and I hate for them to be alone. Jen and Jessica also make the most wonderful French pastries from old family recipes.”
“I remember. Those are delicious.” Poppy did a quick count in her head. “That’s about thirty-five people so far, Aunt Ivy. Probably more. I know you love to invite friends.” She took out a pad of paper from the front desk. “I’ll create a guest list and shopping list to make sure we have enough food. Anyone else you can think of?”
“There might be a few more,” Ivy said as Poppy started her list. “I wish Mom and Dad could be here, but they’re visiting friends in South Africa. After that, they’ll have a long voyage crossing the South Atlantic to Brazil with a stop in St. Helena.”
Poppy tapped her pencil. “My dream is to be like them someday. Sailing around the world in their seventies is amazing.”
“We all want to be like them.” Ivy imagined the adventures they were having along the way, and she was truly happy for them. They were living their best life, but she still missed them.
“Bennett and I will provide the main dishes and most of the side dishes unless people want to pitch in,” Ivy said. “People will bring desserts, so that will help.”
“I love the variety,” Poppy said. “It’s smart that you added those additional electric ovensduring the renovation for events and cooking school weeks. They will come in handy for the holidays.”
“I thought we’d use the ballroom this year and serve buffet style,” Ivy said. “We have plenty of warming units we can plug in. With all the chandeliers lit, it will be beautiful.”
Ivy had been looking forward to hosting everyone in the newly restored space. With the new electrical system, she didn’t have to worry about tripping breakers anymore. That was a luxury to her.
Even though they would have a lot of family and friends joining them for the harvest feast, the house would handle them all this year.
Poppy made her list. “So it seems the only thing we have to worry about is having enough food for everyone’s taste.”
“So it would seem,” Ivy said, smiling. “But let’s not jinx it.” As she’d come to learn, anything could happen with a crowd that size.
19
“We’re here at the pumpkin patch,” Ivy said, lowering her sunglasses to glance back at Daisy, who clapped with glee.
Bennett pulled into a parking area delineated by square bales of hay. Here, just an hour inland from the cooler coastline, the sun still slanted its warmth across harvested fields, transforming them into an autumn wonderland.
Daisy broke free the moment Mitch unbuckled her from the car seat.
“I want pumpkins.” She pointed toward the patch filled with pumpkins of every color.
“You can choose one you want, sweetie.” Shelly caught her before she could dart in front of cars. “Remember, we hold hands here.”
Ivy took in the scene spread before them. The Riverside farm had transformed its pumpkin patch into a storybook event. Scarecrows with flannel shirts and floppy hats guarded the area, their faces painted with broad grins.
“Look at that giant one.” Bennett pointed to a displaynear the entrance where a massive pumpkin rested, surrounded by smaller gourds in shades of orange, creamy white, and mottled green. Even fancy striped pumpkins.
“That huge one wouldn’t fit in our vehicle,” Ivy said. “I bet it would take a forklift to move it. I had no idea they could grow that large.”
Mitch hoisted Daisy onto his shoulders. She gripped his hair with her fingers, craning her neck to see everything at once. Shelly had chosen an orange knit set for Daisy’s first pumpkin patch photos.
They joined the stream of families moving through the entrance. A teenager offered them a wooden wagon with high sides and squeaky wheels.
“For your pumpkins,” the girl said. “We also have a hot coffee and cocoa stand with homemade churros.”
“Thanks, that sounds good,” Mitch said, taking the handle.
People were taking photos beside a vintage red 1940s farm truck filled with pumpkins. Children darted around bales of hay stacked into mazes and forts while parents trailed behind with wagons and cameras.
Daisy wiggled with excitement on Mitch’s shoulders.
