1
Penny
Fall—a time of hayrides, pumpkins, apple picking, cozy sweaters…and failure.
I was travelling by train to my small hometown with a torn duffel bag filled with my meager possessions and broken dreams. At least I had a temp job as an account manager at Svensson PharmaTech waiting for me. It wasn't my dream job as a journalist, but hey, I’d taken what I could get. Going home, tail between my legs, would be unbearable if I was going to be unemployed.
The worst? I didn't even have overbearing parents or a childhood bedroom to crash at. Instead, I was going to be staying at my now-deceased foster mother’s house. Her granddaughters, the twins Morticia and Lilith, lived there now. Yeah, they were identical and creepy and finished each other's sentences, but it was a free place to stay—though the twins claimed the house was haunted. But beggars can't be choosers.
A haunted house would be fitting, though, since it was fall, which was, in my opinion, the best time of the year. I loved sweaters, apple cider, and pumpkin-spice anything. Too bad I couldn't afford nice new fall outfits and accessories. I had barely been able to scrounge up some business-casual clothes for my new job.
Be positive, I ordered myself. It was my favorite time of year, and I was going to enjoy it, dammit, even if I did have a crappy temp job and a failing baking YouTube channel. I was going to make soups, pies, and cheesy pasta. Mimi's house had a large kitchen, though it was old. I was going all out for Halloween. The fall holiday season in Harrogate was fun! There was the Halloween festival and handing out candy to trick-or-treaters…
I sighed and stared out the window. It was overcast and drizzly. The weather didn't even have that wow factor of the crisp blue sky and orange, yellow, and bright-red leaves. My small hometown was improving, mainly thanks to the investment from the Svenssons, but the train still sucked. It was packed with people going back to Harrogate from various weekend trips away.
The child in the seat next to me sneezed, getting snot all over my plaid skirt. Where were his parents? I tried not to swear as I blotted the fabric. To cheer myself up from the reality that I had officially failed as a journalist, I had dressed for fall, complete with boots, a scarf, and a cute sweater with smiling pumpkins, which also looked like it had snot on it.
The kid sniffled. His nose was running. I sighed and pulled a tissue out of my purse and handed it to him. He looked at me.
"Seriously, you need me to wipe your nose for you?" The kid blinked. He was a little greasy but otherwise cute: chubby cheeks, blond hair, and big gray doe eyes. I gingerly blotted his nose.
"Where are your parents?" This kid was tiny—probably a toddler. He had his ticket pinned to his shirt.
"Who does that?" I muttered. "I thought that was something that happened in the olden days on orphan trains." I was suddenly nostalgic for rainy days in Mimi’s attic, readingAmerican Diariesbooks and eating caramel popcorn.
"You're not going to bite me if I look at your ticket, are you?" I asked the kid, curious about how far he'd come. Maybe he was a child of a broken home, sent to visit his father for the weekend.
He pulled at the ticket, and I unfastened it for him then peered at it.
Davy Svensson – unaccompanied minor. Yellow Ridge Wyoming to Harrogate
"That’s—" I took out my phone, "fifty-seven hours? You've been on the train forfifty-seven hours? Who sends their toddler on a train for fifty-seven freaking hours by themselves?" Where before I had found the kid weird and annoying, now I was feeling protective. My mother had been terrible and would leave me alone randomly, hence my stint in and subsequent aging out of foster care.
I felt terrible for the kid. And incensed. How dare his parents treat him like this?
"Who's your dad? Is that who you're going to meet?" I demanded. "A Mr. D-bag Svensson, I assume?"
The kid whimpered and looked sad.
I took a turkey sandwich with brie, apple slices, and arugula on ciabatta out of my bag. I had stopped by the Grey Dove Bakery before I left Manhattan. Yes, I splurged. Now that I’m not paying rent, I can do that, right? Don’t judge me! I’m terrible at money and math. That’s why I majored in journalism.
I fed the kid bites of sandwich as I stewed about his neglectful father. "Eat that, and you can have a cookie. It’s a special Halloween cookie!" Yeah, I really went all out. How could I not? Chloe, owner and baker extraordinaire, had carefully wrapped the sugar cookie in Halloween-themed tissue paper.
"I have three cookies," I told Davy when he had eaten his half of the sandwich. "You want a bat or a witch or a pumpkin?"
He pointed to the pumpkin. "Thank you," he said softly, cookie crumbs raining all over his shirt.
"We’re train buddies," I told him as I dusted him off. He grabbed my hand then immediately fell asleep next to me.
I had always wanted a giant family with a bunch of kids. I wanted to host elaborate Halloween parties, and my huge house would be decorated top to bottom, and the kitchen would be filled with yummy baked goods.
Life did not work out like that. Now I had three children named student loans, credit card debt, and poor decision-making skills to keep me company. I ate the other two cookies and the rest of Davy's. He'd just sneezed on me, so I guessed I already had whatever germs he was carrying.
I stewed as I thought about someone sending their kid on a train alone like that. He must have been so frightened! That sent me into a spiral thinking about my mother. Trisha had left me with my father when I was just a kindergartener to run off to Europe with her much older boyfriend. She rarely called. When she did, it was just to make promises she had no intention of keeping. When my father died, the state of New York tried to contact my mother, but she had dropped off the radar. She didn't resurface until I aged out of the system. Like a dummy, I welcomed her back into my life again and again. She would always dangle nice things in front of me. Trisha was now an editor at theVanity Rag, and she was constantly promising she would run one of my articles.
My phone rang, playing spooky Halloween sounds. Davy stirred, and I hurried to answer it before he woke up.
"Penny, darling!"
