Though as I surveyed her, our kids playing around us and the whole town buzzing all week about the festival I was helping organize, it hit me.
I wasn’t waiting for her approval anymore.
I was good. Not perfect, but doing pretty damn good.
“I’m okay,” I said, holding her eye. “I’m not falling apart. The kids are thriving. I love my job. Life here is pretty good.”
She studied me for a long moment and sighed. “That’s inconvenient. Because I miss you guys so much. I want to kidnap you all and take you home to Maine.”
Warmth unfurled in my chest. “I miss you too. But I’m good here. I promise.”
Once Chloe had folded another load of laundry and started the dishwasher, we headed into town so we could show her and Gus around. The festival preparations were underway, the town green full of tents, stages, straw bales, and lots of electrical wiring. I had no idea how this would all transform in twenty-four hours, but I knew better than to doubt Maplewood.
Jasper gave me a big smile when we walked past where he and a few guys dressed in blue with MFD printed on their shirts were hanging lanterns. Several people greeted us as we meandered, including a handful of kids who waved to Julian.
“Did you run for mayor and not tell me?” Chloe asked.
I huffed. “We live here. And I teach at the school.”
“And people are super nice,” Maggie added.
When we reached Pie in the Sky, Gus held the door open, and the kids scrambled in, headed for the large booth in the corner.
The pizzeria smelled like yeast and garlic, the vibe warm and comforting. The twinkle lights and red checkered tablecloths made the place cozy, and the old leather booths and mismatched tables that had seen years of spilled sodas, homework assignments, and long conversations that outlasted the food told a story of just how treasured this place was. It wasn’t fancy, but it wasn’t trying to be. The food was amazing, and Tony, the owner, was one of the kindest folks in town.
Restaurants weren’t part of our normal routine due to cost and Julian’s eating challenges, but even he loved Tony and his pizza, or the crust, at least.
Tony and Marco waved from the open kitchen while Ellie procured a stack of menus and Maggie snagged a pitcher of water.
After much debate about garlic knots and garlic bread, we went with the knots, and the kids spent the next several minutes talking over one another about school, the farm, and the upcoming festival.
“Aunt Chloe, we hollowed out a giant pumpkin,” Maggie announced, pouring water for everyone.
Ellie shook her head. “No, not just giant. Like, a massive pumpkin. The size of a hot tub.”
Julian pushed up to his knees in the booth, holding his arms out as far as he could. “Even bigger than this. It was wet inside. And stringy.”
“Kind of smelled dirty, but also sweet,” Maggie said.
“I’d say it smelled like a compost heap,” Ellie added.
“Josh gave us shovels.” Maggie dropped into her seat, her chin lifted. “Real ones, not kiddie ones.”
Brows jumping, Chloe looked at me.
I shrugged, helpless and amused. “They were supervised.”
“We dug and dug, and we had a big dumpster for all the pumpkin guts.”
Julian, who was practically vibrating with excitement now, knocked over a saltshaker. “But we had to be careful. The walls have to be thick. For secular integrity.”
“Structural integrity,” Ellie corrected.
He shook his head a little wildly. “It’s important to be integrated.”
Angling forward, Chloe giggled. “Why?”
Julian frowned, looking at his aunt like that was a silly question. “For racing down the river.”
