Page 59 of The Pumpkin Pie Book Nook

He knelt, opened it, and pulled out a large wooden box about the size of a jewelry chest. The wood was worn smooth at the edges from years of use.

Walt set it on the counter with a satisfied thump. “Here we go.”

Tyler watched as Alice lifted the lid. Inside were rows and rows of recipe cards. Some neatly written, some typed, and more than a few with little stains that made Tyler think of floury hands and hurried kitchens and holidays of his childhood.

Alice motioned Robyn closer. “Alright,” she said. “Let’s see what we can find.”

Fifteen minutes later, Alice clicked her tongue and said, “Well, what do you know? Here it is.” She plucked the card out of the row, and after a glance to make sure it was the right one, handed it over to Robyn.

“Does it have the next clue you need?” Emma asked, finishing her ice cream.

“Umm… I’m not sure.” Robyn read the ingredients. “Flour, fresh pumpkin puree, heavy cream, brown sugar…” It seemed like an ordinary pie recipe, except for the Blue Ribbon Winner written on the top.

Robyn turned it over and read the back again, slower this time.

Tyler studied her face, waiting for some flicker of recognition, but after a few seconds, her expression only tightened with concentration. Nothing about the card seemed to leap out as a clue.

Then she went still.

Tyler followed her gaze to a line in the directions.

Bake in a wood-fired stove until the crust is golden.

The words wood-fired stove had been circled in darker ink, as though someone had gone back later and pressed the pen harder. Beside the circle, a tiny arrow pointed toward the words, along with a little pumpkin doodle that looked oddly cheerful among the measuring cups and teaspoons.

Robyn inhaled sharply, and Tyler felt the jolt of her excitement move through him. He smiled, looking over at her as her complexion lit up with the next clue. God, she was gorgeous. No doubt about it. And the way she lit him up, lit his life up? There was no question about it. He was one hundred percent madly in love with her. But what would happen in five weeks when she left town?

TWENTY-SEVEN

ROBYN

That evening, Robyn walked Tyler and Emma to their car out front of the bookshop. The sky was streaked with orange and fiery red as the autumn sun sank toward the horizon, the eastern edge turning smoky gray. Venus, the evening star, twinkled in the distance.

“You’ll come over this weekend, won’t you?” Emma asked, climbing into the backseat. “Dad says you’re his friend and he cares about you. So that means you’re my friend too, right? And friends have playdates.” Her eyes lit up with a new thought. “Maybe we could carve our pumpkins. Didn’t you say we could do that this weekend, Dad?”

“We’ll see,” Tyler said to Emma before turning to Robyn with an apologetic expression.

Tyler stepped closer to Robyn on the sidewalk. “No pressure, but you’re more than welcome to join us.”

His hand found her waist, warm and familiar now, and he kissed her cheek. Robyn closed her eyes, inhaling the scent of him and wishing he didn’t have to let go.

But unfortunately, they had an audience, and Emma needed to get home to bed.

“Bye, Emma. See you guys later,” Robyn said with a wave before heading inside.

When she finally went back upstairs, she tried to keep her mind in Maple Falls. In the safety of streetlights and pumpkins. In the comfort of Emma’s blunt little certainty. In the way Tyler had looked at her this morning over French toast and future-tense sentences, like he wasn’t scared of what came next.

She sent a message to the book club chat about the recipe card discovery, thumbs moving quickly as she summarized the circled words and the little pumpkin doodle. Within seconds, replies flooded in.

Zoe: Wood-fired stove????

Kit: I wish the inn had a wood-fire stove…

Cassidy: The Kettle does wood-fired pizza

Mayor Bloomfield: Excellent work, detectives.

Mrs. C.: The Kettle didn’t install that oven until the 1980s. Try again.