Page 80 of The Pumpkin Pie Book Nook

“Come on,” Emma insisted. “We have to do everything.”

Robyn looked at Tyler, eyes wide, like she wanted permission.

Tyler nodded. “Everything,” he agreed.

They wandered through the craft barn first, drawn in by warmth and twinkle lights strung along the rafters. Tables were arranged in cozy little displays: beeswax candles in amber jars, alpaca scarves and hats folded in neat stacks, handmade wreaths with dried oranges and cinnamon sticks, embroidered dish towels that said things like Home where the o was replaced with a pumpkin, and rows of gourmet jams and honey that glowed golden under the lights.

Tyler spotted Beth—Liam and Jackson’s mom—behind one of the tables, chatting with Cassidy as she rang up a customer. Beth’s hair was pulled back in a practical ponytail, cheeks rosy from the cold, and she greeted Tyler with a wide smile the moment she saw him.

“Well, look who it is,” Beth called. “Tyler Marlowe! Bringing us your favorite girl?”

Emma beamed with delight. “I’m the favorite!”

Beth laughed. Cassidy leaned over the table and winked at Emma. “Obviously.”

Tyler introduced Robyn properly, and Beth’s smile softened in that knowing, welcoming way that Maple Falls people had—like they could sense when someone needed a place to land.

“Oh, honey,” Beth said warmly. “You picked a perfect day.”

Robyn’s cheeks pinked, but she smiled. “It really is.”

They did the hayride next, Emma wedged between Tyler and Robyn on the bale of hay. Robyn laughed every time the wagon bumped, gripping Tyler’s sleeve once when it lurched hard enough to make her slide. When Emma pointed out a scarecrow off in the field and launched into a breathless theory about its tragic backstory, Robyn listened like it was the most important thing she’d heard all week.

They ate kettle corn warm from the bag, Emma dropping half of it and still somehow ending up with sticky fingers. Robyn passed her a napkin and took the bag when Emma nearly dumped the rest. They tried cider donuts that disappeared in four bites. They stood by the fire and made s’mores, Emma declaring herself a marshmallow expert, and then immediately setting hers on fire. Robyn laughed, then helped her toast a second one, steadying the skewer while Emma tried again.

He tried not to get caught up in the effortless way Robyn and Emma interacted, but it was hard not to when he saw how relaxed Robyn was. It struck Tyler—hard and sudden—how much she’d been carrying lately—and how different she looked when she let her hair down.

When it was time to pick pumpkins, Emma marched into the patch, dragging the wagon behind her.

“This one,” she announced, pointing at a pumpkin that looked like it could bench press her.

Tyler blinked. “Emma. That pumpkin is… massive.”

“It’s my favorite,” Emma insisted.

With Emma’s chosen, Tyler picked out one that was medium-sized and satisfyingly round for himself. Robyn chose a smaller one with a slightly crooked stem.

They loaded the pumpkins into the trunk, hands cold, cheeks flushed, hearts full.

On the drive back, Emma’s eyelids started drooping, her earlier insistence that she wasn’t tired dissolving with every mile. Her head leaned against the window, breaths evening out.

Tyler kept one eye on the road and one on Robyn, who was staring at the passing trees, savoring every moment of the day.

When they pulled up near the bookstore, Emma blinked awake the moment the car stopped.

“Can you come back over?” Emma asked immediately, leaning forward between the seats to look at Robyn. Her fingers were still sticky, and there was a chocolate smudge in the corner of her mouth.

Robyn’s expression softened. “Oh, honey. I wish I could, but I have to work at the bookshop.”

“And we have a witch’s hat to go pick out,” Tyler reminded his daughter.

Emma’s face popped right back up. “Okay!” She looked back at Robyn, not willing to let the conversation go. “Maybe we’ll see you later?”

Robyn hesitated. “Maybe,” she echoed carefully. “We’ll see.”

“Tomorrow?” Emma asked, relentless.

Tyler reached back and squeezed Emma’s knee. “Robyn has work, remember?”