Page 98 of Autumn on My Mind

I spend most of Monday working. When I get home from the pumpkin patch, I settle on the shed couch and do my online job. I saw Dominic briefly this morning as he was pulling out of the driveway; we waved at each other and then went our separate ways. I haven’t seen or heard from him since, but I’m anxious to hear what he says about our parents.

I don’t know how easy Daryl is to pry information out of, especially concerning blossoming relationships. Alvina will tell you everything you want to know and everything you don’t, mostly because she likes to feel like people are interested in her life.

Sighing, I settle back against the couch cushion and snap my computer closed. The sun is only just setting, but I’m unusually tired. So I make myself a ham sandwich, eat, and then watch TV on my phone for an hour before falling asleep.

It’s on Tuesday morning that Dom gets back to me. He calls while I’m in the middle of rearranging inventory—a fancy way of saying I’m moving pumpkins around.

“Hi,” I say, putting the phone on speaker and then setting it on top of the hay bale I’m next to. “What’s up?”

“You sound out of breath,” he says instead of answering my question.

“I’m switching up our pumpkin display.” I prop a large pumpkin against the hay bale and surround it with a few smaller ones, standing back to see how it looks.

“Well, I talked to my dad,” Dom says, and I momentarily forget about my display.

“Yeah?” I say, grabbing the phone and holding it to my mouth. “What did he say? How are they doing?”

“All I could get out of him was that he’s taking her to dinner on Monday. Someplace fancy in Burlington.”

I groan at this, slumping down next to the pumpkin I just arranged. “A fancy dinner? In Burlington?”

“Yeah,” Dom says, his voice grim. “So that’s not promising.”

I glance around at the empty pumpkin patch. We’re going to change our hours starting tomorrow, because no one is here. “You know what I’m realizing?” I say, trying to make myself more comfortable.

“Hmm?”

“Breaking a couple up is difficult.”

“It is,” Dom admits.

“Especially if you’re conscientious,” I go on. “Which we mostly are.”

“I recall some spying that happened a few weeks ago,” Dominic says now, and I can hear a faint smile entering his voice. “Peeking through windows. Would you call that conscientious?”

“But I wasn’t hurting anything. I wasn’t lying to anyone or doing damage, you know?”

“Yeah,” he says on a sigh. “I know.”

“I don’t want to puncture their tires or something, and even if I did, what would that do? Basically nothing. They could still meet up for dinner somewhere other than a fancy restaurant in Burlington.” I squirm as the hay makes my back itch. “So what do we do? Tell them lies about each other? Show your dad all my mom’s diagnoses?”

“Does she have official diagnoses?” he says, sounding interested.

“I don’t know,” I say. “And I’ve never asked. But I’d be shocked if there wasn’t something.” I clear my throat. “Anyway. Thoughts? About our parents, I mean. Not my mom’s medical history.”

“Because I do have thoughts about your mom’s medical history.”

A smile tugs over my lips at this. “I’m sure you do.”

“Well,” he goes on, “I think it would be worth it to tag along. Fancy dinners don’t usually happen for no reason.” Then, more casually, he adds, “You and I can grab dinner too, if you want. Watch them from across the restaurant or something.”

“Oh,” I say, straightening up at the idea. “I like that. I like that very much.”

A puff of laughter sends static down the line. “Let’s do it, then.”

“Also, I was thinking,” I go on. “Could I borrow your house this evening?”

“Why? Throwing a party?”