Page 29 of The Pumpkin Patch Promise

“Five o'clock.”

He nodded and turned back toward the staging area.

By the afternoon, the orchard yard was filled with live fiddle music, laughing children, and the bustle of a thriving autumn celebration. Working side by side with her family and neighboring vendors, Prue was thrilled with how well the Fall Festival was going. It truly was a wonderful time of year.

Late afternoon sunlight cast a warm yellow glow across the farm lawn, weaving long diagonal shadows between the timber posts of the farm stand pavilion. String lights strung overhead between the cider barn eaves flickered to life before the autumn dusk set in, their soft amber bulbs glowing against the canopy of sugar maples and red oaks that framed the orchard perimeter.

Prue handed her master schedule clipboard to Dahlia near the cider barn doors.

“That’s everything for the afternoon,” she said. “If anything goes wrong, you know where to find me.”

“I’ll get Beckett to help me with any problems. Don’t worry about anything. You just focus on enjoying your evening with Sam,” she called after Prue.

Prue smiled and headed toward the central fire pit, where Sam was waiting beside the wide wooden benches arranged in a circle for festival guests. The first hints of dusk had begun to settle over the yard, and the brick chimney sent a thin ribbon of woodsmoke into the cooling air.

“So,” Sam said when she reached him. “Date number four.”

“Yes. I thought we could partake in some of the fun and games at the festival. We’ll take turns choosing,” Prue told him.

“You get to choose first.”

“While I appreciate the gentlemanly offer,” Prue said with a smile, “you get the first choice.”

He looked toward the stalls. “Then I know exactly where we're going.”

They walked to the wooden bakery cart beside the cider barn, where a flowing stream of guests was collecting bags of fresh cider doughnuts.

“Your choice of activity is food?” Prue laughed. “I should have guessed.”

“One bag, please.” Sam handed over money to the volunteer who was manning the cart.

The volunteer handed Sam a parchment bag filled with hot cider doughnuts rolled in cinnamon sugar. They found a spot beside the rustic cedar fence and shared them while watching the festival crowd move between the cider stalls.

Prue bit into one and closed her eyes briefly.

“Think one bag was enough?”

Sam looked at the rapidly disappearing doughnuts. “I'm reconsidering my decision.”

She laughed, brushing sugar from her fingertips. “You should have bought two.”

“I'll remember that for the next date.”

Prue looked at him over the top of the bag. “You're planning ahead?”

“Only for doughnuts.”

When it was her turn to choose, Prue glanced across the festival grounds.

“Come on,” she said, standing up.

“Where are we going?”

“You'll see.”

She led him toward the fire department fundraising booth near the orchard boundary, where painted wooden rings were being tossed at antique cider bottles arranged on a heavy oak crate.

Sam studied the bottles.