Page 33 of The Pumpkin Patch Promise

“That's why I don't want to repeat it,” she said. “If we're going to turn the cottage into an open, legal sanctuary, everything has to be above board. No hidden arrangements. No secrets tucked away because someone thinks they're protecting somebody.”

Nell nodded slowly.

“If the Marchetti farm is going to move forward,” Prue added, “we need to stop letting the past dictate what we're allowed to know.”

Nell drew in a long breath.

“I agree. I’ve tried to protect this place and your mother’s secrets for so long. But I think it might be doing more harm than good. The time for silence has ended,” she said. “There is something I need to tell you.”

“What?”

Nell hesitated, then looked at the farmhouse.

“I made a promise to your mother a very long time ago. I promised her I would keep certain things to myself. But I'm beginning to think I've kept that promise long enough.”

Prue's heart gave a sudden, heavy beat.

“What are you going to tell me?”

“Tomorrow.” Nell's voice was firm. “Once the cleanup is finished, I'll gather all four of you around the kitchen table. I'll tell you everything I know about the day the baby was brought here,” Nell said. “What happened. And why she was so determined to protect the baby’s identity.”

For a moment, Prue could only look at her.

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

The answer brought a strange sense of relief. Not because she knew what the truth would be, but because she would finally have the chance to hear it. Sam's hand settled over hers on the wooden porch railing.

Prue glanced at him. He said nothing, but his consistent presence beside her was enough.

Nell gave them both a small smile.

“I’m glad you and Sam found each other. Goodnight, you two.”

“Goodnight, Nell,” Prue said.

Nell turned toward the drive, leaving Prue and Sam beneath the lanterns and string lights hanging from the porch.

Prue looked out across the pumpkin fields toward the moonlit ridges. Tomorrow, she would finally hear the story she had spent so long trying to piece together.

For now, that was enough.

PRUE

There was a stillness on the Marchetti farm on Sunday afternoon as the farmhouse kitchen was wrapped in a gentle autumn light. Outside, the final Fall Festival stalls were being neatly dismantled, the heavy wooden crates packed away, and the cider barn swept clean for the coming winter. Around Rosalind's heavy oak table, the four Marchetti sisters sat together in the calm atmosphere of the house.

Prue sat closest to the corner window, resting her hands around a warm ceramic mug. Beside her, Dahlia placed her wooden clipboard on the table without opening it, while Junie and Teddy sat quietly across the table. For the first time in weeks, no ledgers, revenue logs, or scheduling sheets covered the oak surface. The atmosphere in the room was expectant, filled with the shared understanding that the long-standing mystery surrounding their mother's secrets was about to be addressed.

At the head of the table sat Nell. She smoothed her wool cardigan over her lap and placed the journal directly in the center of the table. The leather was worn soft around the corners, held closed by a ribbon that had discolored slightly with time.

Nell unfastened the bow with unhurried fingers, letting the leather cover fold open to reveal Rosalind’s private thoughts. She looked across at the four women, her pale blue eyes soft and filled with reverence.

“It began in late January,” she said. “As you know from your mother’s journal, a young woman arrived at the farm during one of the worst blizzards the state had ever seen. Her name was Leah Bennett.”

Prue leaned forward slightly, her fingers tightening around her mug.

“How old was she?”