Page 41 of The Pumpkin Patch Promise

Nell stood. “I’ll leave you to go through all of these things on your own. This is the last of it. There are no more secrets, Prudence. Everything is out in the open now.”

Prue saw Nell out and then packed everything back in the file and put it away in the office. She was done with the past and ready to move on. She walked back to the kitchen with a notepad and pen and spent the next hour making plans and lists for the new sanctuary.

A burst of laughter came from outside.

Prue looked out the window. Dahlia and Beckett were crossing the yard from the pumpkin fields, both of them carrying muddy boots and looking as though the morning had already been considerably longer than it was supposed to be.

The back door opened.

“Please tell me there's coffee,” Dahlia called.

“I’ve just started a pot.”

“Thank goodness.”

Beckett followed her into the kitchen and dropped his gloves onto the counter.

“Morning, Prue. What are you up to?” he asked.

“I’m making a list. How bad is it out there?” Prue asked, taking in their mud-splattered clothes.

“Three pumpkins have been sacrificed to the mud,” Dahlia said. “Possibly four.”

“Tragic,” Prue said.

“We'll survive. Only a few more days and the harvest will be done,” Dahlia said.

“Well done, Prue,” Beckett added. “This has been the best harvest yet.”

Dahlia came closer. “So what exactly is this list you’re making?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“A plan. I think I know where to start with the sanctuary. But first, coffee.”

Dahlia laughed. “Now that sounds like a plan I can support.”

Prue stood and reached for the coffee pot, reflecting on how bright the future was looking. For the first time since their mother had died, Prue truly felt like everything was going to turn out okay.

PRUE

November twilight settled over the pumpkin fields of the Marchetti farm, casting long amber shadows across the farmyard. Inside the cider barn, the air smelled of fresh cedar shavings. Soft harvest lanterns hung from the heavy timber joists, illuminating the newly sanded workbench.

Prue adjusted the linen runner across the workbench, placing two earthenware mugs beside a steaming ceramic pitcher of mulled cider. She smoothed the corners of her hand-drawn floor plans, anchored at each side by small brass paperweights. Transforming the barn into a warm, welcoming space seemed the most natural way to frame their sixth and final date under their arrangement.

When Sam arrived at the open sliding barn doors, he paused at the threshold to hang up his coat on a hook. He was holding a wide wicker basket filled with a dish of beef stew with roasted vegetables and fresh, crusty sourdough. His face lit up with a bright smile as his gaze swept across the barn.

"You turned the workbench into a dining table," Sam noted softly, setting the wicker basket in the center of the linen runner.

"It seemed fitting," Prue replied, offering a welcoming smile as she poured warm cider into the stoneware mugs. "This barn held so many secrets and is sort of the place where we started. Setting our dinner here somehow feels like a full-circle moment."

Sam accepted his mug, leaning back against the timber workbench frame while taking a slow sip. "It’s perfect."

“That smells really good,” Prue said, lifting the lid of the dish inside the basket. “Stew. Did you make that yourself?”

“I did,” Sam said proudly.

They sat together on the wide wooden benches Prue had arranged along the workbench. For the first half hour, they ate in comfortable, unhurried companionship, sharing the stew and warm bread. There wasn't any pressure to perform or steer the conversation into scripted territory. Every moment between them had been built on voluntary choices, clear boundaries, and genuine mutual respect.

Prue looked across at Sam, noticing the relaxed posture of his shoulders. Over the past six weeks, their structured six-date arrangement had made Prue feel safe. By establishing clear rules from the start, she'd protected her emotional pace while getting to know a man who valued transparency as deeply as she did.