Give Em Pumpkin To Talk About (Pumpkin Patch Mysteries Book 1) (18 page)

“Thanks.” He hadn’t turned back to face her, perched in the doorway as though he was ready to run.

“But I don’t know if a jury is going to believe it.”

“It won’t come to that.”

“Please think about your future. It’s coming faster than you realize.”

He left without another word. She’d meant to ask him if he wanted to spend the night in the house since he couldn’t go in the barn, but there hadn’t been time for it.

Her phone rang. It was Mace. “I have another interested buyer for the property. He’d like to meet with you tomorrow. What time is good for you?”

Chapter Eighteen

Sarah agreed to meet with Mace’s buyer at noon. She had to go to the courthouse first and pick up a copy of the deed. Her mother had faxed her grandparents’ death certificate to her at the real estate office. That made it easier for her to get everything together for the sale.

There was one problem that she couldn’t think of a way around—she’d put up the property for Jack’s bond. She couldn’t sell it until he appeared in court. She thought she could meet with the buyer and explain the situation. If he was still interested, they could talk further, and she could set up a later date for sale.

Jack wasn’t going to run, but she couldn’t convince a judge or Ben’s bail-bondsman brother of it. She didn’t even try. If she had an agreement from the buyer, she could sign the papers before the trial, and when the bond was vacated, the buyer would be notified.

With all of that working in her head, Sarah packed up her things at the hotel and checked out. She went to a grocery store and filled a cart with her purchases, some that were not the necessities she’d promised herself she was going to buy. She spoke to her mother about the process and what had been happening. Her mother seemed distracted and agreed with everything she said.

It felt like they were both ready to forget the land when they weren’t there. It made her feel bad for her grandparents’ legacy—though they’d both known how Sandra felt about the property. Had they thought Sarah might inherit it since she loved the place so much as a child?

She was determined not to feel guilty about the life she’d worked so hard to achieve, even if it wasn’t what her grandparents might have hoped would happen. She drove back to the house, wondering what Jack would make of a new buyer popping up so quickly after Leland’s death. She looked for him to suddenly appear as she made a few trips in and out of the house with her belongings, but he seemed to be off somewhere else.

Sarah had an idea about a way to say thank you to him by making him dinner. She was good at making one impressive dish—a chicken pot pie that everyone had always raved about. She’d never tried making it in a real oven before, just a microwave. But she thought it would still be good.

She was surprised, and a little worried at first, when Jack wasn’t at the house. But she finally convinced herself not to search for him and unpacked everything so she could start making the pot pie. He was bound to turn up at some point.

The chicken and vegetables smelled good while they were cooking but she didn’t try to make her own crust as she usually did. She’d bought two crusts from the store and used them. She hoped it would be as good as she put it in the oven to bake.

Sarah took out her laptop while the pot pie was baking, and looked up what she could find about the Blue Way project. It was a huge venture that was linking many trails and other natural sites from the Virginia mountains to the coast. Misty River was a tiny speck on the map for it, but from what she read, Ron was right. It was a big deal for the community. She hoped the next buyer would still want to designate a portion of land on the river for it.

“I guess Nash called with a new buyer.” Jack looked over her shoulder.

She didn’t jump—she was finally getting used to him popping in and out when she least expected it. “I was looking at the new buyer and the Blue Way. I can’t tell from his online profile if he’s interested in being part of the project or not.”

“You could ask before you sell him the land.”

“I will, although I wouldn’t refuse to sell it to him if he doesn’t want to be part of it.”

He squinted at the text she was reading. “Davis Hudson. He’s a land developer.”

“Probably not interested in the pumpkin patch or the swing by the river.” She closed the laptop. “But I knew that was possible.”

“You don’t have to sell to him either.”

“But I have to sell to someone.” Sarah got to her feet. “I made dinner if you’d like to eat with me.”

He looked surprised. “You cook?”

“You mean a woman can’t be a lawyer and a good cook?”

“The thought never crossed my mind.” He grinned. “Sure. I’d love to have some of whatever it is that smells so good. Thanks.”

“I promise not to talk about what you should do with your life.”

“And I promise not to try to influence you to stay.”

That made her look up sharply. “I don’t know why you’d even think about it. I’ve never said anything about staying.”

“It’s not what you’ve said,” he replied quietly. “It’s the way you look when you stare out at the fields and the pumpkin patch. Some of that little girl who loved to be here is still inside you.”

She laughed as she put on new oven mitts to remove the pot pie. “I’m sure she is, but grown-up me has a job she loves in Richmond where her very nice apartment is and her friends and family live.”

Jack took two of the freshly washed china plates out of the dish drainer and put them on the table. “Richmond isn’t that far away for family, and you can make new friends.”

“I thought you weren’t going to try to influence me to stay.” She put the hot casserole dish on the pot rest. “Why the sudden hard sell?”

“I didn’t know anything about you. Not as an adult. Now I do.”

“You’ve only known me a few days. Just because I love this place doesn’t mean I won’t sell it.”

He put out forks and spoons. “Did you just hear yourself? That’s why I think you should stay.”

“Not because if I stay you can stay too?”

“Not at all.” He held her chair for her. “I’ll leave tonight if that will make you stay.”

She stared at him over the fragrant chicken pot pie in the center of the table. “You’re the strangest man I’ve ever met. I don’t understand why you care so much about this land.”

“Everyone needs something they’re passionate about. Shall I serve?”

Sarah gave them both a spoonful of pot pie on their plates. Jack poured glasses of sweet tea. They sat opposite each other as they ate.

“Well since you broke your promise not to convince me to stay, I’m going to break mine about not convincing you to think about your future.”

“The pot pie is delicious. Your grandmother’s recipe?”

“Yes. My mother never cooked anything this difficult in her life.”

She spent the next few minutes trying to convince him that he should think about what he’d do next and prepare for the future. He seemed more immune to that than she was to selling the farm.

But after his suggestive words, her mind was buzzing with all sorts of farm activities and reopening the pumpkin patch. She thought about chickens and going out to help her grandmother find the eggs. The farm was beautiful in the spring with the pink dogwoods blooming and new life returning.

“So you’ll stay?” he finally asked.

“No, I won’t stay. I don’t know anything about running a farm.”

“I’ll teach you.” He glanced across at her, his eyes sincere. “Or you can hire someone to work with you.”

“You don’t know me as well as you think,” she debated. “I’m a city girl. The only things I know about keeping this place going are from my memories as a child. That’s not much help. I wouldn’t even know what to tell someone to do.”

“Not a problem then. I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

“Why?” Sarah pushed her mostly empty plate out of the way.

“Because you care about this place as much as Bess and Tommy did. Because I promised them I’d look after it. They saved my life. I wouldn’t have made it through my childhood without them. I think that’s worth some time and effort, don’t you?”

Chapter Nineteen

She thought about it and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not staying. I appreciate all you’ve done, but this isn’t my life. I’m sorry.”

“I have something to show you.” He got up and put their plates in the sink. “Wait five minutes and then come out to the pumpkin patch. Thanks for dinner.”

“There’s nothing you can show me in the pumpkin patch that will change my mind.” She looked back but was talking to an empty kitchen. “Really. I’m not staying.”

Sarah ran her gaze over the cabinets and the familiar wall plaques. It felt like her childhood was here instead of in the home her parents had left behind in Suffolk. Jack was right that she loved this place.

But he was wrong thinking she’d stay and bring it back to life. Maybe she could hire him to manage it, as Ron had suggested someone should. It would be worth a shot asking him.

She considered telling him that she’d stay if he’d leave, as he offered to do. Once he was gone, she could sell the place. But that seemed wrong. She didn’t want to hurt him. There had to be another way.

After he left, she washed the dishes, silverware, and glasses. It had been at least five minutes. Probably more. She opened the back door and started toward the pumpkin patch.

There was a faint glow coming from it—like the last embers of a fire—or the beginning of one.

“Jack!” she yelled and started running in that direction. She got to the edge of the acres where the pumpkins were growing. He was waiting for her. “What’s going on?”

“Look. It’s something Tommy did every year when the harvest was over.”

Sarah walked out to the field. Jack had carved at least a hundred pumpkins and put candles in them. There were funny faces, scary faces, and pictures of things like bats, cows, and other things she couldn’t identify.

“You did all this?” she asked.

He nodded. “I had a few hours free today.”

“It’s beautiful. Thank you. I was here one weekend when Grampa did this. He wasn’t as good an artist as you. I think this is what you should be doing instead of hiding out from everything.”

She knew she’d hit a nerve when he turned away. She’d been right about him using the farm as a means of not facing the world. She wanted to ask if he was still getting away from his childhood or if something else had happened to him.

Sarah turned to ask him about it, but as she did, the lights in the house went dark.

“I see it,” he said. “Looks like we’ve got company.”

“Treasure hunters?” she whispered, unconsciously moving closer to him.

“Probably not. Stay here. I’ll check it out.”

“Not on your life. I don’t want you to be charged with another murder. You need a witness. And I’m not staying here alone.”

“Then stay close and be quiet.”

“You don’t have to tell me that!”

“You’re still talking.”

Jack walked slowly toward the house, staying in the shadows. Sarah was right behind him, almost too close since she bumped into him twice when he stopped.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “There’s someone on the second floor. I think that’s a flashlight going through the house.”

“Looking for something,” he guessed. “I don’t suppose you’ve got your little pistol?”

“No. Sheriff Morgan still has it. But I know where the shovel is.”

“Thanks. We’ll see if we need that.”

She followed him another few steps. “What if it’s the killer? He could take us both out. No one would know.”

“Then we better see him before he sees us.”

They moved stealthily into the house. It was too quiet and creepy knowing someone was upstairs rummaging through her things. What were they looking for? “Maybe we should call the sheriff.”

“We will—after we catch this guy.”

There were footsteps on the stairs. Sarah looked for something she could use to defend herself and picked up an iron skillet.

“Are you going to hit the bullets back at him?” Jack’s voice was slightly below a whisper and close to her ear.

“At least I have something to use against him.” She slapped the skillet against her hand and winced. “This thing is heavy.”

“I knew I should’ve locked you in the barn.”

“I’m not a kid anymore. I’d just get out.”

The footsteps on the stairs slowed and stopped. Sarah panicked as she realized the intruder had probably heard them talking. She held her breath for a moment as she lifted the skillet up to her shoulder ready to battle their attacker.

Jack reached beside him and switched on the kitchen light.

Blinking quickly, Sarah wondered why in the world he’d done such a thing, ruining their element of surprise. Her eyes focused quickly on the man who was still on the stairs.

“Mace?” she gasped, still ready to hit him with the skillet.

Even more of a surprise—Jack was on the stairs with his arm around his throat. When had he moved? He’d been right next to her.

“What are you doing here?” Jack questioned him.

There were only gurgling sounds coming from the realtor.

“Maybe you should let go of him so he can sit down and tell us about it.”

Jack grunted and released him. Mace glanced at him before he stumbled down the last few stairs and sat at the kitchen table.

“I’m so sorry,” Sarah said. “Do you want some tea?”

“What was he trying to do?” he demanded in a raspy voice. “He could’ve killed me.”

“You were trespassing.” Jack followed him to the table. “Why are you here?”

“I was just looking out for Ms. Tucker’s interests.” He cleared his throat and scooted away from Jack. “I saw the lights on in the house. I didn’t want her to have a large power bill. I knew she wasn’t staying here.”

“Now the truth,” Jack encouraged.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he denied. “I only turned the power off. I was going to lock the doors, and then you came in. I thought you were a treasure hunter.”

Sarah didn’t know if she believed him either. “Then why were you skulking around in here with a flashlight?”