Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 74214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
“My help?” Hannah asked.
“I’m taking these darlings back to my place for the night. I heard Mama is not feeling well. I could use an extra set of hands.”
“So long as it’s not in the kitchen,” Hannah said, shrugging.
“I will drop them back off tomorrow around noon,” my mom said, giving me a smile. “Hopefully Hazel is feeling a little better by then.”
She didn’t even need to pack bags. My mom was the kind of grandma who kept clothes for all of the kids at her house, just in case.
“I really appreciate it, Ma.”
“Don’t mention it. I love having them over, you know that. The other kids are getting too cool for Grandma these days. I’m happy to have the littles while I still can.”
With that, she nudged the kids and their aunt toward the back door then shuffled everyone into her massive bus-like transit van.
And they were off.
I turned off the sauce, deciding it could wait until later, then brought the cup of tea and plate of crackers upstairs to find Hazel in bed with the lights off and drapes pulled.
“It’s quiet,” she said in a croak, like if she spoke too loudly she might get sick again. “Did the kids smother Hannah to death?”
“Damn near. No, Mom dropped by and took your sister and the kids to her house.”
“She’s a saint. Have we told her that lately?”
“Every time you speak to her.”
“It’s not enough. Let’s hire a sky writer. Commission a pop star to write a song about it that she’ll hear every time she goes to the grocery store. Nominate her for the Nobel Prize.” I kicked off my shoes, pulled off my coat and tie, and climbed into the bed with her.
She nibbled one cracker, then another, but before reaching for her tea and sipping carefully.
I gently rubbed a hand across her thigh.
“Any better?” I asked.
“I’m pretty sure the crackers are going to stay down. So that’s a win.”
“By my calculations, we are roughly four months away from all-pizza-all-the-time.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time. I don’t remember the last time the house was this quiet.”
“Sure you do,” I said, rubbing my hand up and down her arm. “The last time Ma took the kids.”
“Flowers. We need to send her about fifty dozen long-stem roses.”
“Get right on that,” I agreed. “So, judging by the sickness pattern—” I said.
“Yep. My money is on a boy. Your mom was right about this family’s genes.”
She was.
Five kids.
Only one girl.
Her Aunt Valley was going to have endless advice for her on surviving a house full of boys.
“What do you want to do with our free night? Sleep? Watch a movie?”
“Nope. We need to start planning next year’s Hollows. Grab the catalogs I left on your nightstand. We have a lot of work to do.”
Hazel - 23 years
“This is weird,” I declared as we watched our sons saunter (yep, they were in their sauntering stage of life) away toward the woods, each of them decked out in horror paint.
The next generation of DG Greens haunted woods performers had arrived.
It was an oddly full-circle moment.
We’d watched all the kids practically grow up at the garden center, working with me during the days, or coming after school to help out. And, of course, having fun during all of the seasonal events.
They were finally old enough to actually work there.
And they were stoked about it.
“It really is,” Dante agreed, sliding his arms around me.
“I’m going to have to see thirst trap videos of our sons online in reviews of this place.”
“Maybe we’ll be going on a digital detox until the Christmas season,” he decided as a group of girls, phones out already, started following our boys to the woods.
“I think you might be right,” I agreed.
“Look at this,” Dante said, giving me a squeeze.
“Look at what?” I asked.
“All we created,” he said.
I was helpless but to glance from the maze, to the craft station, the haunted house, the shop, and, yes, the woods where our kids were all gathered.
We really had created something, hadn’t we?
“I love you,” he said, turning me in his arms.
“I love you too. A million apple cider donuts.”
“Not a million slices of pizza?”
“Wow, what an ego you have. Trying to compare yourself to my one true love, pizza.”
“I guess I can settle for being second best,” he agreed, pressing his lips to mine.
“Keep kissing me like that,” I said, breaking off with a panting breath, “and we’re going to have to go lock ourselves in the gardening shed.”
“I don’t see a problem there,” Dante said, eyes full of promise. “Actually, how about you and I get out of here?”
“It’s opening night!”
“We’ve done twenty-three of these. We deserve to take one off.”
That was true.
We even suffered through an opening night when the whole family had a wicked flu.
We had a staff that damn near ran the place these days. And the kids would be happier to have their first night without feeling like their parents were watching their every move.