“Deal.”
Olivia appeared between us, somehow having acquired cotton candy that was roughly the size of her head. “You forgot this,” she told Mario, holding out the pipe cleaner ring with sticky fingers.
“Olivia!” I protested. “We talked about this?—”
“What? I’m being practical. These things take forever to make, and my schedule’s getting really busy with second grade and my new karate class.” She pressed the ring into Mario’s palm. “You’re going to need it, eventually.”
Mario laughed, carefully tucking the ring into his jacket pocket. “I’ll keep it safe.”
“Good.” She looked between us with satisfaction. “Now, can we please get back to the contest? Tommy Patterson is already halfway done with his pumpkin, and it looks like a diseased elephant. We need to defend the family honor.”
As we walked back to our carving station, Mario’s hand found mine. Not for show, not for the benefit of our audience, just because he wanted to hold it.
June intercepted us near the judges’ table, phone at the ready. “Can I get a quick statement for the Facebook group? Just a few words about?—”
“June,” Mario said, his voice gentle but firm. “The statement is: we’re carving pumpkins with Lily’s daughter. Everything else is private.”
She looked genuinely shocked. “But the group members are going to want details?—”
“The group members can carve their own pumpkins,” he said with a smile that took the sting out of his words. “Thank you for caring about us. Really. But we’ve got this.”
She actually backed away, though I could see her fingers twitching with the need to post something, anything, about this development.
“Did you just successfully manage June?” I asked, amazed.
“I’m a quick learner when properly motivated.”
We spent the rest of the afternoon carving pumpkins in the golden October light. Olivia’s crowned cat turned out magnificently regal, my attempt at a sunflower looked more like a small explosion, and Mario’s racecar was so detailed and perfect that several other contestants came over to examine his technique.
“Show-off,” I muttered as he added tiny carved racing stripes.
“I have to impress my girls somehow.”
“You stayed,” Olivia said simply, carefully cleaning pumpkin guts off her tools. “That’s impressive enough.”
And maybe that was it. Maybe staying was the most impressive thing any of us could do.
As the sun began to set behind the maple trees, painting the square in shades of amber and gold, the judges announced the winners. Tommy Patterson’s diseased elephant somehow managed to snag third place, which Olivia declared a travesty of justice that she would be appealing to higher authorities.
We packed up our tools and our carved pumpkins, the domestic routine feeling both foreign and familiar. Mario carried our pumpkins without being asked. Olivia chattered about her plans for next year’s design—something involving a dragon and possibly actual fire. Everything felt normal and extraordinary at the same time.
“Hey,” I said as we reached the parking area where our cars sat waiting in the gathering dusk. “This is real now. No safety net, no fake rules, no exit strategy.”
“I know.”
“It might not work out.”
“It might not,” he agreed, setting our pumpkins carefully in the back of my car. “But it might be everything we never knew we wanted.”
I thought about that as we drove home—separately, because glacial meant glacial—with Olivia singing off-key Halloween songs in the backseat and our carved pumpkins glowing softly in the trunk.
It might not work.
But it might be everything.
And for the first time in a very long time, I was brave enough to find out.
CHAPTER19
