Not to mention, I don’t feel comfortable telling my brother I slept with the man he’s paying to stay with me. Ethan needs the money, and I don’t want Jacob to think Ethan overstepped his responsibilities. I’m just as guilty for wanting Ethan for my own selfish purposes. He’s rebuilding me in ways he can’t even see. As selfish as it sounds, I need to make my decisions despite Ethan. I need to make up my own mind of what’s best for me. Something deep inside tells me Ethan is a big part of what’s best in my life.
“I need to stop running,” I say, the idea coming to me at the exact moment of our conversation.
“You’re not running away if you’re running toward something. I’m not saying you can’t stay in Michigan, Belly. I’d love for you to be close, but you need to get out. You need to spread your wings and fly, not remain the caged bird you’ve been.”
He’s correct, but the only cage I’ve been in as of late is the one of my own makings. If I break free of my own confines, can’t I soar anywhere I please?
The buzzer sounds, announcing the delivery of our dinner, and Jacob quickly stands to avoid any further discussion.
I guess I’m flying solo on the decisions I need to make for my future, and it feels amazing.
Card 26: Homemade Candy
Chocolate, caramel, and something salty
[Ethan]
By the time Halloween arrives, I’m exhausted in a good way. Between Mum’s hospital release and then working on a menu for the Halloween party in Jacob’s amazing kitchen, I’m on an adrenaline high as I lay out the spread at the barn. In addition to these other things, I helped Tom and Jess shore up the floor in the barn and installed generators for heat and electricity. The place is transformed into a fall-fest wonderland complete with webbing and dim lights, plus hay bales for seating and makeshift tables. It’s eclectic, and as I peer around the decorated room, I see the makings of what I’d like a future event space to look like. Comfort. Elegance. Fun.
I’ve been thinking about what Mum told me—I need to learn to fuss. First, she told me to be patient. Then she recommends a fuss. The advice feels conflicting. Plus, hadn’t I done that with Ella? I made her birthday special with dinner, candles, roses, and lovemaking. I didn’t know how else to fuss over Ella. However, I did finally text her back, telling her Mum was better and wished her luck on her presentations. I hadn’t heard back from her since.
It’s probably all the better. Ella is New York as Pam has said, and I’ll never shake who I am—small town, small potatoes.
Which reminds me I’m making mini potatoes a staple on my future menu. I have meals all planned out, and I used the business plan I found online as a guide to organize my own. My vision is becoming clearer. I’ll be paid by Jacob in two weeks, and I made an appointment with a local bank for a loan. The only thing still left to decide on is a location. I can’t use the barn as it just needs too much work and it’s too large. An old storefront opened up in the town next to the pharmacy, and it’s a possibility, although it just doesn’t feel like the ideal location. I don’t want to compete with Town Tavern, but as I’ve often joked, they are the only burger joint in town. I won’t be making hamburgers. A patty on a bun makes great bar food, but I don’t want to serve that kind of meal in my future restaurant.
“This place looks great,” Jess Carter says, patting me on the back as I set another two cases of beer on the floor.
We have a serve yourself bar area, unofficially manned by Tom, who will hang out here most of the night. Kids will be included in the party, so there’s a candy station for them in another corner. My sister’s the one who loves to throw this bash, which she lovingly calls a Smash after the first year it was a hit. They’ve hosted this party for almost fifteen years, and it’s grown to epic proportion with this year’s setup.
“It’s going to be a fun night,” I reply, dismissing the melancholy of Ella being out of town and the fact she wouldn’t have attended the party anyway. “Who are you?”
With a theme of famous couples, I have no idea who Jess is supposed to be.
“I’m some dude from Grease,” Jess replies. He still looks like himself with a leather jacket, motorcycle boots, jeans, and a white T-shirt. “Emily wanted me to be Thor, but I refused to wear tights.” His eyes lower to my legs.
“They’re compression pants,” I defend, and Jess laughs. He could have pulled off the Thor look with his chin-length blond hair.
“You keep telling yourself that,” he teases. “And who are you?”
“I’m supposed to be that Jon Snow character.” I’m wearing compression running pants which hug my legs and a giant hairy thing my sister made with a belt. It looks like I’m wearing a woolen dress, but Karyn told me I’m a perfect match to the character with only slightly lighter brown hair. Ella probably could have designed me a costume, but I shake the thought.
“Good one, but you kind of look like a wolf,” Jess says, noting the hood on the costume. Jon Snow was a wolf in Game of Thrones, Karyn explained. I didn’t watch the show.
“Solo tonight?” Jess continues. The famous couples theme makes it hard on single people in the community, but Karyn teased it could allow them to mix and match.
“Maybe Barbie won’t end up with Ken, but a Star Wars figure instead. He could show her his lightsaber.”
Halloween is the top hookup holiday, she told me, which was a surprising and disturbing fact. It’s also the anniversary of when Tom and Karyn first got together. TMI.
“Yeah, I’m here…” Alone. I hate to admit it. The old me might have made a flippant comment about being here to hook up, but I’m not. I’m not interested in anyone other than Ella. “Where’s Em?”
Jess’s girlfriend is awesome, and she’s been good for him and his little girl.
“She’s taking Katie trick-or-treating before coming here. I scooted out early to see if you needed help.”
“You left early so you could start drinking,” I joke.
“That too, so pass me one.” He claps my back again and leans forward for the cooler. We hang here as the barn slowly fills with people. Families. Couples. Kids. It’s loud and wild, and country music rocks the place. Laughter adds to the volume, and I’m feeling the buzz of comfort. This is my community. These are my people. I decide I need to take a second look at that storefront on Main Street. Maybe it will work out after all.
My mind is sidetracked with possible restaurant names—Harvest Table? Home Place?—when I see a bright red hood in the corner of the barn. I don’t know what made my eye go there, but I watch the figure travel through the crowd and realize it’s an entire cloak of red.
“Hot damn, who’s Little Red Riding Hood?” Tom mumbles beside me with a grin in his voice. He’s a notorious flirt, but he’d never try anything with another woman. My sister would castrate him. I can’t get a good enough glimpse of who she is, but I can’t take my eyes off her movement. The strip of red works its way through the partygoers, and then I see something in a different shade of red. Something wild and vibrant like an autumn forest come to life. A thick braid on the right side of her head dangles out from under the hood.