He's Practically Old Enough to Be Your Father

Lanie

Mom opened the back door of her car and frowned at the pumpkins covering it. “You don’t think this is too early, do you?”

“It’s September.” The wind must have been listening, because at my words, it picked up, cutting through my sweater and making me wrap my arms around myself.

“None of the neighbors have pumpkins out yet.” She pressed her fingers against her lips in concern.

“You’re a maverick. Let’s get them out. It’s so cold.”

Not waiting for her next protest, I pushed my way forward and hauled out the closest pumpkin. Once we’d gotten all of them out and set on the front porch, we used the kitchen to escape the chill.

“One week before Halloween is a good time to carve,” Mom mused as she frothed milk using the fancy coffee machine Dad had given her on their last anniversary. The contraption was huge and bulky with two group heads for pulling shots of espresso. It could have replaced the espresso machine at the coffee shop near my apartment. Still, it only took up a minuscul