Pumpkin Spicy

Chapter 1

Amber

The morning sun peeks through the curtains, nudging me awake somehow before my alarm goes off. I stretch, feeling the crispness of the autumn air even from under my blanket. Today’s going to be a good day, I tell myself. I hop out of bed and head to the shower, the warm water a welcome contrast to the chill.

Once I’m clean and refreshed, I tackle my makeup routine with practiced ease—just enough to enhance my features but not overshadow them. A quick glance in the mirror confirms it: natural hair twisted into an elegant updo, a touch of mascara, and a swipe of berry lip gloss. Perfect.

I pull on my favorite jeans and a cozy sweater before tiptoeing into Ollie’s room. He’s buried under his dinosaur comforter, only a mop of curly hair visible.

“Morning, buddy,” I whisper, giving his shoulder a gentle shake.

“Five more minutes,” he mumbles, rolling over.

“How about three?” I counter. “I’m making your favorite for breakfast.”

His eyes crack open just enough to show interest. “Pumpkin spice French toast?”

“You know it.”

That does the trick. He’s up and rubbing sleep from his eyes as he pads to the bathroom. While he gets ready, I head to the kitchen and start mixing up the egg batter, savoring the scent of cinnamon and nutmeg that fills the air.

fBy the time Ollie shuffles in, dressed and somewhat more awake, I’m flipping golden slices on the griddle.

He takes a deep breath and grins. “Smells like fall.”

“It is fall,” I remind him with a wink.

We sit at the table, and he digs in with enthusiasm only an eight-year-old can muster. “Mom, this is awesome.”

“Thanks, sweetie.” I smile as I pack his lunch—a turkey sandwich cut into fun shapes, apple slices, and a pumpkin-shaped cookie for good measure.

“You’re spoiling me,” he says around a mouthful of toast.

“Nah,” I reply lightly. “Just making sure you’re fueled up for school.”

He swallows and looks thoughtful. “We’re learning about environments and adaptations today.”

“Oh? Tell me more.”

“Well,” he starts eagerly between bites, “like how animals change to survive where they live. Penguins have blubber to keep warm in Antarctica!”

“Interesting,” I say as we finish breakfast. “Did you know that some animals change color with seasons?”

“Really?” His eyes widen. “Like what?”

“A lot of birds. Maybe some of them live around here? We’ll have to look it up later.” I grab our jackets from the hooks by the door. “Ready?”

We step outside into the crisp autumn morning, leaves crunching underfoot as we walk toward school.

“So what’s your favorite adaptation?” I ask.

He ponders for a moment. “Chameleons are cool because they can blend in anywhere.”

“I’d agree with that,” I chuckle. 

As we approach the school gates, Ollie spots his friends and waves excitedly. 

“Bye Mom! Thanks for breakfast!” He dashes off without another word.

I watch him go with a smile. Moments like these make every early morning worth it.

I arrive at The Roasted Oak just as the first rays of sunlight kiss the brick exterior. The smell of dew and earth fills my lungs as I unlock the door and step inside. The café is quiet, still wearing its nighttime coat of darkness. I flip on the lights, and the warm glow instantly transforms it into the cozy haven I love.

I head to the kitchen, eager to put out my new creation—pumpkin spice muffins. Spices wafts through the air as I arrange them on a platter, each one topped with a delicate swirl of cream cheese frosting. They look perfect, like autumn in a bite.

I carry them out to the display case and place them front and center, then update the chalkboard menu with a flourish: “Pumpkin Spice Muffins - New!” 

“Please be a hit,” I murmur, stepping back to admire my handiwork.

The door chimes, and in walks Mr. Thompson, one of my regulars. “Morning, Amber!” he calls out.

“Good morning! You’re just in time to try our newest treat,” I say, gesturing to the muffins.

He raises an eyebrow and approaches the counter. “Pumpkin spice, huh? You know how to get me.”

“Then you’re gonna love these.” I hand him one with a napkin.

He takes a bite and his eyes widen. “Oh wow, Amber! These are incredible!”

“Glad you think so,” I reply with a smile that could light up the whole room.

As more regulars trickle in, word spreads fast about the new muffins. Mrs. Clark comes in next, followed by Tom from the bookstore down the street.

“Amber, what’s that heavenly smell?” Mrs. Clark asks, eyeing the display case.

“Pumpkin spice muffins,” I say proudly.

She grabs two without hesitation. “One for now and one for later,” she declares.

Tom follows suit, taking one for himself and another for his assistant back at the store.

Before long, there’s a line forming at the counter. “Amber, you’ve outdone yourself!” shouts Steve from across the room as he bites into his muffin.

The compliments keep coming as I serve coffee and chat with customers. The morning rush is in full swing, but it’s moments like these that make it all worthwhile. My heart swells with pride seeing people enjoy what I’ve created.

By mid-morning, I glance at the display case and realize there are only two muffins left. 

I chuckle softly to myself as I refill coffee cups and wipe down tables. 

The Roasted Oak is alive with chatter and laughter—just how I always imagined it would be.

By mid-afternoon, the café’s usual hustle has slowed to a gentle hum. I’m wiping down the counter when Zoe bursts through the door, her colorful scarf trailing behind her like a comet’s tail.

“Amber!” she calls, her voice a burst of sunshine. “Got a minute?”

“For you? Always,” I reply, setting down my rag and motioning for her to join me at a corner table.

She drops into a chair, eyes sparkling with mischief. “You won’t believe the latest gossip from school.”

I lean in, intrigued. “Do tell.”

“Coach Carter,” she begins, drawing out the suspense.

“Uh-huh,” I prompt.

“Has been flirting with Nurse Ramirez.”

I gasp, my hand flying to my mouth. “No way! But she just got divorced.”

Zoe nods knowingly. “Exactly. He’s had his eye on her for years now.”

“Years?” I echo, raising an eyebrow.

“Yep. Patient as a saint, that one.” She takes a sip of her latte and grins. “Think she’ll go for it?”

I shake my head slowly. “Hard to say. Divorces aren’t easy. But he’s a good guy.”

“She could do worse,” Zoe agrees, chuckling.

We sit in companionable silence for a moment before Zoe pivots the conversation effortlessly. “Speaking of local events, what’s your plan for the fall festival?”

I sigh, leaning back in my chair. “Honestly? I haven’t had much time to think about it.”

Zoe’s eyes light up with excitement. “Well, you know everyone’s going to expect something amazing from The Roasted Oak.”

“No pressure,” I mutter sarcastically.

She laughs. “C’mon! You always have great ideas.”

I tap my fingers on the table thoughtfully. “Maybe a pumpkin spice bake-off? Or an apple pie contest?”

“Both sound fantastic,” she says eagerly. “But how about something interactive?”

“Like what?” I ask, intrigued.

“A pumpkin carving station? Or maybe a pie contest that involves actually eating them?” She leans forward, eyes twinkling with excitement.

I consider it for a moment. “The carving station could be fun... And messy.”

“That’s half the charm!” Zoe insists.

I laugh, nodding slowly. “Alright, alright. I'll think about it.”

“Perfect!” She claps her hands together in delight. “This is going to be so much fun!”

“You’re such an instigator,” I tease.

“And proud of it,” she retorts playfully.

We spend the next few minutes hashing out details, our laughter filling the cozy café as we brainstorm ways to make this year’s festival unforgettable.

The door chimes again and Mrs. Clark enters, waving cheerfully at us as she heads to the counter for her usual afternoon tea.

Zoe glances at her watch and sighs reluctantly. "Gotta get back to school."

"Thanks for dropping by," I say sincerely as she stands up.

"Anytime," she replies with a wink before heading out the door.

I watch her go with a smile, already feeling inspired by our chat as I start jotting down ideas for the festival on my notepad.

Another customer approaches and I spring into action once more—refreshed and ready for whatever comes next at The Roasted Oak.

The day winds down, and the café’s ambiance shifts from bustling to cozy. The sun casts long shadows through the bay windows, bathing the room in a golden hue.

“Special delivery for the best café in town!” Jasmine’s voice sings out as she enters, carrying an autumn-themed bouquet that’s as vibrant as her personality.

“Jasmine, these are beautiful!” I exclaim, taking in the arrangement of deep orange mums, crimson dahlias, and sprigs of wheat. “You outdid yourself.”

She grins and sets the bouquet on the counter. “I thought they’d be perfect for your place.”

“They are,” I say, finding a spot for them by the window where they can catch the light. “How much do I owe you?”

“Consider it a gift,” she replies with a wink. “You keep me caffeinated and sane.”

I laugh. “Fair trade.”

Jasmine leans against the counter, her expression turning thoughtful. “So, what are your plans for the weekend?”

“I’m thinking of taking Ollie to that new pumpkin patch outside town,” I say. “He’s been begging to go ever since he saw the flyer.”

“That sounds like fun,” she says, nodding approvingly. “My kids love that place. They have a corn maze this year.”

“Ollie will be thrilled,” I reply, imagining his face lighting up at the idea of getting lost in a maze.

“You should join us,” Jasmine suggests. “It’ll be a blast with all the kids together.”

“I might take you up on that,” I say with a smile.

Just as Jasmine prepares to leave, the door chimes again. In walks Liam with another man I’ve never seen before but who immediately catches my eye. He’s tall, with an athletic build and dark hair that contrasts sharply with Liam’s sandy blonde.

“Hey Amber,” Liam greets me casually before turning to Jasmine. “And Jasmine, good to see you.”

“Hey Liam,” Jasmine replies warmly before nudging me subtly.

It takes everything in me not to bite my lip. Whoever this mystery stranger with Liam is sure is fine.