Page 79 of Fall is Brewing

A leaf skitters across the windshield, bright red against the glass before the wipers sweep it away.

“Orchard Falls is loyal,” she says.

“Oh, I know.” Willa is the reason for half that loyalty. Or her family is. Or maybe those are the same thing. “I’m not trying to take that from you,” I say.

The cab goes quiet. At the red light, I finally look over.

Willa’s face is turned toward the window, but I can see her reflection in the glass. Thoughtful. Softer than she usually lets herself be. The morning light catches her profile, the line of her nose, the slight part of her lips like she’s holding back words that might change the shape of things.

“Did you mean what you said to Nora?” she asks. “That you’re intentionally developing products that don’t compete with Hartley & Son?”

My chest tightens, but I nod. “Of course. Why would I want to compete with a legacy brand that’s beloved? I want to exist alongside you. I don’t want to run you out of your own town.”

“I’m starting to understand that,” she says. “I really admire your innovation. I want so badly to try new things at Hartley & Sons, but there never seems to be a good time. Or it doesn’t feel like it fits our branding. Or there’s other things on the to-do list that take priority.”

The light turns green. Neither of us moves for half a second. Behind us, someone honks. Willa laughs, startled, and I hit the gas. “Right… the festival pavilion,” I say, remembering her talking about her dream of opening up an event center.

“It’s not just the pavilion. It’s the festival. The contest.” She pauses, seeming to weigh her next words carefully. “Every year, we win Best Cider. But it’s been twenty-seven years since Hartley & Sons won the People’s Choice Award.”

I remember that from last year, but I stay silent for a beat just the same, waiting to see if she’s done talking. When she doesn’t add anything more, I ask, “That’s the blind taste test, right?”

From the corner of my eyes, I see her nod. “It’s how the festival keeps it honest, making sure the locals don’t just keep voting for the local orchard. But… it’s still a kick in the teeth every year we don’t win in our own town. In some ways, I think I’d rather win that award than Best Cider at this point.” She pauses, then sends me a little smirk. “Of course, I prefer to win both.”

I grin. “Oh, of course.”

As we drive down Main Street, she looks back toward me. “For what it’s worth, I think Calder Cider is going to make it here in town.”

I almost miss the turn. “What makes you say that?”

She shrugs, but the movement is too careful to be casual. “Because you’re doing everything right. You’re becoming part of our town. And you aren’t trying to beat my family.” The words sit between us, warm and unsettling. Until she adds, quieter, “You’re just trying to build one of your own.”

For a second, I forget every route, every invoice, every pitch I planned for the day. Because she’s right. And because somehow, hearing Willa Hartley say it feels less like being understood—and more like being seen.

I pull into the next parking spot without remembering why.

Willa glances at the storefront. “This isn’t on the list.”

“No,” I admit.

“What are we doing here?”

I look through the windshield at the little bakery with fogged windows and a line already forming inside.

Then I look at her. “Buying pumpkin spice donuts.”

Her smile breaks slowly, unwilling but real. “From Dotty?”

“They’re the best in town, I hear. Plus if I have to eat another apple muffin, I might puke. I love my inventory, but good lord.”

She laughs out loud, nodding. “I know what you mean. Just don’t let Dotty hear you. She’ll never let you live it down and tomorrow she’ll have a plaque she made for herself on the wall.”

“Well, maybe she deserves that plaque,” I say.

“You’re very reckless today, Calder.”

Maybe. Or maybe I’m tired of pretending every choice is a strategy.

I cut the engine and open my door. Willa hesitates only a second before following me. And as we step together onto Main Street, shoulder to shoulder in the clean autumn air, I realize winning the Orchard Falls Autumn Festival was never going to happen from behind a tasting bar.