As a car sped over the blacktop, yellowed leaves tumbled across the road like nature's confetti.  Around them, water from the recent rain pooled, splashing into a fine mist when disturbed by the sedan's rolling tires. With her forehead against the window, Sarah looked at the passing scenery without truly seeing it.

In her mind, she was still back on the West Coast--not because she had liked it there so much, but merely because it was the only place she had ever known.

Until now.

It had taken seventeen years, ten months, and two days, but she had finally left California. She had finally left her mother.

"We should almost be there," said the Uber driver, a Middle Eastern man in his sixties with a Martin Scorsese movie-worthy Boston accent as he slowed to take a right hand turn.

On the corner lot, a two-story house caught Sarah's attention. With its black clapboard siding, harshly gabled roof, and symmetrical proportions, it was straight out of a Nathaniel Hawthorne novel. For a second, she half expected Hester Prynne to peek through a window, but the only sign of life was a man hammering an orange-colored paper onto a post out front.

A foreclosure sign, maybe? From the state of the building, more like a condemned notice. Sarah didn't get a good look. By the time she had shown interest, the car had already moved past.

Up ahead, the tree-lined route led further into the autumn fog. They weren't palm trees like she was used to, though. What did they have in New England? Oaks? Maple? Her hardwood knowledge pretty much ended there. The crisp fog was new, too. Back home, it would be mixed with smoke from the ever-present fires to cover the city with a gross haze, although right now it was probably in the high nineties there with no clouds in sight.

No, not back home. That place was in the past. This small town in Massachusetts would be her home now, at least until her eighteenth birthday. Then she could finally do as she pleased with her life. In less than two months, she'd be free.

At the end of the road, another house slowly came into view. Unlike the derelict Colonial on the corner, this had no written warnings or strange vibes. Instead, the red brick cottage topped with slate shingles and a central tower practically screamed its seasonal welcome.

Uncarved pumpkins and gourds in yellows, oranges, and greens had been piled on either side of the main entry, flanked by bundles of dry corn stalks. Small hay bales holding crimson potted mums dotted the steps leading to the porch, and if visitors still had any doubts as to the reason for the season, a large wreath with a banner proclaiming "Happy Fall" hung on the front door.

"Is this the place?" asked the driver as he pulled the car to a stop at the top of the circular driveway. The road had led straight to this house. From here, there was nowhere else to go, but back.

Sarah shrugged. "I don't know. It's my first time here," she said with hesitation, unsure of how to proceed if not even the GPS could get them to where she needed to go. When the front door opened and a familiar face emerged, she breathed a sigh of relief. "No, this is it."

As the driver got her luggage, Sarah met her aunt Jane at the foot of the stairs.

"Oh, sweetie! It's so good to see you," Jane said, wrapping her niece in a warm embrace. "Wow, you've grown. When did you get taller than me?"

"Fifth grade?" Sarah guessed as she tried to recall when they'd last seen each other in person.

The reminder didn't go unnoticed, and Jane hugged her harder. "I'm so sorry. I should have been there for you earlier. It's just that I thought things would get better--"

"So did I," Sarah cut her off and pulled away. "But it's cool. You only have to put up with me for a couple of months."

"You know you can stay for as long as you like, but I was hoping you'd be here at least until you start college. Even then, Waltham is close enough so you could commute," she said, lovingly patting Sarah's shoulder.

Although the offer was sincere, Sarah wanted nothing more than to be independent. "My scholarship covers full room and board, Aunt Jane," she said, her gaze drifting up to the tower's second floor window. For a brief moment, she could have sworn there was someone peeking out through the curtain.

"You like the house? It's an 1870 Second Empire built by Thomas . . . oh, you don't care about that!" Jane said with a laugh, noticing her niece's distraction. "I'm sorry. It's the teacher in me. But you must be exhausted. Come in, come in."

Jane herded Sarah inside where it smelled like cinnamon, cloves, and what Sarah could only imagine as the aroma of thirty-five year old spinsterhood.

"I bet you're excited to check out your room. Head on upstairs--it's the second door on the left," Jane said. "I'll go set the table for dinner. My famous chili's been in the Instant Pot keeping warm just for you."

"I'm actually not very hungry," Sarah said, swiping a bottle-blonde lock of hair that had fallen from her ponytail out of her face. "I had lunch on the plane and my stomach still thinks it's . . .." She paused and looked at her watch. "Two o'clock."

Jane's cheerful expression fell. "Oh. How about dessert, then? I also have a freshly baked pumpkin pie."

It was Sarah's least favorite out of any pies--cherry, key lime, even chocolate icebox came before it--but she didn't have the heart to refuse again. "Got any whipped cream?" she asked back.

Her aunt's smile immediately returned. "You bet I do! Go on up and get settled, and I'll put on a kettle for some tea, as well," she said, already turning toward what Sarah could only assume was the direction of the kitchen.

Sarah dragged her two small suitcases--holding her only earthly possessions--up the sturdy, wooden staircase. The risers creaked with age as she ascended as if saying hello to the new resident. A glass knobbed door handle marked the entry to her room, which Sarah found surprisingly large given the exterior dimensions of the cottage.

A queen-sized bed, wardrobe, and desk lined three separate walls, the latter located under a double-paned window facing the back yard. Placing her bags in the corner (for there was no separate closet), Sarah went to the window and drew the curtain aside. Down below, a garden--mostly bare due to the season--sat under a wispy cloud of fog. Further away, an orchard of trees quickly losing their foliage stretched into the horizon, and past that, a dark forest loomed.

"Tea's ready!" Jane called up, making Sarah jump.

It hadn't seemed long enough for the water to boil, but she must have gotten lost in her daydreaming to notice the passing of time. Returning to the hallway, Sarah leaned over the banister. "Is there a bathroom where I can wash up?" she asked.

Jane's disembodied voice came from the kitchen. "It's the door at the top of the stairs on the right," she yelled.

Having scrubbed the travel grime from her hands and face, Sarah joined her aunt in the dining room downstairs. Large slices of pumpkin pie topped with bright dollops of cream sat on fancy china plates at two place settings, while matching cups with saucers held steaming tea.

"Did you find everything okay?" Jane asked as she dug into her dessert.

"Yes, thank you. I--"

The doorbell cut Sarah off before she could finish. Jane looked perplexed at the interruption, but got up to check the door.

"I think it's Officer Quinn. Don't worry--they're a friend," she said to Sarah who'd followed her into the hallway. Any reason to delay--or even forego--the pie was a welcome distraction.

"They?" Sarah asked, making sure she heard correctly. While gender-neutral pronouns were fairly commonplace in everyday usage in California, she didn't know how accepted they were in local circles.

But Jane smiled and nodded. "Uh-huh."

"Okay," Sarah muttered as her aunt finally opened the door.

On the other side, a tall, brunette police officer with an asymmetrical haircut and a beaming smile stood.

"Officer Quinn! What are you doing here?" asked Jane, feigning surprise at their appearance as if she hadn't already scoped out who was at her door past sunset on a Sunday night.

The visitor rocked excitedly on their feet for a few beats before pulling something out from behind their back. "I brought you something," they said, holding a vintage cartoon ghost out for Jane to see. The dirty and rust-speckled image looked to be painted on a thin piece of metal measuring two-by-one feet, and while cute, it had definitely seen better days.

"I saw it at an antique shop in Middlebury and thought you might like it," Quinn said, handing over the piece with diminished confidence. "With Halloween coming up soon and all--"

"Oh, no, no. It's great," Jane said, taking the gift and turning it to better catch the light from inside. "Oh, I see it better now. Very rustic . . . say, is my porch light out?" she asked, reaching for the switch on the wall. Toggling it up and down a few times without any results, she sighed. "It must have just gone out."

"If you have a spare bulb, I could change it for you," Quinn offered.

Jane smiled. "Let me poke around. Come on in until then. Oh, and this is my niece, Sarah," she added before disappearing toward the kitchen again.

"Hi, Sarah. I'm Alex Quinn. It's nice to meet you," the officer said, extending a hand.

Sarah returned the greeting. "Yeah, you too." Although she would have loved to ask a whole bunch of questions--do you drop by my aunt's house often? How good of friends are you two? Is gifting cheesy, holiday themed knick-knacks really your best pickup line?--she bit her lip.

"You're staying here this Fall, right?" Quinn asked, confirming that Jane had filled them in on the basics. When Sarah nodded, they continued. "Welcome to our little slice of New England, then. Not much exciting ever happens here, and we're quite okay with that."

Sarah was pondering how exactly to reply to that when Jane reappeared. "This should work," she handed off a new lightbulb to Quinn who quickly made the replacement. After trying the switch again, the porch became bathed in a soft glow. "Ah, that's better. Thank you, officer. You can now check off 'to serve' from your daily to-do list."

"Happy to help," Quinn replied with another gorgeous smile directed at Jane. "If you don't have any more bulbs needing replacing, I think I'll head out. I'm sure you've had a long day behind you. Welcome again, Sarah. Good night."

When Jane shut the door, Sarah grabbed her hand. "They like you," she said.

Jane giggled. "What? Alex? No!" she protested, gently dragging Sarah back to the pie. In the delay, the cream had melted from a soft whip into a gooey puddle on top.

"And you like them, too," Sarah added with a smile, happy that she already found at least one thing--even if it was vicariously living through an awkward, but adorable courtship--in a town where 'not much exciting ever happens,' which could keep her entertained for the next two months.

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