I didn’t know what to make of it. What kind of blight spread from potted plant to potted plant?

The sight was a little unnerving, so I was thankful when it came time to turn down the dirt road that led to the apple orchard.

The uneven surface forced me to slow down, but the autumn view was enough to keep my spirits up. The leaves of the tall maples on either side of the road had changed from green to gold, and every turn of my bike’s wheels sent grasshoppers flying into the air, while late monarchs fluttered about.

After a minute or two of pedaling, I spotted the orchard. My eyes trailed over the rows of apple trees lining the gently sloped hills. There was a red barn cheerfully nestled in the midst, and beyond that, a stone farmhouse with neat white fencing.

I remembered what Roxie had said about Rip Jr. wanting Graves House, but I had a difficult time reconciling the desire to live in that falling-down manor over this beautifully upkept homestead.

As I got closer to the orchard, I had to navigate my way around the many cars coming and going from the front drive. Apple-picking season was apparently in full swing.

I leaned my bike against the wood fence by the front gate and lifted up the wicker hamper I had wedged into the front basket. That’s right. I had stolen Izzy’s idea. I was still worried that talking to Constance’s siblings might prove difficult, so I’d decided to come bearing gifts.

I followed the stream of people under the wood sign that read McGivern’s Apples. Inside, small children dressed in fall sweaters toddled among ducks waddling just out of arm’s reach while parents looked on and chatted with one another, holding cups of what smelled like apple cider. I also noticed a few people sneezing and pulling out handkerchiefs. Allergies. Yet another joy of the season.

Still, despite the circumstances and the itchy noses, I couldn’t help but feel the warmth of the festivities.

“Give that back this instant, Jeremy!”

Clearly not everyone was feeling the love.

I spotted a girl with long pigtails and a plaid jacket giving a fearsome look to an older boy waving a maple syrup lollipop in front of her.

“That’s mine,” she said, fists planted on her hips. “If you don’t give it back, you’ll be sorry.”

“What are you going to do?” the boy taunted, throwing the lollipop in the air and catching it before the much shorter girl could snatch it away.

“I’m not going to do anything,” she said confidently. “The witches will get you.”

I stumbled.

“What are you talking about?” He threw the lollipop in the air again.

“My mom says Evenfall is full of witches, and they’ll get you if you’re bad.”

“That is so stupid. There are no witches in Evenfall.”

The boy threw the lollipop up again, but this time I caught it before it made its way back down. His eyes widened as they met mine.