The view outside the window of my bookstore, All Booked Up, was stunning. A light fog was just lifting from the street, and the rows of sugar maples that lined the sidewalks were brilliant in their gold/orangeed glory. Along their bases, their shed leaves were creating mosaics of color, and it looked like children had colored autumn all along our sidewalk.
It was my favorite season, and I was here for it – especially since my friend Rocky had whipped up the perfect pumpkin latte in the café she ran inside my shop. She didn’t believe in artificial flavors for anything, so she and her mom had concocted a delicious syrup of pumpkin and vanilla that gave the drink its signature flavor and kept it from being the run-of-the-mill mixture that people bought in all the chain stores. I had to hold
