Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Ohmygod,” Harper announced suddenly. “I just figured out what we can be for Halloween.”
Of course he wasn’t really paying attention about the waiter, but that was fine. What was interesting was that I had no idea how he made his leaps in logic from one topic to another, but the same could be said for me.
Two weeks later, in a white wig and lab coat that Hannah had embroidered the name “Frankenstein” on, Kola was Dr. Frederick Frankenstein from Young Frankenstein, Harper was Igor, and Jake was The Monster. All Jake could say was, “puttin’ on the Ritz,” all night, which was absolutely spot on and in character. Hannah even went as Frau Blücher, and on her phone had horses whinnying loudly whenever she, or anyone else, said her name. It was fantastic.
Harper’s hump moved all over his back. Kola must have said, “It’s Frankensteen, not Frankenstein” eight hundred times. Jake did a lot of moaning and thumping around in two of the walking boots he still had from previous injuries. Kola wrapped them in a pair of black leggings that Hannah said had seen better days. They all looked amazing, and while the parents who came to the house with their kids were cracking up, their young children didn’t get it.
The party, as usual, was a success. All the kids that went to college with the boys came by, all Hannah’s friends as well, and of course kids who hadn’t gone away when they graduated, who had known the boys or Hannah in high school. It was so nice to catch up with all of them.
“Everybody’s been sayin’ that they missed coming here the year we were gone,” Kola told Sam and me. “I think that’s awesome.”
So did I.
Sam took over handing out candy so the kids could dance and enjoy their party. We had lasagna, baked ziti that I never added meat to, and eggplant parmesan because it was Hannah’s favorite. The railing of the porch was lined in candles, and Hannah had several that she poured that smelled like pumpkin spice, apples, and the bourbon she borrowed from her father, that she added along with all the herbs, crystals, and flowers for the sabbat. Sam was surprised when he had popped over to see his mother earlier in the day and she had two of Hannah’s Samhain candles burning in her house, one in the kitchen and one in her living room.
“I thought you didn’t like Hannah’s witchy stuff,” he told her.
She glared at him. “She’s a good witch, Samuel.”
There was no winning.
Some police officers stopped by the party, just doing their rounds, and Sam offered them some lasagna to take with them. They enjoyed seeing the kids in their costumes, and when I asked one of them why the sleeve of his uniform was torn, he grimaced.
Sam chuckled. “Lemme guess, someone thought you guys were wearing costumes.”
“Halloween is a nightmare,” he groaned.
After they left, food and soft drinks in hand, I asked Sam if that had ever happened to him when he was a patrol officer.
“Are you kidding? Every year. Especially breaking up altercations at bars where people ask where the rest of the Village People are, or were impressed by how real everything looked on my uniform before they pinched my ass.”
I couldn’t help laughing since he looked so very disgusted.
“And Chaz was never any help, because he’d start dancing,” he told me, shaking his head.
The image in my head was just too good.
An hour later, Sam was still outside handing out candy, which I was happy about because we had so much, when Hannah and her friend Coretta went out to relieve him. I was in the kitchen when he walked in carrying a toddler in a lobster costume.
“You’re just supposed to give them candy,” I reminded him. “Not keep them.”
“Funny,” he grumbled, and I noticed he was carrying a lobster hat in his right hand. “This is Tim, and he’s missing his mom.”
Tim, who had clearly been crying, wiped his eyes with his hands, that were untucked from the lobster claws, and looked at me sadly.
“How old are you, buddy?”
“Three and three-quarters,” he answered.
“That’s very exact,” I assured him, smiling.
“That’s ’cause Casey keeps track.”
“Is Casey your brother?”
He nodded and then surprised me when he leaned sideways, wanting me.
I took him, and he put his head down on my shoulder and wrapped his little arms around my neck. He was just as cute as he could be, ash-blond hair, big blue eyes, and the wobbly little chin because he was trying not to cry.
The issue was that it wasn’t simply our neighborhood that we gave out candy to, but people came from all over.
“Who did you come with?” I asked the little boy.
“My mom and my brother and my friends.”
“Okay,” I said, rubbing his back, looking at my husband.