Page 154 of Flirty Fall Fling

She grabs my hand and leads me down the long hallway onto the back porch. Pumpkins are everywhere.

“Wow,” I whisper, seeing hundreds of them on the ground, lighting the backyard. “How did you pull this off?”

“Magic,” she says with a laugh. “And a little help from my friends.”

Her finger hooks with mine, and she brings me around to the front. The streets are now loaded with children. The giant black cat with its back raised guards the fence. The cauldron has a door that kids have to walk through to go onto the porch for candy. Off to the side, someone from the Historical Society gives out warm apple cider. She’s wearing a ghost costume with her glasses worn on the outside. Kids run across the lawn in packs. A skeleton walks past on stilts, wearing a boombox on its back, playing spooky music. Beyond the fence, parents wait with wagons and backpacks for their kids to trick or treat.

“I love this,” I tell her.

Doris Jean passes out extra candy in a pinstriped suit with a fedora tipped over one eye.

I lean over and speak close to Blaire’s ear. “Is she Michael Jackson?”

She bursts into laughter. “She’s Don Vito Corleone from The Godfather. Apparently, she loves that you think she’s the leader of the grandma mafia.”

“You didn’t tell her,” I mutter.

“It was an accident,” she explains. “After, she said she was going to slash some tires.”

Two of her ladies flank her in matching pinstriped suits with fake tommy guns strapped to their backs.

“Shit, they’re evil grannies.”

“Flora’s best friends,” Blaire says. “I’m grateful for them. They’ve shut down every horrible local rumor about me.”

A woman dressed as a butterfly pulls her away toward the porch to chat about the house. I want to be selfish and steal her away, but I don’t. Instead, I get in line for cider and watch the party around me. She put this thing together so quickly.

Josie walks over, wearing a black velvet dress, striped leggings, red lipstick, and a pointed hat. “Who am I?”

“Who am I?” I ask in a deep voice.

“Oh, come on, Jamie. You think people don’t know it’s you?” she asks.

I shake my head, looking at her from head to toe. “Does Blaire know you’re her?”

“Who do you think did my makeup?” She waggles her brows. “Doors open for me. Cats do my bidding. Hot guys fall in love with me.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I say.

“I’m manifesting!” She whacks my arm and moves through the crowd.

Winter stands on a porch step, wearing a long black coat and a beaked leather mask. She pushes it up onto her hair to take a drink of some green concoction. I hope Blaire isn’t serving witches’ brew.

I move closer to her. “A plague doctor. That’s an interesting choice.”

“It’s the only historically accurate costume at this party. I’m also the only actual doctor here, so if anybody drops, the beak and I are on call.” She scans the crowd and shakes her head. “If one more person comes through that gate, the fire department might shut it down.”

“Really?”

“I was already called,” she explains, moving back inside to count heads.

I pass a two-person horse costume, and they’re bickering about who has to be the back half. I think it might be Ivy and Martha.

Inside, the band plays “I Put a Spell on You,” and people sing along. Fog rolls out of the sitting room at ankle height. I drift through the house until I end up at the front. Blaire is at the bay window, reading palms. There’s a line formed around the room, of people waiting to get a reading from her. I lean against the doorway, watching her work. One by one, the town puts its palms in her hands.

Doris Jean appears beside me with the fedora in her hand. She watches Blaire, wearing a soft smile on her face. If I had to guess, it’s pride. “My best friend sat right there every Halloween for forty-five years and read palms for anyone who wanted it,” she says. “I’m thrilled to see the tradition is staying alive.”

Someone wearing a full-face mask steps up to the table and gets their palm read or even a card pull—guest’s choice.