Page 55 of Worst in Show

He glances at me. “Why do you say that?”

“You look all storm-cloudy all of a sudden.”

“That’s not a word.” His chin juts out, but then he makes a visible effort to relax his features. “Our relationship is complicated,” he says, finally.

“He’s the handsomer, more successful one, right? Is that why you can’t stand him?”

Leo shakes his head. “God, you’re a pain. Fine. What do you want to know? Bennett is a year younger, definitely not as handsome, but yeah, a pretty successful lawyer.”

He should have been in my year at school, then. I rack my brain for a Bennett Salinger but come up empty-handed. “Was he at Batavia High School, too? I don’t remember him.”

“No, he was a bit rowdy in middle school, so my parents sent him to Marmion. They figured a Catholic, all-boys high school would set him straight, and I guess they were right.”

That would explain it. “So what’s the complication?”

“You don’t beat around the bush much, do you?” A sidelong glare. “Um… he and my father have opinions about me being out here. Let’s leave it at that.”

I don’t want to leave it there at all. What kind of opinions? Does this have something to do with his lifestyle change around the holidays? But maybe I’ve already pushed my luck.

“Yeah, I’m really not looking forward to having him right up in my business,” he continues.

“He’s coming here?”

“The whole family. Diane says they always come out Halloween weekend. Apparently, the kids love trick-or-treating here in town.”

“The kids?”

“Evie and Oscar, my niece and nephew. They’re four and three. Love those kids to death. It’ll be good to see them at least.”

“Aw, that’s cute. And now they can come trick-or-treat at your store. That’ll be fun.”

“At the store?” Leo looks at me.

I turn more fully his way. “All the businesses open for trick-or-treating that afternoon. It’s a thing. Lots of people come. You didn’t know?”

“Does everyone dress up? Do I have to?” He shudders. “Can’t I just put out a bowl of candy by the front door?”

“Of course everybody dresses up. It’s Halloween—the best holiday of the year. The stores go all out. Which reminds me—could we stop at the pumpkin farm on the way back on Friday? I need some pumpkins.”

“Pumpkins plural?”

“Yeah.”

“Why do you need several?”

“For decoration, obviously. You should get some too or Canine King will be the only storefront not decked out.” I pretend to study my nails. “Unless you’re aiming for standing out in a really scroogey way.”

He huffs. “That analogy makes no sense. Last I checked, Scrooge was about Christmas.”

“You get the gist. You’ll be a party pooper. A Halloween pooper.”

“I don’t know. To me, dress-up is for kids. I sell dog supplies, not an immersive haunted house experience.”

I bark a laugh at his self-importance. “Gotcha—Halloween is not ‘on-brand’ for you. Well, more foot traffic for me, then. Thank you kindly.” I tip an invisible hat to him, and maybe it’s my teasing tone or the thought of his Halloween aversion pushing customers away, but suddenly he squares his shoulders and raises his chin.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to participate. I simply hadn’t thought about it. If you want to stop for pumpkins, we’ll stop for pumpkins.”

I look at him as we take the last turn off the road and come up to the farmhouse. “Really?”

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