Page 105 of Haunt the Mall

Victor furrowed his brow, his voice low. “I’m sorry.”

Was he talking to her or to me?

I wrapped my arm around his waist. “Why are you sorry?”

“I kept trying to make the widow work. She was acting strangely, I knew my sister wouldn’t want to fix her, but I still…I thought she was lucky or something.” He huffed and ran his trembling fingers through his hair. “You could’ve gotten hurt. Badly.”

“You could’ve too.” I rubbed his back, avoiding the tenderest bruises.

“Yeah.” He waved at the theater. “I could’ve lost my job, gotten sued, and ruined my sister’s career—”

“But you didn’t.” I hugged him and smiled at our widow. “Maybe she is lucky.”

In fact, she was kind of how we met. I’d always be grateful to her for drawing us together. If we had the space, I’d adopt her in Hot Contra. Put her above the dressing room and pin a sign that says, ‘She eats shoplifters’ underneath. If only they could do something like that here.

“You know what? If you can get her on a table, I think I might know how to resuscitate her through the season.” I squeezed his waist, then ran upstairs to my store. We had tons of spooky spider shit: LED candles, cobwebs, fishnets, and pins.

I jogged through the aisles and pulled two bags-worth of stuff. “AJ, ring me up.”

He pushed his glasses up and grinned. “What’s this for? Another party?”

“No, it’s marketing.” Also, a love letter: to Victor, the widow, and all lovely dark, little things that made us happy.

Hopefully, corporate would see my genius strategy and reimburse me, but for now, my employee discount would help me cover it. “Oh, and AJ, HR will be here today for evaluations, so could you hold down the fort until Willow and Bree come in?”

He saluted me. “You’ve got it, boss.”

I smiled and twirled my cross. For once, I wasn’t going to look behind me for a boss. It was me.

I grabbed my decorations and ran to the theater.

Victor eyed my bags. “What have you got there?”

“All the ingredients to build a killer display worthy of the widow.” I beamed, shaking the bags like they were rattling, black plastic pom-poms.

He raised his eyebrows. “Did you keep the receipts? Because I can’t hang her here again. She’s a liability.”

“She’s immobile, right? Too heavy to move, too high to trip over on this table.” I set the bags down and gestured to the theater. “Your guests will love it. They were taking selfies when she was on the floor, for goodness sakes. Imagine if she had her own stage.”

In the reflection of Victor’s eyes, the halogen lights on the wall created a halo behind me. “It would be an enticing opportunity.” He ran his thumb across the edge of his phone. “Give me a moment.”

Two minutes later, we had the go-ahead to send mall management a demo for our marketing campaign. We assembled the stage together.

I fluffed out fake cobwebs and grinned over my shoulder at him. “Is this cinematic enough?”

He eyed the back of my legs and sauntered closer, his fingers outstretched. “I’d show a bit more skin.”

I laughed and twisted around to protect the back of my knees from any potential tickling—and to point out my next suggestion. “Now, just imagine a little placard saying do not touch, and you can buy this stuff at Hot Contra.” I held my cross. “What do you think?”

“I think…it’s genius. She’s more magnificent than ever,” he said, but he was looking at me. “You’re a brilliant businesswoman, Miss Silver.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sterling.” I beamed.

We took pictures of the display, then snagged a few of us posing with the widow and each other. We had normal snuggle pics and ones we pretended to attack each other or run from the widow. Half of our pics were blurry with laughter. Guests would have a blast. This was a certified fresh idea to liven up business, so I had no doubt management would approve.

“I’ve got to get back to work, but good luck,” I told Victor.

He squeezed the back of my neck. “Good luck to you today, too. You’ve got this.”

---