Page 56 of Ghosts, Ghouls, and Growls
I descend the gazebo steps with my menagerie in tow, and as I do, I make a silent promise to both Great-Aunt Edna and myself. I will find my sister tomorrow. Whatever she needs, whatever secrets still lurk at the Westoff Farm, we’ll face them head-on like a Baker woman should—with determination, questionable judgment, and probably a really good cup of coffee.
After all, that’s what family does, especially a family with a history of witchcraft accusations, mind-reading abilities, and the occasional ghostly visitor.
CHAPTER 25
Halloween night rages on as the Fright Night Halloween Spooktacular’s jack-o’-lantern display transforms the Country Cottage Inn’s back lawn into an orange galaxy, each carved pumpkin glowing like a constellation all its own.
The scent of pumpkin innards mingling with caramel apples, funnel cake, and popcorn makes my stomach rumble. “Monster Mash” blares from speakers hidden in nearby bushes, occasionally interrupted by recorded cackling that makes teenagers scream in tandem.
I spot Hammie Mae near the center of the pumpkin galaxy in her beekeeper costume complete with netted hat and white jumpsuit. Baby Matilda buzzes along in her arms, the infant’s bee costume featuring the plumpest black and yellow striped body with tiny wiggly antennae that bob with each movement. My heart squeezes at the adorable sight, even as anxiety churns my stomach.
“It’s now or never,” I mutter to myself, striding forward with my Bride of Frankenstein wig swaying like a terrifying black and white palm tree over my head.
Fish, Sherlock, and Fudge trot alongside me like a peculiar pet parade with their own Halloween finery. Fish’s witch’s hat has officially surrendered to gravity, now hanging from her neck as if she were looking to fill it with candy.
This hat is an affront to my feline dignity,Fish mewls with a lashof her tail.When you’re asleep tonight, I’m leaving a hairball in those ridiculous platform shoes of yours.
“Lucky for me, I gave up sleep a month ago.”
Halloween is the best!Sherlock’s bubbles with enthusiasm and his Dracula cape flaps in the wind.Everyone smells like excitement and sugar! And fear! But the good kind of fear, not the bad kind. Is there candy for dogs? There should be candy for dogs.
Fudge’s ghost costume has now transformed into what appears to be a toga, the sheet having shifted completely to one side as he trots eagerly ahead.
I wish Heath could see all this,he barks wistfully.He loved the pumpkin display. He said it reminded him of the stars at night.
And it does. And believe me, if I could see a single star in the sky, I’d be making a wish right about now. I wish Hammie Mae would fess up to being my sister. That is, if she knows she is.
“Hammie Mae,” I call out, my voice sharper than I intended.
She turns while bouncing baby Matilda and her face lights up at the sight of me. “Bizzy! Your Bride of Frankenstein costume is amazing. Where’s your little vampire cutie pie?”
“With Jasper’s mother,” I say, trying my best to catch my breath. “There’s something we need to talk about.”
Just as the words leave my mouth, I hear the distinctive sound of my mother’s mumbling as she approaches, followed by the click-clack of Georgie’s impossibly high witch heels. Mom’s green face paint glows eerily in the pumpkin light, while Georgie’s naughty witch ensemble continues its valiant battle against the laws of physics and public decency.
“Bizzy!” Mom calls, waving a green hand dramatically. “You’ll never believe what Georgie just did!”
“Not now, Mom?—”
“A man tried to sell me a grave!” Georgie interjects, her witch’s hat tilting precariously as she gestures at the thought. “Agrave!On Halloween night! He said it was a pre-need purchase with a holiday discount. The nerve! As if I’m at that stage of life where buying cemetery real estate is an impulse buy!”Okay, so I sort of am, but don’t you tell anyone, Bizzy! That’s on a need-to-know basis, just between you, me, and the undertaker.
“To be fair,” Mom adds, adjusting her costume, “he was rather handsome for a cemetery salesman with distinguished silver highlights at the temples.”
“Distinguished?” Georgie scoffs. “The man had more hair growing out of his ears than on his head! My standards may be low, Red, but they’re not six feet under.”
“Yet.” Mom points out like the witch she is tonight, and I can’t help but give a little laugh.
It’s true, the local Spider Cove Cemetery asked to host a booth at the festival and I agreed to one night—Halloween. It felt appropriately morbid for the occasion.
“Actually, I’m glad you’re both here for this,” I tell them.
The sound of hurried footsteps announces my father’s arrival. He’s dressed as Count Dracula, his silver hair slicked back with enough gel to survive a hurricane and a cape billowing dramatically behind him in the wind. The effect would be menacing if not for the plastic fangs that give him a slight lisp and make him sound like he’s talking through a retainer.
“Just wanted to let you know,” he says, removing the teeth temporarily. “Gwyn took the little bloodsucker back to your cottage. All is well in Ellie land.” He pops the fangs back in where they belong.
“I’m glad you’re here, too, Dad,” I say as my stomach does cartwheels that would impress an entire herd of gymnasts.
He raises a penciled-in brow my way. “Should I be worried? You have that same look you had when you were sixteen and backed my car into a fire hydrant.”
