Althea tried her best to soothe me. “You’ve had a hard weekend, shug,” she said gently. “It’ll be good for you to spend some time with your family. I bet Trey would get a kick out of givin’ treats to the little kiddos tonight—it’ll make him feel like a tried-and-true grown-up.” She sighed nostalgically and I instantly regretted taking out my negativity on her. “I recall the time he dressed up as a wizard. He couldn’t have been more than six or seven and he used that pack of sparklers for his magic wands. Remember what a ruckus that caused?”
I laughed. “How could I not? He nearly set fire to the neighbor’s rose trellis and then he went after their cat! He swore to me that he only wanted to change it into a dog!” For a moment, I was lost in the past, transported to another Halloween night in which my young son dumped his bag of treats onto the floor and begged me to pick my favorite candy from his spoils.
“Those are yours, Trey,” I’d protested with a smile. “You walked a mile to get all of those treats.”
He’d given me a hug, pressing his shining head of chestnut hair against my belly. “But I want to share with you, Mom. You share things with the person you love the most, right?”
Tears pricked my eyes, and though I was reluctant to let go of the memories, I turned my attention back to my mother. “Thanks for bringing me back to that moment,” I told her warmly. “And nothing would make me happier than to see you and Trey seated at my table tonight. I’ll give him a call.”
“No need,” my mother assured me. “I already let him know we were expected and that you were servin’ chicken in some kind of sauce. See you soon!”
Marveling over my mother’s insight, considering I had planned on making chicken piccata with a side of snow peas and a small mound of wild rice for Sean, I watched the departing festivalgoers stream through the lobby. The last two classes had let out and everyone was exiting. Several camera crews were waiting on the sidewalk to capture sound bites on the murder of Melissa Plume. Even though the ambitious reporters were hoping for new information to squeeze into the six o’clock reports, I doubted the attendees had anything to offer other than gossip. Tall tales and ridiculous theories had been circulating around the old building since the doors opened this morning.
As Vicky and I packed up the last of the agency’s literature, I realized that today’s police presence had definitely made me feel safer. I hadn’t seen any sign of Kirk Mason, but I was still plenty nervous about the possibility that he hadn’t left town. Thank goodness Trey and Althea were coming over. Halloween had never been a spooky holiday for me before, but the knowledge that a murderer was loose transformed the approaching night. These last hours of October loomed ahead like a thundercloud. I was likely to be jumping at the slightest sound and peering out the windows at my dark yard in search of a shadow moving in the blackness.
With the festival officially over, I was thankful to have a meal to prepare. Shopping and cooking a nice supper for my mother and son would occupy my mind until I returned to work Monday morning and could start researching Melissa’s coeditor as well as the unstable author who’d threatened my look-alike.
I spent an unusually long time selecting ingredients at How Green Was My Valley and purchased all kinds of rich and comforting food that wasn’t on my grocery list. In addition to snow peas and a box of long-grain wild rice, I selected a wedge of creamy Brie, a block of Havarti, two apricots, a bunch of red seedless grapes, a French baguette, a bag of chocolate-covered raisins, and a bottle of pinot grigio. I knew the lemon, vanilla, and almond flavors of the wine would be the perfect accompaniment to chicken piccata. At the register, the cashier handed me a lollipop decorated with a white icing ghost.
“It’s mango flavored,” she told me. “All organic and completely delicious.”
She didn’t need to twist my arm. I loaded my groceries into the basket behind my scooter’s seat, pulled the wrapper from the candy treat, and popped it into my mouth. I paused there for a moment, my weight resting on my leather seat, the scooter’s engine still quiet, and felt the bliss of fruit-flavored sugar coating my tongue.
The scene around me was breathtaking. Perched on my scooter I gazed upward and watched the sun sink behind the perimeter of trees surrounding Inspiration Valley. It sent its last gasps of light shooting into the foliage, igniting a fire of scarlet, russet, and marigold hues across the base of the hills. There was a distinct line of shadow where the light could no longer reach, and above this demarcation the forests had been plunged into darkness. I was literally witnessing night laying claim to the land.
The air became much cooler and I shivered, suddenly longing for the small fireplace in my living room and my warm and cozy kitchen. I bit my lollipop into small pieces and turned on the scooter, pointing it toward home. As I drove, I couldn’t help glancing in my side mirror, fascinated and slightly chilled by the surrender of the day.
By the time I pulled into my driveway, there wasn’t a sliver of light left in the sky, but Althea’s turquoise truck was parked along the curb at the end of my flagstone walk. My mother and Trey had made themselves comfortable in the pair of rockers on my front porch.