about to sprint across the street to the green and forget the whole
thing, when she heard a voice. “Yoo-hoo! Stan!”
Turning, she spotted Char Mackey teetering up the street on boots with impossibly
high platform heels. She clung to a foil-wrapped casserole dish, and her ever-present
luggagesized purse hung off the arm she tried to wave with. Stan figured the emergency
bottle of vodka that usually lived in her purse made the trip more laborious than
it should have been.
“Hey, Char.” Stan waved back. There goes my escape. She waited for Char to catch up to her.
Breathing hard, Char finally did. Known and loved around town for her flamboyant outfits,
overly outgoing nature, and love for all things gossip, she didn’t disappoint today,
even while paying a visit to a friend who was in mourning. Her fisherman-yellow coat
gaped open, displaying black pants stretched thin over her bulk, and a neon red blazer
that clashed with her loud red hair. Chunky jewelry and her traditional, glittery
gold eye shadow completed the outfit.
“Phew. That’s a long walk when you’re carrying all this stuff.” Char leaned over and
air-kissed Stan. “I’d hug you, honey, but I’d dump the food all over you.”
“That’s okay.” Stan took the dish. “Let me help.”
“Well, thank you, honey. So nice of y’all to come see Emmy. She’s gonna need us all
now, that’s for sure.” Char glanced at the house, her lips pulled together, the only
outward sign of her distress. “That poor woman,” she murmured, more to herself than
to Stan. “Like she hadn’t been through enough with that man.” Shaking her head, she
sighed and turned back. “Shall we go in?”
“Sure. I can’t stay long,” Stan said.
“No, no, me either. We have a houseful. People coming down to get their Halloween
tricks and treats in early this year, before they head up to Salem for the real thing.”
Nearby Salem, Massachusetts, was New England’s premiere Halloween destination. The
entire month of October was like one big costume party. This year, it seemed people
were streaming through Connecticut and dropping some tourist dollars in their region
on the way, which was great for the local economy. And for Char’s bed and breakfast,
Alpaca Haven, the only establishment of its kind in town. It attracted customers left
and right with a reputation for cozy rooms, delicious food, and excellent service.
Being able to pet the cute alpacas on the premises didn’t hurt either.
Char led the way to Em’s door and rang the bell. Stan suddenly felt stupid. She hadn’t
even brought anything. It would occur to her to cook food for animals before people.
Char sensed her anxiety. “Don’t worry about it, honey,” she said. “I don’t think Em’s
gonna run out of food anytime soon. It’s nice that you came.”
Em’s sister, Francine, answered the door. She looked even more anxious than she had
the previous night. Stan doubted her presence was giving Em any peace at all. “Oh,
hello,” Francine said. “How sweet of you to come see Emmy. She needs her friends right
now.”
“Yes, we thought so. We’ve brought shrimp Creole.” Char’s New Orleans origins made
her especially popular in the area. She made the best food and the strongest drinks,
and having fun was a core part of her personality.
Francine brightened and stepped back. “Come in, come in. We’ve had lots of tuna casseroles,
but no shrimp Creole. How generous. Em!” She hollered. “She’s taking care of the boys
right now,” she confided in a low voice. “They’re having such a hard time.” Her face
fell again just thinking about it, and she began picking at her fingernail again.
Stan resisted the urge to grab her hands to stop her. “My poor nephews. And we finally
told Robert. He was . . . he loved his daddy. This is just going to be so hard for
those boys.”
“I know. I’m so sorry,” Char said.
thing, when she heard a voice. “Yoo-hoo! Stan!”
Turning, she spotted Char Mackey teetering up the street on boots with impossibly
high platform heels. She clung to a foil-wrapped casserole dish, and her ever-present
luggagesized purse hung off the arm she tried to wave with. Stan figured the emergency
bottle of vodka that usually lived in her purse made the trip more laborious than
it should have been.
“Hey, Char.” Stan waved back. There goes my escape. She waited for Char to catch up to her.
Breathing hard, Char finally did. Known and loved around town for her flamboyant outfits,
overly outgoing nature, and love for all things gossip, she didn’t disappoint today,
even while paying a visit to a friend who was in mourning. Her fisherman-yellow coat
gaped open, displaying black pants stretched thin over her bulk, and a neon red blazer
that clashed with her loud red hair. Chunky jewelry and her traditional, glittery
gold eye shadow completed the outfit.
“Phew. That’s a long walk when you’re carrying all this stuff.” Char leaned over and
air-kissed Stan. “I’d hug you, honey, but I’d dump the food all over you.”
“That’s okay.” Stan took the dish. “Let me help.”
“Well, thank you, honey. So nice of y’all to come see Emmy. She’s gonna need us all
now, that’s for sure.” Char glanced at the house, her lips pulled together, the only
outward sign of her distress. “That poor woman,” she murmured, more to herself than
to Stan. “Like she hadn’t been through enough with that man.” Shaking her head, she
sighed and turned back. “Shall we go in?”
“Sure. I can’t stay long,” Stan said.
“No, no, me either. We have a houseful. People coming down to get their Halloween
tricks and treats in early this year, before they head up to Salem for the real thing.”
Nearby Salem, Massachusetts, was New England’s premiere Halloween destination. The
entire month of October was like one big costume party. This year, it seemed people
were streaming through Connecticut and dropping some tourist dollars in their region
on the way, which was great for the local economy. And for Char’s bed and breakfast,
Alpaca Haven, the only establishment of its kind in town. It attracted customers left
and right with a reputation for cozy rooms, delicious food, and excellent service.
Being able to pet the cute alpacas on the premises didn’t hurt either.
Char led the way to Em’s door and rang the bell. Stan suddenly felt stupid. She hadn’t
even brought anything. It would occur to her to cook food for animals before people.
Char sensed her anxiety. “Don’t worry about it, honey,” she said. “I don’t think Em’s
gonna run out of food anytime soon. It’s nice that you came.”
Em’s sister, Francine, answered the door. She looked even more anxious than she had
the previous night. Stan doubted her presence was giving Em any peace at all. “Oh,
hello,” Francine said. “How sweet of you to come see Emmy. She needs her friends right
now.”
“Yes, we thought so. We’ve brought shrimp Creole.” Char’s New Orleans origins made
her especially popular in the area. She made the best food and the strongest drinks,
and having fun was a core part of her personality.
Francine brightened and stepped back. “Come in, come in. We’ve had lots of tuna casseroles,
but no shrimp Creole. How generous. Em!” She hollered. “She’s taking care of the boys
right now,” she confided in a low voice. “They’re having such a hard time.” Her face
fell again just thinking about it, and she began picking at her fingernail again.
Stan resisted the urge to grab her hands to stop her. “My poor nephews. And we finally
told Robert. He was . . . he loved his daddy. This is just going to be so hard for
those boys.”
“I know. I’m so sorry,” Char said.
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