The Stitching Hour by Amanda Lee Page A

“
Act
scared . . . blown away . . . awed by the entire spectacle.” He raised my arm, kissed my hand, and then went up my arm as far as our seat belts would allow while I giggled helplessly. “Let’s make it an evening to remember,
cara mia
.”
    Yes, of course, I’d told him that the Atwoods reminded me of Gomez and Morticia.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    Manu and Reggie were standing on the sidewalk near the Seven-Year Stitch when we arrived. It had started to drizzle, and Reggie held an umbrella over her head. She looked as glum as the weather. Manu, on the other hand, seemed ready to enjoy the show. Unlike his wife, Manu preferred Western clothing. This evening, he wore jeans, a plaid shirt with a brown leather vest, and a brown cowboy hat. Reggie wore a turquoise smock, with white Indian embroidery called
chikankari
, and matching pants.
    We got out of the Jeep, and I hurried over to Reggie. I hadn’t bothered with an umbrella. I guessed my short platinum hair would go in every direction regardless. The Oregon weather was one of the reasons I hadn’t let it grow out into a style that would’ve been more difficult to manage.
    â€œDid you bring a flyer for the library’s haunted house?” I asked.
    She nodded. “I have to say, though, I’m still uncomfortable about this whole thing.”
    â€œShe feels threatened by it,” said Manu. “She’s afraid it’ll be some spectacular thing that will outshine the library’s efforts in every way.”
    â€œThey go from one extreme to another,” Ted said, slipping an arm around my waist. “Marcy is afraid she won’t be able to act suitably impressed and will insult the Atwoods.”
    We all laughed.
    â€œLet’s just go in with the resolution to have fun,” I said. “No matter what.”
    â€œNo matter what,” Reggie agreed.
    Todd joined us and asked what we were doing “no matter what.”
    â€œHaving fun,” I said.
    â€œAll right.” He took Ted’s hand. “Shall we?”
    â€œGet that hand away from me, Calloway. God only knows where it’s been.”
    â€œI’ve just been picking my nose is all,” teased Todd. “Besides, you said I can hold your hand if I get scared.”
    â€œIf you’re scared at this point, you’d better go back to the pub and have a juice box, Junior,” said Ted. “Maybe Reggie’s kiddie funhouse is more suitable for you.”
    Todd dropped Ted’s hand and looked at me. “I feel slightly insulted.”
    â€œThen you’d better suck it up, Buttercup,” I said. “Let’s go on inside before we all get drenched.”
    â€œI must be adorable for you guys to keep calling me nicknames,” he said.
    â€œYeah,” Ted said flatly. “We can hardly stand you . . . you know, because you’re so cute.”
    We all walked into the Horror Emporium, which was filled with familiar faces. Claude and Priscilla greeted us with the exuberance and style I’d come to expect.
    Priscilla was dressed in an Elvira-Mistress-of-the-Night-type gown with her tangerine hair piled high on her head. She wore long black opera gloves and had a large square emerald ring on her left hand. It fit perfectly atop the glove, so I thought it must be part of the costume.
    â€œWelcome!” Priscilla did a curtsy that I supposed the men appreciated, given the amount of cleavage she was showing.
    Claude tipped his top hat and bowed. This evening, he wore a black tux and tails. He took Reggie’s hand and kissed it. She slid her eyes in my direction, and I stifled a giggle. He kissed my hand next and told us all ever so gallantly that he was delighted we could attend their soiree.
    Ted and Manu were practically gaping at each other. Todd, naturally, went right along with the madness.
    â€œClaude, my good man,” he said. “What