Chapter Twelve
“The Monster Mash” blared from five-foot speakers in the back of Mayor Tanasee’s Dodge pickup. Fake spiderwebs wrapped the truck in a gossamer tangle and two gravestones stood in the bed. The Dodge crawled up Main Street with witches and vampires, clowns and princesses, trailing behind. The excited chatter of ghosts and goblins mixed with the music and kicked off the annual Halloween parade.
Delaney stood in the sparse crowd in front of her salon. She shivered and snuggled deep into her green wool coat with the big glittery buttons. She was freezing, unlike Lisa who stood next to her in a B.U.M sweatshirt and a pair of cotton gloves. The newspaper predicted unseasonable warmth for the last day in October. The temperature was supposed to shoot up to a whopping forty degrees.
As a child, Delaney had loved the Halloween parade. She’d loved dressing up and marching through town to the high school gymnasium where the costume contest would begin. She’d never won, but loved it any way. It had given her a chance to play dress-up and cake on the cosmetics. She wondered if they still served cider and glazed doughnuts and if the new mayor handed out little bags of candy like Henry had done.
“Remember when we were in the sixth grade and shaved our eyebrows and dressed as psychotic killers and had blood squirting out of our necks?” Lisa asked from beside Delaney. “And your mother lost it big time?”
She remembered all right. Her mother had made her a stupid bride costume that year. Delaney had pretended to love the dress, only to turn up at the parade as a blood-soaked killer with no eyebrows. Thinking back, she didn’t know how she’d gathered the nerve to do something she’d known would anger her mother.
The next year Delaney had been forced to dress as a Smurf.
“Look at that kid and his dog,” Delaney said, pointing to a boy dressed as a box of McDonald’s french fries and his little dachshund decked out as a package of ketchup. It had been a long time since Delaney had driven through McDonald’s. “I’m craving a Quarter Pounder with cheese right now.” She sighed, visions of a greasy beef patty making her mouth water.
“Maybe one will walk down the street next.”
Delaney looked at her friend out of the corner of her eye. “I’ll fight you for it.”
“You’re no match for me, city girl. Look at you shivering to death in your big ol‘ coat.”
“I just need to acclimate,” Delaney grumbled, watching a woman and her baby dinosaur step from the sidewalk and join the parade. A door opened and closed somewhere behind her, and she turned, but no one had entered her salon.
“Where’s Louie?”
“He’s in the parade with Sophie.”
“As what?”
“You’ll see. It’s a surprise.”
Delaney smiled. She had a surprise of her own coming up. She’d had to get up real early this morning, but if everything went according to her plan, her business would take off.
A second truck slowly moved past with a big smoking cauldron and cackling witch on its flatbed. Despite the crazy black hair and green face, the crone looked slightly familiar.
“Who’s that witch?” Delaney asked.
“Hmm. Oh it’s Neva. You remember Neva Miller, don’t you?”
“Of course.” Neva had been wild and outrageous. She’d regaled Delaney with stories of stealing booze, smoking pot, and having sex with the football team. And Delaney had hung on every word. She leaned toward Lisa and whispered, “Remember when she told us about blowing Roger Bonner while he pulled his little brother water skiing? And you didn’t know what a blow job was so she told us in graphic detail?”
“Yeah, and you started to gag.” Lisa pointed to the man driving the truck. “That’s her husband, Pastor Jim.”
“Pastor? Holy hell!”
“Yep, she got saved or born again or whatever. Pastor Jim preaches over at that little church on Seventh Street.”
“It’s Pastor Tim,” corrected a painfully familiar voice directly behind Delaney.
Delaney did a mental groan. It was so typical of Nick to sneak up on her when she least expected him.
“How do you know it’s Tim?” Lisa wanted to know.
“We built his house a few years ago.” Nick’s voice was low, like he hadn’t used it much that morning.
“Oh, I thought maybe he prays for your soul.”
“No. My mother prays for my soul.”
Delaney cast a quick glance over her shoulder. “Maybe she should make a pilgrimage to Lourdes, or to that tortilla shrine in New Mexico.”
An easy smile curved Nick’s mouth. He’d pulled a thick hooded sweatshirt over his head; the white strings hung down his chest. His hair was pulled back from his face. “Maybe,” was all he said.
Delaney turned to the parade again. She raised her shoulders and buried her cold nose in the collar of her coat. There was only one thing worse than being baited by Nick, and that was wondering why he wasn’t baiting her at all. She’d seen very little of him since the day she’d knocked on the back door of his business. By tacit agreement, they were avoiding each other.
“Where did you come from?” Lisa asked him.
“I was making a few calls from the office. Has Sophie come by yet?”
“Not yet.”
Four boys dressed as bloody hockey players wheeled past on Roller Blades and were followed closely by Tommy Markham pulling his wife in a rickshaw. Helen was dressed as Lady Godiva, and on the back of the rickshaw hung a sign that read Helen’s Hair Hut. Quality cuts for ten dollars. Helen waved and threw kisses to the crowd, and on her head sat a rhinestone crown Delaney recognized all too well.
Delaney dropped her shoulders and uncovered the lower half of her face. “That’s pathetic! She’s still wearing her homecoming crown.”
“She wears it every year like she’s the queen of England or something.”
“Remember how she campaigned for homecoming queen, and I didn’t because campaigning was against the rules? Then after she won the school wouldn’t disqualify her? That crown should have been mine.”
“Are you still mad about that?”
Delaney folded her arms over her chest. “No.” But she was. She was annoyed with herself for giving Helen the power to irritate her after so many years. Delaney was cold, possibly neurotic, and very aware of the man standing behind her. Too aware. She didn’t have too see him to know how close he stood. She could feel him like a big human wall.
Except for the time Nick had ridden his bike in the parade like some crazed stunt rider and ended up with stitches in the top of his head, he’d always been a pirate-always. And every year she’d taken one look at his eye patch and fake sword, and her hands would get all clammy. A weird reaction considering that he usually told her she looked stupid.
She turned her head and glanced up at him again with his dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and small gold hoop in his ear. He still looked like a pirate, and she was getting a warm little tingle in her stomach.
“I didn’t see your car in back,” he said, his eyes staring into hers.
“Um, no. Steve has it.”
A frown creased his brow. “Steve?”
“Steve Ames. He works for you.”
“Real young guy with dyed blond hair?”
“He’s not that young.”
“Uh-huh.” Nick shifted his weight to one foot and tilted his head slightly to the side. “Sure he’s not.”
“Well, he’s nice.”
“He’s a nancy boy.”
Delaney turned and scowled at her friend. “Do you think Steve’s a nancy boy?”
Lisa looked from Nick to Delaney. “You know I love you, but geez, the guy plays air guitar.”
Delaney shoved her hands into her pockets and turned to watch Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, and a Hershey’s
