by Robin Roseau
I backed out of the room, closing and locking the door and pocketing the key.
Then I checked briefly for any signs of decidedly not Christian symbols, but Lydia had done a good job.
Feeling somewhat relieved, I headed for the stairs.
* * * *
From the top of the stairs, I could see all my guests for the evening had arrived, plus one. Ron stood next to a woman I recognized as Jenny’s mom, Abby. I’d met her at some point in the past. Well, one more would be quite welcome. The two were talking to Phoebe Mathis, and I could hear the girls giggling from the next room. I descended the stairs, and Phoebe looked up to me with a smile.
“There she is.”
“Sorry about that. Emergency house cleaning and all that.”
“Oh, I hate having to do that,” Abby said immediately. She held out her hand. “It’s so gracious of you to open your home. I’m Abby White.”
“We’ve met, I think,” I said, taking her hand. “I don’t remember what event.”
“Soccer last spring, perhaps,” she suggested. “I hope you don’t mind one more.”
“Not at all. I thought we should perhaps address the most important issue first.”
Ron rubbed his hands. “The theme for the haunted house?”
“Not hardly,” said his wife. “Jackie has a house full of hungry teenagers. Am I right?”
I laughed. “You are, indeed. Let’s get something started, and then we can collect the munchkins and talk about the theme.”
“I’m thinking something spooky,” Ron said. He was grinning, and I wondered if he was teasing his wife or me.
“Ignore him,” Abby said. “He’s always like that.” She turned to her husband. “You geek.”
“I love Halloween,” he said, and he sounded just like a little kid.
“Oh, so do I,” Phoebe and I said together. We glanced at each other and laughed. Then she hooked her arm in mine and asked, “Which way to the kitchen, and what do I get to chop?”
* * * *
I gave a mini tour of the house on the way to the kitchen. It looked like Lydia had already shown the girls around—and provided soft drinks besides.
“Oh god,” I muttered. “No one tell Rose’s mother.”
Phoebe cocked her head, one hand beside an ear. “Do you hear that?” she asked.
“Hear what?”
“It sounds like a helicopter. No, wait, it sounds like a parent.” Then she glanced at me nervously. “Please don’t tell anyone I said that.”
“Mum’s the word,” I replied.
Behind us, Ron snorted. “I get it. A helicopter parent.”
“Don’t embarrass me,” Abby told him.
“Don’t worry,” I said over my shoulder. “He’s in an entire house full of women. Imagine the estrogen we’re producing. He’s going to be drenched in it. He won’t be able to help let out his feminine side by the end of the evening.”
Abby laughed. “Why do you think I make him help out for these things?”
“Hey!” Ron exclaimed. “I’m a manly man, and I am immune to your estro-thing.” He puffed out his chest, but I saw the look he exchanged with Abby, and I knew I didn’t need to worry about them. They were good people.
Once we were in the kitchen, both Phoebe and Abby volunteered to help with whatever we about to make. “But surely we can just order pizza?”
“We can do better than pizza,” I said. “Baked ziti with homemade garlic cheese bread.” I began directing. “Ron, my medium stock pot is up there, please. I need it two thirds full of water and on the big back burner on high.”
“For the pasta,” Ron said.
“Got it in one. Who wants to brown the hamburger and sausage?” Phoebe raised her hand.
“I guess that leaves me on garlic bread,” Abby said. “I love your kitchen!”
“Thanks,” I said.
With everyone put to work, I began assembling the ingredients for the sauce itself. The four of us talked easily, mostly about the kids, while we prepared everything. Twenty minutes after we had started, two pans of ziti were in the oven, and the garlic bread was ready to go in when it was time.
Ron had even taken care of the dishes, so the kitchen was nearly spotless. I quietly thanked him.
“I like doing dishes,” he said. “Abby is a fright in the kitchen, and when she’s done, it looks like a tornado has been through. I can’t stand that. So I keep up with whatever mess she produces. It gives us time together, and it makes me feel like, even if I can’t cook, I can help.”
Looking at her, I could believe it. She had a few flecks of mozzarella in her hair, but it was too cute to say anything. There had been more spread out on the table where she’d worked, but Ron had cleaned it all up without a word.
Then the four of us looked at each other. “All right,” I said. “It’s a little cozy in here with nine, so let’s meet the girls in the living room. We can discuss concepts.”
* * * *
The girls were talking earnestly when we stepped out, but they looked up as the adults joined them.
“What’s for dinner, Auntie Jackie?”
“We made soup from pureed squash, asparagus, and Brussels sprouts,” I said. “You’ll love it.”
“Don’t embarrass me,” she replied immediately. “What are we really having?”
“Baked ziti and garlic bread.”
“Excellent!” she said, holding up her hand. I crossed the room to her and accepted the high five. “We’ve been discussing themes.”
“Have you?” I asked. “We’re out here to discuss that very topic. Now make room for the adults.”
We all took seats, and somehow I ended on the sofa with Phoebe pressed against me. I have no idea how Lydia managed that, but she smirked at me.
“Knock it off,” I mouthed to her.
She shrugged and turned away.
“First, does everyone know Mrs. White?” Then did, and so I asked, “So, themes. You’ve been discussing it. What conclusions have you come to?”
“Well, everyone does graveyards,” Jenny said.
“Or spooky old mansions,” Rose added.
“Right,” Janie agreed. “Has anyone ever even been in a spooky mansion? I never have.”
“Maybe that’s what makes them spooky,” Ron suggested, earning himself eight instances of The Look. “Right,” he said. “I’ll shut up.” Abby patted his hand.
“Our point,” Lydia said, “Is that if we’re going to do something, we don’t want to do the same thing everyone else does.”
“Except,” said Janie. “There are some things you have to do if you’re going to have a spooky haunted house.”
“That isn’t a mansion,” Rose pointed out.
“Right,” Janie agreed.
“So,” I suggested. “You want some of the clichés, but not all of them.”
“Exactly,” Lydia said. “See? I told you she’d get it.”
“I got it,” Ron said quietly. “What clichés are we keeping?”
“Well, creepy spiders,” Lydia suggested. “I wonder if we can get some live tarantulas.”
“No,” every adult said at the same time.
“No zombies,” Rose said. “Lately, everything is zombie this and zombie that. No zombies.”
“No zombies,” the girls agreed together.
“Maybe one zombie,” Jenny said. She looked at her dad, and everyone cracked up.
“Oh, sure,” he said. “Pick on me. I can take it.” But then he buffed his fingernails on his shirt. “But I have an awesome zombie costume.”
“He totally does,” Jenny agreed. “Last year I got to help with the make up. It was so gross.” But she grinned. “Mom, are you helping, too? I couldn’t do Dad’s makeup without help.”
Abby looked around for a moment. “Are we going to have live actors?”
We all turned to Phoebe.
“Hey, I’m not leading this committee,” she said, turning her gaze to me. “Are we having live actors?”
“I don’t remember the rules about that.”
“There aren’t any, but you probably shouldn’t have them touching the kids. And we can’t have them too scary. Our youngest kids are sixth grade, but they have younger siblings.”
“Oh,” said Lydia. “That’s right. Deena’s little brother is only seven.”
“Well, girls, do we want live actors?”
“Totally!” they said together.
“Dad can be a zombie,” Jenny said. “And Mom can be the zombie queen. She makes herself into an awesome zombie queen.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Abby started to say. But then she received five pair of puppy-dog eyes from five well-practiced teenage girls. I knew I couldn’t have resisted that much charm turned in my direction. It took her about a second and a half to cave. “If you really want me.” The girls agreed they really wanted her. “I don’t know anything about construction, though, but I can do costumes and makeup if I get help.”
“We’ll help!” all five girls said at once. When Jenny talked up how good her mother was at costumes, all five girls wanted Abby to make one for her. But then Lydia looked over at Phoebe and me, sitting on the couch.
“That’s too many,” she said slowly.
“No it’s not,” Jenny said.
“Yes it is. She has to do a zombie costume for your dad, a zombie queen costume for herself, a costume for you cause you’re her daughter. That’s three right there. Then she has to do one for Aunt Jackie and Ms. Mathis. That’s five. She can’t do four more for us. That’s too many.”
“Maybe it’s not,” Abby said slowly. She looked at Phoebe and me. “Do you two want costumes?”
“Of course they do,” Lydia said immediately.
“Lydia,” I said warningly.
“It’s all right,” Abby said immediately. “I already have the costumes for Ron and me, if Jenny won’t be too embarrassed seeing her old folks in the same costumes from a couple of years ago. You’re having a construction party this weekend. We could do a costuming party next weekend. Jenny knows how to sew. If the girls can each donate a white blouse and black skirt, there won’t be that much to sew. Can we get a second machine?”
“My mom has one,” Lydia said. “I’m sure she’d let us use it.”
“And I have one,” Phoebe said. “Are you sure, Abby?”
The woman smiled. “I’m sure. Will you wear what I make for you, Ms. Mathis?”
The woman looked nervous for a moment, then laughed and nodded.
“And you, Jackie?”
“Um. Sure. That would be great.”
“So that’s settled. Girls, check with your parents when you get home tonight and tell Jenny tomorrow.”
“Yes, Mrs. White!” they intoned together.
“So, themes,” I said after a moment. “We have just enough time before dinner to try to pick a theme. We were discussing acceptable clichés.”
“Right,” Lydia said. “So we have a zombie and a zombie queen. The stodgy adults ruled out live spiders. But how about live black cats?” She turned and looked pointedly at me.
“I do not believe Pyewacket wants to attend a Halloween party.”
“Wait,” said Phoebe. “You have a black cat named Pyewacket? Shouldn’t he be dusty white and black?”
“He is,” I said. “And he’s incredibly shy. You know your old movies.”
“I love that movie,” she said. “It breaks my heart when she begins to cry, at the end.”
“Oh, I know.”
“What are they talking about?” Janie asked.
“Some old movie,” Lydia said. “Aunt Jackie named her cat after the cat from the movie. It’s the only dorky thing she’s ever done.”
“That’s not true,” I said. “Did I ever tell you how I talked your mom into calling you Lydia?”
“Yes, but if you tell my friends, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”
The four girls began teasing Lydia, but she put up with it good-naturedly. In my ear, Phoebe asked, “Another movie reference?”
“Totally,” I said.
“Good choice. She even looks a little like Winona Ryder.”
“A tall Winona Ryder,” I said. “Yep.” Then I lifted my voice. “So, black cats, but no live black cats. Can we stop asking about live animals?”
The girls threw out a few more clichés, voting yes or no to some of them.
“All that’s great,” I said. “But we need a basic theme. You don’t want a graveyard or a haunted mansion. Do you know what you want?”
The girls looked at each other, but then Lydia slowly turned her head towards me. “I bet you have an idea.”
“I might have one or two,” I said.
“What?” Jenny asked.
Every pair of eyes turned towards me.
“It might be stupid.”
“It might,” Lydia said. “But didn’t you once tell me there were no stupid ideas, only stupid people?”
“Lydia!” I said. “I’m sure I never said any such thing. I’m sure it was your father.”
She laughed. “It wasn’t Dad. Spill.”
“Well, we could do a maze,” I said. “Like, one of those hedge mazes, like the one from The Shining.”
The girls had no idea what I meant, but they had another movie much dearer and closer to their hearts. “There’s one in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire,” Rose said. “The Triwizard Maze.”
“Oh yeah,” Rose said. “Oh, can we do that? That would be totally cool!”
“We can’t call it the Triwizard Maze. We have to do our own maze,” Lydia said. “Everyone does Harry Potter stuff.”
“Illegal cliché?” I asked.
“Exactly,” she said. “But the hedge maze is a great idea. Can we do it?”
“I don’t know how you’re going to grow a hedge maze in the gymnasium,” Phoebe said slowly.
I looked at Ron. “If we can use your truck and trailer, I know where we can get a whole ton of dead brush.”
“We could make boxes,” he added. “And kind of plant the brush. We’d need some wire to help hold everything together...” He trailed off, and I could see the wheels turning. “But I don’t think we can haul an entire maze’s worth of brush in my trailer.”
“You could use flats for most of the maze,” Abby said. “And use the planter things for highlights.” Everyone turned to her.
“Flats?” I asked.
“Yeah. Theater flats.”
“Of course,” Ron said. “That would work.”
“Theater flats?” I asked.
She smiled. “I did a lot of theater in college. That’s where I learned most of my costuming tricks. The flats are thin and easy to set up. You can pack a lot of them in a small space, and they’re easy to make. The girls can paint them.”
At that point, the timer went off for the garlic bread. I hurried to the kitchen to pop it in. When I got back, ideas were flowing a mile a minute.
“I take it we like this idea,” I said, sitting down.
“It’s perfect!” Lydia replied.
“I’m concerned about the budget,” Phoebe said.
“Ron and I already talked about that,” I said. “He and I both have some supplies gathering dust. I’m sure between the two of us, we’ll be able to do this. What do you think, Ron?”
“I think you’re right.”
“It’s too bad we can’t get any scaffolding,” Abby said.
“Scaffolding would be perfect!” Ron said.
Phoebe spoke up. “We can’t have the children climbing on construction equipment.”
“Of course not,” he replied. “But they make great portable walls. It’s too bad we can’t get any.”
“That may not be true,” I said with a smile. I pulled my phone from my pocket. As the rest of them talked about the scary things they wanted to build, I called a friend.
“Jay-jay!” I said into the phone. “How’s my favorite self employed construction worker?”
�
��Suddenly nervous,” she replied. “What broke on your house?”
“Nothing,” I said sweetly. “Can’t I call a friend without wanting something?”
“Uh huh. How’s that niece of yours?”
“She’s good. She wants to ask you for a favor.”
“Oh, no!” Jay-jay said. “Do not put that girl on the phone to ask a favor. You know just thinking about her little doe eyes makes me melt. I’ll hang up. I swear.”
I laughed. “She’s afraid of you, Lydia.”
“Why would she be afraid of me?” Lydia asked.
“Lydia’s hurt you’re afraid of her.” My tone changed. “Look, if this is going to cost you more than a little gas, tell me ‘no’, okay?”
“So you’ll put the doe-eyed one to work on it?”
“No, seriously.” Then I told her what we were doing and what we wanted. “Do you have any sitting around?”
“I just might,” Jay-jay replied. “How much do you need?”
“Ron, how much do we need?”
“Enough to half-cover a school gym, one level high.”
I repeated that to Jay-jay. “We might not use it all,” I said. “Um. Is that a lot?”
“Yeah, that’s a lot,” she said. “It’ll cost you.”
“Oh god. What?”
“Two things. No. Three things. You’re lucky. We just finished a big job.”
“What did you want, Jay-jay?”
“Well, first, a date.”
“I’m pretty sure Karla would skin me alive.”
“Not for me! A friend. She’s nice. She had a bad breakup a few months ago and isn’t ready for a relationship, but she could use a date with someone who won’t just try to get her into bed. I’ll arrange for you to meet, and you charm her.”
I thought about it. I could use a no-pressure date, too. “How ugly is she?”
“I can’t believe you’re that shallow. You won’t help out a fellow woman in need?”
“Come on, Jay-jay. I just want to be warned.”
“She’s okay,” Jay-jay said. “She’s really sweet.”
“Come on. What’s wrong with her? I’m going to find out, but I’d rather find out now than when I meet her and respond poorly.”
“There’s nothing wrong with her,” Jay-jay said. “She doesn’t turn heads, but you’ll like her. I swear.”
