He smiled. They had agreed on something. “Go on, what’s next?”
She blinked. “That’s it, Thane.”
“What do you mean, that’s it?”
Autumn crossed her arms and glared, her eyes narrowing into slits. “You vetoed every one of my ideas.”
Dazed, he said, “I did? Would you mind repeating them so I can refresh my memory?”
“Costumes for the residents, followed by costume judging, and you nixed the idea about the staff dressing up too. Renting monster flicks died a quick death along with the telling of scary campfire stories around an imaginary fire. Next you opposed the reading of Poe’s poem “The Raven” as too dreary and the singing of 'Dem Bones, Dem Bones, Dem Dry Bones' as morbid. Fruit punch did meet with your approval, but you wanted orange while I opted for apple.”
“What else did you come up with?” he asked hopefully.
“What else? That was enough to keep them busy til the sun rose the next morning.”
He had to agree with that. “I know you tried, Autumn, but I would like to see some nice, relaxing activities.” Seeing her look of astonishment, he tried to explain it better. “Something not dealing with death, blood, and gore.”
“It will be Halloween night, when the dead leave their graves and roam the earth and you want them to make pot holders and ice-cream-stick jewelry boxes.”
Thane shivered, not at the possibility of ghosts but because she thought he was that colorless. He tried to think of some activities that would be both fun and proper. His mind drew a blank. “How about if I agree to allow the dietician to work up the menu for the party.”
Autumn sighed. It was a beginning. “Okay, that sounds like a good idea.”
“Next we could . . .”
Autumn drummed her fingers on the table and waited. “Go on, Thane. I’m all ears.”
Thane scowled. “Isn’t Mary Reinland our activities director?”
“It’s one of her duties, along with being in charge of housekeeping and the volunteers who come in to help.”
“Maybe I should talk to the director about hiring on some additional help.”
“I already have.” She shook her head at his amazement. “Clark wanted to personally thank me for all the help I’ve been to Mary. As long as I’m willing to volunteer my time and energy, he’s willing to work with me a hundred percent.”
It startled him to realize just how much time she must spend at the home. Why would a beautiful young woman spend all her free time volunteering at a nursing home? He knew she visited Paddy at least twice a week, but he had heard she was also stopping in and spending time with some of the residents who never received visitors. The activities she hosted always brought joy and excitement to the home, even if he didn’t approve of them or her methods. She was only doing what she thought was right, and her heart was in the right place. Autumn O’Neil was one baffling, aggravating, gorgeous woman. The more he came to know her, the more he was fascinated.
He pushed back his chair and stood. “Since Halloween is two weeks away, we still have some time left to think over the details for the party. How about if I call you with some ideas, and you can try to come up with some tranquil games to play?” He washed his hands and rolled down his sleeves. It was time to leave. Autumn was starting to appear more and more as a desirable woman and less and less of an adversary.
Autumn joined Thane as he pulled on his sweater and headed for the front door. “Okay, I’ll put on my thinking cap and try again.”
Thane stopped at the door to look at her. Some time before dinner she had managed to run a comb through her wild curls and brush off the leaves that had been clinging to her. He had noticed her delicate floral perfume as she had bent over his shoulder and drawn the nose on Jack. Her scent was intoxicating.
He pulled open the door and breathed the refreshingly cool breeze blowing in through the screen door. “Thanks again for dinner and the chance to practice my carving skills on Jack.”
“I was glad to have you. My jack-o-lanterns usually look like an orthodontist’s nightmare.”
Thane chuckled as he stepped out the door. “I’ll get back to you in a couple of days.”
He was stepping off the porch when her voice reached him. “Thane, do you realize all this might be for nothing?”
His feet stopped on the top step. “What do you mean?”
“The inspectors might show up tomorrow. Then we can have the goriest Halloween party Maple Leaf has ever seen.”
Thane mumbled an incoherent reply and walked to his car. Now, why would the thought of the inspectors showing up tomorrow and putting an end to the bargain he had reached with Autumn be so depressing?
Chapter Four
Autumn heard the bell over the shop’s front door chime, signaling the entrance of a customer. She turned her head toward the brightly colored patchwork curtain separating the shop from the work area and yelled, “Look around and I’ll be with you in a minute.” With a steady hand she painted the finishing touches to the playful expressions on a row of ducks waddling across a toy box.
A smile played at the corner of Thane’s mouth as he stepped inside, a paper bag in hand. For the past two days he had been trying to picture what a used-goods store would look like. He had imagined shelves and boxes jammed with junk. The total opposite was true of Second Chances. Wooden floors gleamed, walls were painted a creamy green, and an assorted group of tasteful items graced the window display area. With keen interest he walked around the shop and examined the merchandise. Toasters shone, clothes were neatly hung, and infant car seats were three deep. Scarves had been lovingly draped over oak bureaus, and someone’s gilt-framed ancestors adorned the back wall. Quilts overflowed from a seaman’s trunk, and a miniature pink table and chairs was set for a tea party, complete with mismatched Raggedy Ann and Andy dolls. The entire shop invited a curious hand to touch.
Thane walked toward the glass display case that served as a counter. He had never figured Autumn to be so organized or tidy. Second Chances was the kind of shop that begged to be explored. He went around the counter and moved the patchwork curtain aside, wondering what treasure he might discover behind it.
Claustrophobia washed over him as he stepped into the work area. Towering boxes reached to the ceiling. Furniture was stacked helter-skelter, casting grotesque shadows under the glare of the overhead lights. A path to Autumn’s worktable was halfheartedly formed between the precariously balanced columns of junk. He shook his head as he watched her paint. Anyone could have come into the shop and robbed her blind. “Is it safe to walk through this?”
Autumn quickly turned at the sound of Thane’s voice. Her heartbeat raced at the sight of him standing in the doorway. “Make sure you don’t brush up against anything and you should be okay.”
Thane cautiously made his way to her. “How can you stand to work in here?”
She looked around and shrugged. “Most of the time I just ignore it.”
He gazed at her upturned lips and laughing eyes. A huge paint-smeared green sweatshirt advertising an Irish pub covered her from neck to midthigh. Faded jeans hugged long legs wrapped around the stool she was perched on. She looked endearing. “What do you do the other times?”
“Dig through it looking for my next project.”
He stepped closer and examined the white wooden toy chest on the worktable. His gaze shifted to the assortment of open paints and brushes and then back to the box. “Did you paint those ducks?”
Autumn nervously shifted on the stool. She felt exposed and vulnerable as Thane closely examined her work. When she had been in high school, the art teacher had insisted she possessed a natural talent for drawing. Autumn had suppressed the desire to draw and pursued a career in law enforcement. She had limited herself to the occasional picture for her nieces and nephews. “Yes, do you think they look okay?”
Thane heard the doubt in her voice and was amazed. Autumn was unsure of herself. He studied the proud mother duck and the three ducklings
with angelic expressions lighting their faces. The scene was adorable, but what really caught his eye was the fourth duckling. Autumn had portrayed it as reluctant, disgruntled, and offended that he should have to wear a cute sailor cap. “I think they’re wonderful. If I knew anyone who had a baby, I’d be tempted to buy this toy chest.”
Autumn’s smile was radiant. “Thank you.”
“Did you paint the clown on the bureau in the display window too?”
“Yes.”
He reached out a hand and slowly ran the back of his fingers down her soft cheek. “You are constantly surprising me.”
Her voice held a breathless quality. “I am?”
“You grill a mean cheese sandwich, kiss like a dream, and now I discover you’re a talented artist.”
“I do?”
His hand gently cupped her jaw. “You do what?”
“Kiss like a dream?”
He placed the paper bag he’d been holding on the table and cupped her other cheek. “Most definitely.” His head lowered, and he softly brushed his lips across hers. “A sweet” --he nipped her lower lip-- “tormenting” --he slowly ran his tongue over the same spot-- “recurring dream.”
Autumn shivered as she willingly raised her mouth. Thane needed no other invitation. He took what was offered. She felt herself being lifted from the stool and into his arms. Heat pooled in her stomach and started to radiate outward as his tongue playfully engaged hers in a duel.
The playfulness of the kiss was swiftly being replaced by need when the faint tinkering of a bell sounded. Thane broke the kiss and trailed a moist path to her delicate pink earlobe. “Autumn, I’m hearing bells.”
She tilted her head and listened to the voices coming from within the shop. “Thane.”
He nipped her ear. “Hmmm . . . ?”
“You did hear a bell.” His tongue ran over the pounding pulse in her neck. Why in the hell did she have to own a shop open to the general public? Her voice held regret as she said, “I have customers.”
Thane froze. She had done it to him again. He got within a foot of her and ended up kissing her once more. And he couldn’t even blame it on her. This time he had initiated the whole thing. Autumn O’Neil was becoming a dangerous obsession, one that could ruin everything he had worked for in the past three years. He regrettably released her and stepped back. “Go take care of business.”
Autumn frowned as she ran her fingers through her hair. Stuffy Doc Clayborne was back, and if he so much as tried to apologize for this kiss, she’d whack him over his head with the coatrack standing next to him. She straightened her sweatshirt and mustered a pleasant smile. “I’ll be right back. Make yourself at home.”
Thane’s gaze followed her as she pulled the curtain aside and slipped out into the shop. He slowly lowered himself to the stool as the voices filtered their way to him. Whoever was in the shop obviously knew Autumn.
Twenty minutes later Autumn bid good-bye to the Fabin sisters, Birdie and Edith, and watched as her two most important-- and faithful-- customers climbed into Birdie’s late husband’s, 1972 black Cadillac and drove away. She glanced down at the piece of paper clutched in her hand and sighed. The Fabin sisters, both in their late sixties, had decided to start their Christmas shopping early. They had compiled a list of preferred items, colors, and sizes they were hoping Autumn would keep her eyes open for. She folded the paper and slipped it into her back pocket, wondering where she was ever going to find a stuffed six-foot giraffe and a Hawaiian grass skirt.
“Penny for your thoughts.”
She turned and palmed the shiny copper penny Thane held out. “Know any hula dancers?”
He chuckled as his penny disappeared into her pocket. He had to have asked. “I’m afraid that’s one thing Dogwood is a little short on.” Horror suddenly struck him. “Please tell me you’re not planning a luau for Maple Leaf.”
Autumn tilted her head and thought about the idea. An impish smile lit up her face. “That’s a wonderful suggestion, Thane, but you forgot one thing.”
“What?”
“It’s getting chilly outside. You can’t have all the residents outside roasting a pig and drinking funny drinks with umbrellas in them. They could wind up catching a cold.”
Thane didn’t know if she was serious or not. The thought of her digging a roasting pit off the patio sent chills down his spine. To be on the safe side, he prayed winter would hurry up. “Why do you need a hula dancer?”
“I don’t need the dancer, just the grass skirt.”
His gaze lowered to her gently curved hips. Autumn swinging her hips wearing nothing but a grass skirt held great appeal. Who did he know who might have a grass skirt?
Autumn felt a flush sweep up her cheeks at Thane’s heated stare. “It’s not for me!”
He flashed a wicked grin. “That’s a shame.”
Flabbergasted and thrown off balance by the sudden shift in his attitude, she snapped, “Was there a reason you stopped by?”
Thane liked the new, flustered Autumn. For the past twenty minutes he had been reciting every reason he could think of not to become involved with her. But when he saw her staring dejectedly out the shop’s window, his instinct was to comfort her, not push her away. “I brought some tapes for you to look at.”
“Tapes?”
He nodded toward the counter, where he had placed the brown bag, and leaned against the wall. He watched the enticing sway of her hips as she strolled across the room. What were those reasons not to get involved?
Autumn reached into the bag and pulled out half a dozen video tapes. Her eyes lit up as she started to read the labels. “Frankenstein, Dracula, The Werewolf, The Mummy . . .” Amazed, she said, “These are the black-and-white originals.”
“I know.”
Confused, she said, “I don’t understand.”
“I’ve been thinking about the Halloween party.” He pushed away from the wall and walked toward her. “It was pretty unfair of me to veto every one of your suggestions the other night.” He smiled as she nodded. “I thought maybe we could have a film festival running all day at the home. We could save the best movie for the party.”
Her hearing must be going. She could have sworn he’d said all day. “All day?”
“We set up the game room as a theater and run the movies there. The main party can be held in the dining room. That way the residents will have a choice of what they can do—play games or watch movies.”
“Why are you so gung ho on movies when you’d already vetoed them?”
“When you mentioned them, I envisioned fifty-two senior citizens scared to death to go to sleep for fear some maniac with a chain saw would go berserk in the home.”
“Lord, Thane, that’s sick. Those movies aren’t horror pictures, they’re slashers.” She raised a couple of tapes. “These are the kind of movies I had in mind. Every one of those sweet senior citizens have seen these at least once in their life. Not only will they be entertaining, but I’m sure they’ll bring back some memories.”
“You think so?” he asked.
“I know so.” She glanced at the six tapes. “Which one should we save for the actual party?”
Thane shrugged. “Got me. I never saw any of them.”
Appalled, she stared at him. “You’ve got to be kidding. These are classics.”
He felt as if he had committed the ultimate sin. In a defensive gesture he crossed his arms. “So, shoot me.”
“You just have to watch these, Thane. They’re great.”
A devilish spark twinkled in his eyes. “What happens if I get scared?”
“Have someone there with you.”
The spark flared. “Okay, you talked me into it.” He picked up the tapes and headed for the door. “I’ll be at your place around six.”
“But--”
“Don’t worry about feeding me. I’ll bring the food.”
Autumn snapped her mouth closed as she glared out the window and watched as Thane disappeared down t
he street. She had been set up! Why, that low-down son of a sea biscuit. Her low, throaty laugh filled the shop. Mister I’ve-never-seen-a-horror-film was in for a real treat. What was a horror-film festival without the original The Night of the Living Dead?
#
Thane opened his office door and frowned. Where was Richard Gudgmore, his ten-thirty appointment? Worried, Thane stared down the deserted hallway and wondered what had happened to everyone.
Hearing distant voices and what suspiciously sounded like thunder, he walked toward the din. His anxiety turned into understanding. Autumn had brought the pumpkins, along with an audio aid. His footsteps faltered at the closed doors to the dining room. Did he really want to see what was happening in there? Laughter and chatter were being drowned out by the high-pitched wailing of a banshee.
Thane’s curiosity overcame his common sense. He needed to know what was going on, even though he knew he would regret the knowledge. When Autumn had called him that morning to get his consent to paint a few pumpkins with the residents, he had felt victorious. She had been asking his permission first. Now he wasn’t too sure who exactly was victorious.
He pushed the swinging door a few inches and glanced around. It was worse than he had imagined. All the residents who weren’t bedridden were clustered around newspaper-covered tables painting faces on small pumpkins. At least that was what he conceived they were supposed to be doing. Actually the scene resembled a nightmare Picasso might have had. Paint had splattered, dripped, and spilled over half the residents. Some pumpkins wore ghoulish expressions, while others seemed filled with childish delight.
The walls vibrated with the sound of an approaching locomotive. He stepped into the bedlam, located a purple boom box blasting a tape of Halloween fright sounds, and lowered the volume a couple of notches.
“Isn’t it wonderful?”
Thane glanced at Nurse Harris and debated about how to answer. “Wonderful” was winning the number-one slot from VCRP. “Wonderful” was the way Autumn kissed or the sound of her laughter. “Wonderful” was diagnosing an illness in its early stages. “Wonderful” was not having a few pumpkins turn into an entire crop. He looked over at Clark Baker, who was helping Cecil hold a paintbrush. “I see the entire staff is here pitching in.”
Midnight Kiss Page 5