The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine

by Kate Angell

  Ninety minutes later, Grace dusted off her hands, said, “Place the blue velvet wingback armchair between the china cabinet and table, and call it a night. Be careful of the crystal ball.”

  He was aware of the ball. It had been on his mind all evening. The lady from Bangor had come downstairs for a cup of tea, and gazed upon it for a good twenty minutes before returning upstairs. She’d left disappointed. No image.

  The man who’d taken souvenir iPhone photos of the yard also peered deeply into the crystal sphere. His eyes rounded. “A baby,” he murmured. “My wife and I have been trying to have children. Maybe there is a little one in our future.” He walked off in a daze.

  Cade hefted the armchair near the sunroom and carried it across the hardwood floor. He was about to set it down when Archie popped up, got underfoot. Cade tripped, set the chair down hard. He accidentally bumped the marble-top table with his hip. The crystal ball tipped on its stand.

  He and Grace simultaneously lunged for the ball. He touched it first, saving it from rolling onto the table. From dropping to the floor. As he held it on his palm the ball felt weighty. Warmth seemed to emanate from it, and a gray mist swirled in its depths. He couldn’t tear his gaze away. What he saw then, he soon wished he hadn’t. It made no sense. An unidentifiable dark-haired woman, her back to him, a small black cat tattoo on the side of her neck. The image was gone as quickly as it had formed. He carefully returned the ball to its stand. Archie rubbed against his ankles.

  “Crazy cat,” he mumbled, “jumping out at me.”

  “His way of getting you to look into the crystal ball.”

  “It was intentional, really?” He didn’t believe for a second the big cat had timed that move. It was pure coincidence.

  “Maine coons are mystical.”

  He considered Archibald more of a menace. The big boy scratched the toe of his boot. Leaving claw marks.

  Grace was expectant. “You received a message.” She waited for him to share.

  A message that made no sense. He tucked it away, kept it to himself. No need for Grace or Amelia to read more into the woman and her tattoo than was there. “Nothing of importance.”

  She pursed her lips, and he awaited her argument. None was forthcoming. Instead, she nudged him toward the door. “You were on your way out.”

  That he was. “Later.”

  He had no doubt he’d be back again bright and early. He departed then. Outside, and the yard came alive. The air seemed to breathe Halloween. The orange twinkle lights cast an eerie glow. The spider, zombies, and gargoyles had him looking over his shoulder, twice, on his way to the moving van. He climbed in, drove home. Went on to shower and change his clothes. Then headed for The Thirsty Raven.

  He entered the tavern long past happy hour. The place was packed. He knew everyone, and everyone knew him. Orange and black streamers hung from the rafters. Hinged cutouts of ghosts and skeletons were tacked to the walls. Halloween dogged him like a hellhound.

  He took his reserved seat at one corner of the bar. He winked at Dakota, communicating a request for his usual. A Sea Dog and loaded burger. She passed his order to the fry cook. Brought him his beer.

  Leaning over the counter, she awaited his kiss. A ritual between them for as long as he could remember. Instead of locking lips, he eyed her neck. She wore a V-neck sweater, her skin visible. “Have you gotten a recent cat tattoo?” he asked her.

  She scrunched her nose. “No ink.”

  That eliminated Dakota as the woman in the crystal ball. Then who? he wondered. Time would tell. Or not. He still wasn’t convinced he hadn’t imagined the whole thing. He kissed her lightly, more cheek than mouth. Dakota eased back, surprised, yet smiling.

  “Who is she?” She feigned jealousy.

  “She, who?” He skirted the real issue.

  “The woman you want to kiss more than me.”

  He and Dakota had always been honest. They were friends with benefits. Sex was sex, with no future promises. He took a long pull on his beer, shrugged, “There’s not much to tell.”

  “Too early in the relationship,” she assumed. “You’re getting to know each other.”

  He’d known Grace all his life. He’d always seen her as perfect and standoffish. Today she’d worked as hard as any man. He’d witnessed her kindness to children and her loyalty to Amelia. They shared an attraction. Her kisses turned him on.

  Dakota left him, moving along the bar, mixing cocktails, replenishing beer. Cade noticed she flirted overly long with Josh Hanson, a local carpenter. He’d recently added shelving in the small kitchen and updated paneling behind the bar. He was the strong, silent type. Yet Dakota had him talking. Laughing. Enjoying himself.

  Distracted by Josh, she forgot about Cade’s food order. The fry cook delivered his burger. Wally shook his head at Dakota. “She’s looking to get lathed.” A carpenter pun.

  Dakota was obvious in her intentions. Josh was slow on the uptake. They’d connect eventually, Cade figured. Dakota was persistent. Clearly, she’d chosen her next lover. But then, so had he. He wanted Grace Alden.

  He bit into his burger. The cook awaited his thumbs-up. Cade chewed, swallowed, approved. “Medium-rare. Perfect, dude.”

  The cook snagged him another Sea Dog, on the house, before returning to the kitchen. Cade glanced about the bar between bites. The booths were crammed with single women. Steampunk Gina Avery blew him a kiss. Couples took over the tables. Friends waved, inviting him to join them. He didn’t have much conversation in him. His thoughts were on Grace. Was she still at Rose Cottage or had she gone home for the night? He’d bet she was still working. He might have to swing by the inn later. Make sure she’d eaten dinner and wasn’t overdoing it.

  He decided to drop off a burger and fries, as an excuse for checking on her. Despite the fact that Amelia had a well-stocked kitchen, and Grace could cook whatever she liked. He was being thoughtful. That should earn him points with her.

  He flagged down Dakota, added a second burger to his tab. Then stared into his beer, so lost in thought, he didn’t immediately hear the bone-rattling tapping noise, followed by rubbery fingers touching his hand. He glanced down, started. What the hell?

  Halloween reached out to him in a pair of crawling monster hands. A bar prank. Battery-operated, the undead-colored limbs were severed at the wrist, and walked on their own. Those seated at the bar had leaned back, as Dakota aimed the hands in his direction. She’d gotten him. Good. He rubbed the back of his neck, chuckled along with the crowd.

  The guy beside him turned one hand over and flipped off the switch. The fingers stiffened. Cade stopped the second hand from climbing up his arm. It gave him the willies.

  “Where’d you get the hands?” he asked Dakota when she delivered his take-out order. He didn’t appreciate them, but he knew a party planner who would.

  “Someone left those on the bar last night at closing, clutching a beer mug. Real funny. I know how much you love Halloween,” she said, tongue-in-cheek, “and I wanted to prank you.”

  “I have someone I’d like to prank, too,” he told her.

  Dakota was generous. “Take them. All yours.”

  He finished off his beer, paid his bill, and left a big tip. He balanced the monster hands on the Styrofoam container, and cleared the door in seconds. He was anxious to see Grace.

  * * *

  Grace was eager to wrap up the decorating. She was close to finishing. She rolled her shoulders, shook out her hands. Went on to dim the sconces for atmosphere and effect. She surveyed the living room. Appreciated every little detail.

  She’d added a haunted clock with a skewed view of time to the sideboard buffet. The numbers were on backward and went up to thirteen. On the hour, the hands spun.

  Next to the timepiece was an animated mirror. It showed no real reflection; instead, a ghoulish girl holding a lighted candle appeared. She moaned, blew out the flame, and vanished. Then the mirror went dark. Freaky.

  A five-foot chrome skeleton with
a black top hat sat on the mauve satin settee. His legs were crossed, and one elbow was bent on the armrest. His jaw was set in a gaping smile.

  A faceless specter in tattered fabric set a spindle-back rocking chair in motion. The creak echoed in the silence.

  A battery-operated ghost family cloaked in illuminated layers of flowing white fabric floated on plastic stands near the staircase. They drifted and swayed.

  Six black witches’ brooms leaned against the carved newel post. It appeared their owners had retired upstairs for the night.

  Grace was tired, too. She yawned, and gave in to the lure of the antique sofa and the temptation of closing her eyes. For a few minutes. Just until she caught her second wind. She slipped off her boots. Wiggled her toes in her socks. She breathed in, smelled French fries. Impossible. She swore she heard a noise, a click-clacking, but knew she was alone. She felt something touch her foot. Crawl around her ankle. She reacted, stomping whatever touched her to pulp.

  “You’ve destroyed my monster hands!” The voice held more amusement than accusation. Cade? When had he returned? He hadn’t made his presence known.

  She spun around and found him leaning against the front door. A Styrofoam container in hand. He looked too comfortable. One ankle crossed the other. He twisted the dimmer switch on the wall, and it became daylight bright.

  Grace lowered her gaze, stared at the bent and broken fingers and loose batteries. “Monster hands?” she repeated.

  “You should’ve seen them crawl.” He sounded proud. “Straight across the hardwood, right to you.”

  “They were . . . unexpected.”

  “Scared you, didn’t they?” Her answer seemed important to him.

  “Maybe . . . a little.”

  “A lot, Grace.” He grinned then. “You jumped a foot off the ground. Came down hard on those fingers.”

  “Where did you get them?” She couldn’t imagine him shopping for anything Halloween.

  “The Thirsty Raven. Someone tricked Dakota last night. She got me tonight, and I came after you.”

  “Lucky me.” They were pretty cool. She only wished she’d seen them in action, and hadn’t freaked out. Too late now. She inhaled deeply, asked, “Do I smell French fries?”

  “Fries and a burger. I figured if you were still working, you might be hungry.”

  “You guessed right.” She nodded toward the sunroom, which was free of decorations. “Join me?”

  “If you want company.”

  “I do.”

  She sat on a short wicker sofa, and he joined her. Their shoulders brushed. Their hips bumped. Their thighs aligned. He heightened her awareness. Stimulated her senses. Made her smile.

  She liked to cook, and didn’t eat takeout often. The loaded burger was the best she’d ever tasted. The fries were farmer cut, thick and crisp. She ate with gusto. Not until she was almost finished did she look up to find Cade watching her.

  She wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. Closed the lid on the container. Set it aside. “I really packed it away.”

  “Work hard, eat hearty.”

  She had. She leaned back, patted her stomach, and sighed. “I’m so full.”

  “How full?” He settled his hand over hers on her belly.

  “Gut-busting.” The waistband on her slacks pulled tight.

  His palm centered over her navel. He stretched his fingers. Touching her hip bone. Stroking high on her thigh, then back toward her sex. She tensed. She liked having him touch her, but not here, at her godmother’s bed-and-breakfast.

  He kept things light by saying, “You know what those monster hands were meant for?”

  She was too distracted by the pressure of his palm to answer. She shook her head. She didn’t have a clue.

  “Touching, squeezing . . . tickling.”

  He ran his hand along her side; his fingers prodded lightly, causing her to twitch. Her skin was sensitive. She was crazy ticklish. “Cade . . . no,” she pleaded, serious, until a giggle escaped.

  He grinned, deviously slow. He’d gotten the reaction he sought, and went with it. Both hands now joined in the tickle torture. He soon had her wiggling, squirming, and biting her tongue to control her laughter. She didn’t want Amelia or the guests to hear her. To find her and Cade in the sunroom in a compromising position.

  How had she gotten on his lap? She sat sideways. Her shoulder leaned against his chest. Her bottom sat square on his groin. He was fully aroused. One of his hands ducked under her sweater, his thumb flicked her nipple through her demi-bra. Her legs were spread. His fingers on her inner thigh no longer tickled, they stroked. Sensually slow. The tip of one reached her sex. She was hot for him.

  Control. She drew herself up, swallowed, and met his gaze, jet-dark and dilated. Hot. His skin pulled tight over his prominent cheekbones. His breathing was rough. He wanted her. She wanted him. Unfortunately now was not the time. There’d be no sneaking a quickie on the wicker sofa at Rose Cottage. Uncomfortable, crossed her mind. The idea of getting caught scared her off his thighs. He squeezed her shoulder when she settled back beside him. Then worked his hands into his jean pockets and made a discreet adjustment.

  “You get to me, Grace,” he admitted, his voice husky.

  He got to her, as well. She ran her fingers through her hair, mussed from his tickling and her struggle to get free. She next straightened her sweater. Her breasts felt tender. She secured the top button on her slacks. Her stomach softened. Every place he’d touched her still tingled.

  “Come home with me,” he tempted her.

  She might have agreed, had the decorating been complete. But the sunroom still awaited its own scarecrow, witch, and goblin. She planned to set up a sound system to play scary music. A background of wailing ghosts and cackling witches would add to the mood.

  “Come to Amelia’s party with me,” she said without thinking, and immediately wished she could take back her words. She knew how he felt about Halloween. He’d made it perfectly clear.

  He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “You’re still pushing me, long after I’ve passed on the party. Halloween is you, not me, Grace. Accept it.”

  She could, and she couldn’t. She believed with all her heart if he attended, he’d have fun. She would make sure he did. She’d seen his hands in the crystal ball, of that she was certain. They were symbolic of his place in her life. He’d helped her get ready for the party. Had brought her a burger and fries. He’d tickled her senseless. A part of her wanted to apologize and hold his hand forever. But stubbornness had her saying, “Nothing wrong with compromise.”

  His jaw clenched as he slowly stood. “Nothing wrong with live and let live.”

  Stalemate. She exhaled, deflated, too tired to argue with him further. “We’re done here.”

  “What about our contract? I still owe you a day’s work.”

  “Consider it honored.”

  His gaze hardened, his tone turned flat. “If that’s the way you want it.”

  “That’s the way it needs to be.” She couldn’t face him tomorrow, knowing he wouldn’t participate in the party. No matter how much it meant to her. Her heart, soul, and party-planning skills went into Halloween. That’s who she was.

  She let him go. “See you around.”

  “Around.”

  She listened to his footsteps walking away.

  She heard the door open and click closed.

  The silence in the sunroom had her realizing how alone she was at that moment. And how much she already missed Cade.

  Chapter 5

  Cade and his cousins picked up an odd job the next morning. One not scheduled. They moved a newly married couple from an apartment to their first home. It took them only four hours. He had the afternoon free. Free to do what? He had choices. He could stop by the senior center, pick up a game of horseshoes with the Benson brothers. Lose ten dollars. Play cards. Win it back. Drywall needed to be delivered to Build a Future, the construction site
for single parent housing.

  But when was the last time he’d done something for himself? He thought about working out, going to a movie, stopping to visit his brother. Nothing replaced Grace. She was foremost on his mind. He couldn’t shake her. He’d tried.

  One way or another, he needed to see her again. She meant more to him than his dislike of Halloween. Maybe it was time to man up. He could make things right by wearing a costume and attending the party. His presence would make Grace happy. Wasn’t that his ultimate goal? Her happiness.

  He always had an out, he told himself. Should the party get to him, he could hang with Archibald and Dooley in Amelia’s suite. The cats wouldn’t mind. The Maine coon was wily and wise. He might find it amusing that Cade had compromised.

  His mind made up, he felt an immediate need to see Grace. The feeling hit him hard, hounding him to find her. But where? He hopped in his truck, and cruised by Rose Cottage. The inn looked amazing, all lit up and spooky on this overcast afternoon. Adult guests had already gathered on the cobblestone sidewalk. They were costumed, chatting with each other, claiming their place in line. Cowgirl Kayla hitched her giddy-up to the porch railing. She was ready and waiting for early trick-or-treaters with a smile and trays of marshmallow ghosts.

  Cade craned his neck and scanned the cars in the side lot. No sign of Grace’s minivan. He circled the block and headed downtown. He drove by her shop. Her vehicle was parked in the alley. He drew in behind her, climbed out, and strode around to the front door.

  The long window shade was pulled down. The CLOSED sign faced out. A slim space along one side of the shade allowed him to peer in. The shop lights were dim. No activity, until a slender shadow on the wall shifted and came toward him. Cheryl cracked the door, eyed him. “Costumes are all rented,” she said. “Can I help you otherwise?”

  “I’m looking for Grace.”

  “Is she expecting you?” He sensed that she was stalling him.

  Did he need an appointment? “I only need a minute.”

  She hesitantly moved aside, and let him enter. She was dressed as a flapper, with red boa and swinging fringe. Her expression was serious. “Keep it short. Grace hasn’t been herself today. She’s running late. Charm her, don’t harm her.”