Corinthia turned on the front porch light to indicate she was open for the night’s business, feeling strangely aware of the dark forest behind her home, beyond the back fence.Even in the warmth and light of the kitchen Corinthia felt the shades of long-lost trees rising from the cold sand below the foundation.
There was a knock at the door.
“Candy!”cried Corinthia, straightening her sweater and dashing to the table for the candy bowl.Beaufort perked up, his tail whipping nearly in circles with all the excitement, and followed Corinthia to the door.“Beaufort, stay,” Corinthia said, raising a warning finger.The dog barked once, out of sheer elation, then settled into a sit.
Corinthia opened the door.
“Trick-or-treat!”A handful of children waved pillowcases and pumpkin buckets at her while their parents hung back in the driveway, watching proudly.
“Oh, my,” Corinthia said, marveling at their costumes as she dropped exactly two pieces of candy in each bag or bucket.She could identify almost every character from a comic or TV or the movies, because they had all been made into picture books or graphic novels, and therefore had passed through her hands at the circulation desk a thousand times.
“Thank you!”they chorused, after being reminded by their parents.
Beaufort, unwilling to be left out, bayed the hound version ofYou’re welcome: AWRH-roo AWRH-roo AWRH-roo.
Corinthia waved goodbye and closed the door, feeling very civic.Beaufort ran to the living room window and watched the children go.
They repeated this routine until the hour was reached when, by an unspoken agreement of unknown origin, each of the neighbors began to turn off their front porch lights.Corinthia popped a miniature chocolate bar into her mouth and went to do the same.
When her fingers landed on the switch, another knock came at the door.
It would have been rude to switch off the light while someone was standing on the doorstep, so Corinthia drew back her hand, hastily swallowed the chocolate, and opened the door.
4
There,onthefrontporch, stood Rosemary.Earlier that day, she had been wearing a fluttery blue and silver-gray dress, topped with a jeweled headpiece.Now she wore an elegant jumpsuit of the same material, a silky ombre of blue blended into silver-gray, cinched at the waist with a jeweled buckle.
Had she changed her entire outfit since the morning?If it had not been Halloween, Corinthia would have thought it extremely odd.It was almost like one of those as-seen-on-TV products she’d seen as a child: the traveling wardrobe, made of a handful of pieces that could be reversed, rearranged, or re-tied to create a dozen different outfits.
Corinthia hastily wiped her lips with the back of her hand, hoping to catch any remaining chocolate.“Hello… Rosemary, was it?”Corinthia knew the woman’s name—would never have forgotten it as long as she lived, not even as an old, white-haired lady tucked under an afghan—but clung to a falsehood of unconcern like it was any protection at all against the fine, root-like filaments of tender feelings that were beginning to lace themselves into her heart.
Rosemary was beaming.“And you’re Corinthia!”
“That’s me,” Corinthia admitted.An awkward silence stretched between them like caramel in a Halloween candy.This was the first time she had had a library patron show up at her home, and Corinthia didn’t know whether to offer her a treat, like any other trick-or-treater; or invite her in; or simply shut the door in utter confusion—but Beaufort, who had been sitting a few feet back from the door, seized the moment and rushed forward.
He bounded past Corinthia and began sniffing around Rosemary’s feet like he’d never sniffed such a fascinating person in his life.
“Beaufort!Get back here this instant,” Corinthia said.
Beaufort did not, in fact, get back there that instant.He galloped in circles around Rosemary’s ankles, stopping for a moment to sniff, and then taking off again, leading Corinthia round and round in a merry chase around the visitor.
Rosemary, for her part, ended up turning and turning to follow the action, and as a consequence the visitor and the librarian blundered into each other as the dog hopped out of the way, delighted at the fuss.
“Oh!”Rosemary cried, more in surprise than hurt.
“I amsosorry,” Corinthia said, steadying Rosemary before dodging quickly to scoop up Beaufort, the trouble-causing hound.
Beaufort didn’t make it easy, either, in that magical way he had of suddenly becoming twice as heavy.“Come along, you recalcitrant beast,” she said to the dog.To Rosemary, she said, “Would you like to come inside?”because she felt a duty to make up for Beaufort’s forwardness.“Please,” she added.“Come in.”
Rosemary’s smile returned, and she glided over the threshold.
Corinthia, still holding the weighty dog, shut the door with her foot.
“Candy!”Rosemary cried, sweeping over to the bowl.She snagged a miniature chocolate bar, unwrapped it, and stuffed it neatly into her mouth like it was a piece of the finest sushi.
And what, Corinthia wondered, was the proper procedure when a visiting patron began helping herself to Halloween candy?
Beaufort’s tongue lolled as he tilted his head to look at Rosemary quizzically, as if he, too, was trying to figure it out.
