The bookstore was transformed. Twinkling fairy lights hung over the shelves and delicate paper bats fluttered from the rafters. A warm, amber glow spilled from carved pumpkins, their flickering candles casting gentle shadowson the wooden floors. The back corner featured plush, oversized blankets draped across the floor, surrounded by soft cushions. A projector faced a white screen hanging between two bookshelves. The aroma of hot cider filled the air, with mugs of the rich, frothy drink resting nearby on a rustic table alongside plates of freshly baked cookies.
“Frank, this is amazing.” I breathed in the comforting scent of books surrounding me, but despite the perfectness of the scene, I felt uncertain. “I figured you’d take me somewhere with people.”
He paused. “I thought you didn’t like crowds.”
“I don’t.”
“And yet you seem disappointed. We can do something else.”
“No, this is great. This is wonderful,” I rapidly added. It really was.
“Say what you want.”
I looked down, but there was no stopping my heating cheeks. “I guess I just wanted everyone to know that you and I are a thing.”
He raised an eyebrow. “It seemed to me you didn’t care what other people think.”
“AndI told you that everyone cares to a degree. Besides, a girl needs her moment.” Something I’d never had.
His handsome lips curled upward and his eyes sparked. “Mary, Mary, quite contrary.” He shifted, moving past me and sat on the blankets. He reached out a hand to me. “Come here.”
I accepted it and he tugged me down next to him. Then he wrapped his arm around me, pulling out his phone. He turned on the camera and lifted it. “Smile,” he murmured.
A hesitant grin played on my lips as he took the picture. He didn’t remove his arm as he embraced me closer and pulled up his social media, uploading the photo and writing,First date with my amazing girlfriend.
“How’s this?” he asked. “Best of both worlds. Everyone knows, and we don’t have to face the crowds.”
“A perfect compromise.” I reached up and pressed the share button.
“Now, should we watch our movie?” He handed me a mug of cider with pumpkin spice.
“Yes, let's.”
He rose to get the projector going. Then he returned, and we snuggled close together in the warmblankets while we watched an old, heartwarming Halloween movie—one of those classic films with the right balance of spooky and sweet. Duchess nestled between our legs. The flickering candlelight cast gentle shadows. After the movie ended, we discussed our favorite spooky stories we’d read as children.
When I checked my phone, it was well past 1:00 a.m. Time had sped by without either of us knowing. “I ought to head home.” I rose and looked around. “Do you need help cleaning?”
“Nah, I’ll come back before they open and make sure it’s clean. Don’t worry about it.”
We moved out into the chilly night, and I tugged my coat tight. Frank pulled me close and his lips descended to mine. The kiss was soft at first, tender and slow, like the gentle brushing of two hearts finally meeting. Time slowed, the warmth of the occasion wrapping me in a cocoon of comfort. Fingers gently tangled in hair, and for a fleeting moment, everything remained still—no rush, no need to move forward, only the intimacy of two souls in perfect harmony. The space between us felt electric, charged with something unspoken, as if the kiss was notsimply a joining of lips, but a promise, an instant held forever in the surrounding stillness. Just me and Frank.
He took me by the hand and we walked on under the dim streetlights, the crispness of the fall air enveloping us in a quiet, comfortable peace.
Chapter 12
Overthenextcoupleof days, I walked to the church trying to figure out what I’d missed in finding Isabella’s killer, all the while ducking the exclamations and stares of the townspeople who’d seen Frank’s post on social media—I was now regretting that. I had to recount how we’d met after my mom and each of my sisters either hunted me down or called. Mom was the one least able to believe I would date someone like Frank Churchill, but I’d finally convinced her, then she’d expressed her usual enthusiasm. It had been exhausting. I wanted people to know but not talk to me about it.
On day eleven of my potion making, I walked to the church with an extra nervousness in my step. I’d eliminated all my suspects, leaving only Lydia and Frank. But of course it was neither of them. It couldn’t be. Could a different werewolf be responsible? But I was no closer to finding any of them.
Not to mention, today I’d find out if I made the wolfsbane potion correctly.
Before I entered the church, I saw Marge walking toward the cemetery, though she didn’t have any flowers this time. I caught her eye, and she waved. I smiled and waved in return. But instead of heading for the grave, she angled toward me. I suppose that meant we were going to have a conversation.
“Hello! How are you, dear? Had any lovely seances with the dead of late?” She shifted, and underneath her coat I made out an image of a skeleton and the wordsBone to be Wild.
“Oh.” I glanced around. I didn’t want anything about me speaking to the deceased getting out. “Umm… no?”
“Well, that’s too bad. I’m here to make certain Johnny doesn’t forget about me, especially now that he has sucha lovely visitor.” She winked at me. “But he has one of the nicest resting places in Austen Heights. Cost a pretty penny, too. I hope he appreciates it.” She glared at the cemetery like she could hear Johnny complaining.
