“It’s Halloween, darling,” I say with a laugh and a dramatic flourish. “How could I be feeling anything but positivelyghoulish?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
DEVLIN
The Wayward Bay Town Hall is only a few blocks away, and we take it on foot, happily dodging even more goblin-face children who are as eager for candy as my own party guests are for their multi-colored pills, and now I understand how it all begins, peanut butter cups being the obvious gateway drug.
Inside, the rotunda has been transformed into a veritable All Hallow’s Eve extravaganza, vendors showcasing their wears, children and adults alike begging for candy at every turn, the Pumpkinville Pumpkin Spice Brigade once again doing their civic duty in vomiting up every sort of fall decoration imaginable. Pumpkins and ghosts. Bats and spiders. Cottony cobwebs and spooky flashing lights. Yet somehow, on this night, it all seems to work.
Arm-in-arm, my fairytale princess and I follow the tide of costumed witches and comic book heroes and zombies, from the ring-toss booth to the hot cider booth to the mulled wine booth—much better, that’s more like it. Then, past all the snacks and kids’ games, we spot a booth where you can paint your own mugs, which Violet is excited to try.
“Glaze for Days is right behind Kettle and Cauldron,” she says. “I’ve never even been in there. Should we give it a go?”
“I’ll paint one for you if you paint one for me.”
“Deal.” She beams at me, eyes sparkling behind the glasses. “But no peeking. I want mine to be a surprise.”
The proprietress—Ricci, if the name tag pinned to her black cat costume is anything to go by—hands us each an unglazed white mug and a small kit of paints and brushes, gesturing for us to take a seat at one of several hightop tables set up for this purpose. “Bring the mugs up front when you’re done. I’ll be firing them back at the shop—you can pick them up in a few days.”
“Thank you,” Violet says. “I’ve been wanting to try this place forever!”
“You’re Violet, aren’t you?” Ricci asks. “From Kettle and Cauldron? I’m so sorry I haven’t gotten a chance to pop in yet.”
“No worries.” Violet laughs. “I was just telling my friend Devlin the same thing—I’ve been meaning to check out your studio for ages, but I hardly ever leave my shop.”
“Story of my life.”
I shake the woman’s hand, compliment the costume. “Nice to get out from behind the counter for a change, is it not?”
“I’ve got one more hour at the booth, then I’m putting on my dancing shoes.” Ricci laughs, her cat whiskers wiggling. “Oh! Speaking of being an absolute workaholic… Violet, did you hear about the small business grant thing?”
Violet’s eyes light up. “Grant thing?”
“Apparently, the town council is trying to give local businesses a boost, so they’re starting up this whole Keep the Bay Beautiful for Business push. I heard Mayor Singh rehearsing her speech in the coat room—I guess she’ll be announcing it tonight.”
“Well, now that thecat’sout of the bag,” another woman says, coming up behind the cat in question. “I suppose I can let you girls in on the secret.”
“Mayor Singh!” Violet leans in for a quick hug. “You look stunning!”
“Oh, this old thing?” The woman, dressed like some sort of pumpkin queen, complete with tiara and scepter, fluffs her hair and smiles. “It all came together kind of last minute. Anyway, as Ricci said, we’ll be announcing more details later, but we’re teaming up with Remington Capital to award five grants to local businesses. $75,000 each! So keep an ear out, ladies. I’m expecting youbothto apply.”
The mayor bestows blessings upon their heads with her scepter, then anoints me as well, her eyes roving me head to toe, lingering on the legs. Perhaps I should’ve worn stockings. Alas…
“Sir, can I just say,” she just says. “Iloveyour costume! You know we celebrate all walks of life here. And love, in all its many forms. Good for you for speaking your personal truth! Brave and handsome. I’m just tickled.”
“Is she… hitting on me?” I whisper out of the corner of my mouth to Violet.
“No, she’s just… pontificating. She does that.”
The mayor continues oohing and ahhing, posing for a few selfies with Violet and Ricci, then one with me and my legs, before finally leaving us to paint our mugs in peace.
I keep my word and avoid spying on Violet’s work-in-progress, but I can’t avoid spying on the mushroom herself, the way her nose scrunches up as she concentrates on the painting, the flush in her cheeks, her dark waves spilling over her shoulders.
Demon’s balls, what I wouldn’t give to kiss those shoulders. To press my lips to that soft, warm skin. To taste her. To peel off that dress and—
“Hey!” She looks up, catching me in the act. “We said no peeking!”
“I didn’t see a thing. I swear.”
