Page 3 of Grave Expectations

“Sorry,” Roz said, her face warming as she turned to leave, passing several other animals that turned to watch her go with interest.

“Well, one errand down,” Roz told Albie. They continued down the street. Roz waved to the townspeople she recognized. Most pretended not to see her, others gave a brief lift of their hand before crossing the street.

“Wait here,” Roz told Albie before pushing open the door to the diner. “If you’re good, I’ll give you a snack.” Albie cocked his head at the familiar word, sitting with such force there was an audible thump.

The diner was crowded with the early dinner crowd, with only one empty seat at the bar. Roz plopped into it, trying to catch the waitresses’ attention. The man next to Roz opened his mouth to say something, his jaw snapping shut when he saw her.

“I was just about to leave,” he said quickly.

“Oh, I’m just picking up an order, I shouldn’t be long,” Roz told him with a beaming smile.

“Right,” the man said, scooting his chair away from her.

“Here ya go,” the waitress said, plopping down a plastic bag in front of Roz. She opened it and inhaled the scent, groaning.

“These smell amazing,” she said.

“Fresh-baked this afternoon,” the waitress said, stepping back so she stood just out of Roz’s reach. Roz pulled several bills from her purse and set them on the counter.

“Thanks,” Roz said, collecting her things and leaving the diner.

Albie sat just where she left him, watching her expectantly. “Alright,” she said, pulling one of the fresh rolls from the bag. It steamed in the cool air. Roz broke it in half and fed Albie a piece, taking the other half for herself. She licked the butter from her fingers and sighed.

“One last stop,” she told Albie, heading back toward the cemetery to the large house that sat on the outskirts. She knocked a few times, waiting for one of the four women that lived there to answer. Rather than leave it at the door to get eaten by raccoons, she left a note.

To my beloved twin and her broommates,

Fresh rolls at mi casa. Don’t make me eat them all.

Love,

Roz

She turned to the cemetery, making one final round before closing it up for the night.

A lone figure stood over a grave, speaking softly to the stone. Roz gave him space, taking two more turns around the cemetery before she approached him.

“Rowen? It’s closing time,” she said, offering a half-smile. The man jumped, his wide eyes settling on Roz.

“Oh, sorry,” he said quickly.

“Hey, it’s no biggie. Want a roll?” she asked, reaching into the bag and extending one to him.

“I have something sweeter at home,” he said, and she swore she saw a blush creep over his face before he turned away from the grave.

“Alright, safe travels!” she called after him, closing and locking the gate. She trudged across the cemetery, passing Alaric’s grave on the way to her house.

“Another fine day in Pumpkin Hollow,” she told him, patting the base of the statue. “I should be used to it, but it stings, you know? It’s always ‘Avoid the necromancer even her family doesn’t like’ and never ‘Hey Roz, thanks for settling my grandma last week!’ or ‘Roz, wonderful job keeping the graves clean, I’m sure my ancestors approve!’

“Ignore me, this time of the year is weird. The Halloween festival is just around the corner, and I have no one to go with. Yes, I know I can go with Delia, but I don’t want to be a…fifth wheel? Whatever. I’ll just go alone. Again.”

She looked up at the handsome face of the founder, sighing. “Totally first-world problems. My entire line would be dead if it weren’t for you. Don’t think I’m some ungrateful whippersnapper,” she said, pointing finger guns at him. “I am. I’m just…” she trailed off, then shook her head.

“Night, Alaric,” she said, turning to her cottage.

The breeze tickled her hair and pulled her scarf free, and for a moment she thought she heard “Goodnight, Roz.”

But it was just the breeze.