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MARISSA
“Trick or treat?” a trio of little monsters asks when I open the door.
From the small cabinet in the entryway, I pick up my black plastic cauldron filled with candies and drop a handful into each of the kids’ baskets. The cauldron is the perfect complement to my pointy hat, white-and-purple stockings, and pointy shoes costume.
“Thank you, witch lady,” the middle kid says, and they’re on their way.
I close the door only for it to ring again a second later. Maybe I should just wait on the threshold until all the little munchkins have gone to bed.
It’s a girl this time. Under the white foundation, straight black hair wig, and dark lips costume, it takes me an extra second to recognize Nora, and for my gaze to snap up to her escort.
John is dressed in a firefighter uniform and smirking. As if scrubs weren’t plaguing enough, now I will have this sexy fireman fantasy to deal with as well.
“Trick or treat?” Nora announces.
“Hi, Nora.” Looking behind her at her dad, I add, “Long way from Bay Ridge.”
“It’s only a few blocks,” John says.
His and my definition of “a few” are not the same.
“So you were casually strolling right to my doorstep?”
“No, we came on purpose,” Nora, the voice of innocence, says. “Dad said I could stay up an extra hour if I didn’t complain about walking all the way here.”
I cross my arms on my chest and raise an eyebrow at Dr. Busted.
With an unapologetic grin, he puts a protective hand on Nora’s shoulders. “We’re still working on discretion. But we’re glad we found you home.”
I ignore the sexy daddy and squat down to be at eye level with Nora. “And I’m glad you came to visit me. You have the best costume.”
“I like yours, too. And I didn’t mind walking. Even if it’s cold, it’s the best night to be out,” Nora says. “Have you been home all night?”
“Yes,” I confirm.
“But that’s too sad. You want to come trick or treating with us?”
I look up at John’s hopeful expression. Say no. Say no. Say no!
“I’m sorry.” I lift the cauldron as an explanation. “But I’m on candy duty. I can’t abandon my station and leave the little ones without sweets.”
I keep my gaze trained on Nora and her little pout of disappointment, ignoring whatever reaction her dad is having.
“What if you left the cauldron on the steps,” she suggests. “Then the kids could help themselves.”
“But what if one takes all the candies and leaves nothing for the others?”
“We can stick a note to the cauldron, only take one, or you’ll be turned into a toad.” Nora makes big, sweet eyes at me. “Please join us.”
I look up at her dad who, hands shoved in his fake uniform pockets, is rolling on the balls of his feet and giving me a satisfied, try-to-say-no-to-that smirk.
I roll my eyes at him. “Why don’t you come inside?” I ask. “Nora, you want to help me make the sign?”
“Yes! I’ll draw the toad, so even little kids who can’t read will get the message.”
I stand up and lead them back into my house. John stays a few steps behind us, conspiratorially whispering, “You’re a good kid, Nora Bora.”
“Does that mean I can get the Barbie pink camper for Christmas?” she asks in response.
