Stephanie heads this way and snorts. “Rumor has it, the library is closed. I’d say get a room, but the stacks are closer.”
“Rumor has it, the library is haunted,” I counter while making crazy eyes at my sister and she gasps.
“Thanks for the supernatural heads-up.” She gives a frenetic nod. “I’ll steer clear. Mud’s taking a break and we’re headed to the midway out back. He’s going to try to win me that annoying large hot pink elephant by knocking all the cans off the table. I think it’ll look great in the corner of our living room.” She gives my cheek a hard pinch. “I’d say join me, but I think you kids got better things to do.”
She takes off, and I shrug up at Shep.
“I don’t think I’m ever getting rid of her or her soon-to-be hot pink elephant. Normally, I’d be thrilled to have her stay with me, but I can’t help but feel my sister is a lit fuse that will lead the feds, or worse yet, the Morettis straight to Starry Falls.”
“How’s your head?” He inspects my forehead with a stern look. “I saw you holding it.”
“Oh, it’s fine. I was just—the music…” I point to the ballroom. “It was starting to grate on me. In fact, I was just about to step outside.” I bite down hard on my lower lip. “To get some fresh air.”
“And to speak to Miggy.”
“How did you know that?”
“I know everything,” he says with just the right amount of smugness to make my stomach bisect with heat.
“Really? Then you know I should be the one speaking to her, all by my lonesome. I’m telling you, Shep, the girl has secrets—not to mention the matching infamous earring. I can get her to confess if I head out there alone.”
His lips twist back and forth as if tempting me to smack them with my own. And, boy, do I plan on it.
“Fine,” he acquiesces with a sigh. “But I’ll be out there, too. Maybe I’ll have my fortune read, see what lies ahead in the future.”
“I wouldn’t believe a word that woman tells you. Most every psychic I meet is nothing but a charlatan, pure and simple. In fact, the only people who really hear from the divine aren’t running around spouting off fortunes for a tip.”
“It sounds like you speak from experience, but I’m just in it to kill time. And keep an eye on you.”
He navigates us to the backyard, and the scent of spiced hot apple cider and sugar cookies hits our senses. There’s a cotton candy stand, and one with caramel apples, and a pumpkin carving station that rivals the one at the Sanderson sisters’ pumpkin patch, albeit that’s where all the pumpkins came from to begin with.
Opal’s backyard is an acre, if it’s not two, and it seems every inch of it is filled with people. Costumes of every shape and size rule the roost, and clearly there is no shortage of men in clown suits. I guess Steph gets to have the pick of the crazy crop tonight.
A fortune-teller sits to the right, dressed in scarves and bangles. Her eyes are rimmed with dark kohl and she’s got on a short pink wig, and hey…
“Shep, I think that’s Opal hovering over that crystal ball.”
He gives a wistful shake of the head. “That would be her. I guess the tips are good.” He nods up ahead where Miggy is helping manage the lines to the games. “Don’t be long.”
“I’d say don’t be fooled by whatever that psychic is about to tell you, but with Opal at the helm there might be a smidge of truth to it.”
We part ways, and I come upon Miggy dressed as an alien in a green latex body suit, complete with a cone-shaped hood with large, dark, almond-shaped eyes sewn onto it.
“Greetings”—I say, holding up a hand—“I come in peace.”
She laughs as she steps away from the crowd.
“I believe that was supposed to be my line,” she teases. “I see you’re a waitress yet again.”
“Hard to believe, but it’s true,” I say, glancing down at my white frilly apron. “I’m saving the big guns for All Hallows’ Evil.”
“Good thinking. I’ve already cycled through every one of my costumes. So much for originality. So what do you think?” She motions to the midway where booths upon booths of every carnival game you can imagine are being enjoyed by the masses.
“As long as my sister doesn’t win a hot pink elephant the size of a Volkswagen Beetle, I think it’s great. I hope you’re up for doing other events with us.”
“Are you kidding?” Her eyes enlarge at the thought. “You bet I will. I owe everything to you. I’ve been uploading pictures to all of my social media accounts all month, and I’ve already got three more events booked out of this. This has been a huge deal for my career. And to think I thought I was going to fade to nothing without Hazel. She really was my right-hand gal.” Her lips press tightly a moment as if she were afraid she was going to let something else glide past them.
“You really miss her.”
An icy breeze whips by and Miggy holds herself, warming her arms with her hands.
“She did do a lot for me. But not as much as some people think.”
I lean in. “What’s that mean?”
She waves it off. “I just let Annabelle crawl under my skin. She actually accused me of stealing Hazel. As if I needed anyone to get me where I am. I worked tirelessly promoting my work on social media. Still do.” She wields the phone in her hand. “Annabelle wanted all the glory and none of the work.” She closes her eyes a moment. “That’s not quite right. Annabelle is a hard worker once she has a job—and her work is immaculate—but she refuses to do any social media advertising.
“She thinks it’s selling out. She says she’s not social. She wanted to do things the old way, and, well, the old way up and left her in the dust. People aren’t going to party supply shops looking for business cards on the back walls. If they need an event planner, they look one up on the internet. They look for references, pictures of your work. Annabelle has an old photo album tucked away somewhere ready to show to prospective clients, but no one has ever seen it because no one knew to ask. I told her a dozen times that she can’t expect something from nothing, but she always came back with if it’s her destiny it would manifest.”
“That’s too bad she wasn’t open to other modes of advertising. Do you think she learned her lesson? I mean, it has to be pretty clear now that she’s lost her business, right?”
“You would think, but she’s pretty big on playing the blame game. She’s what I like to call a finger pointer. Things don’t go right? Find someone else to take the fall. Lord knows it could never be her.”
“It doesn’t sound as if the two of you got along too well.”
“We did in the beginning. We were closer than sisters. But Annabelle, well, she wanted my full attention every day of the week. In the beginning, I was giving it to her, but it was nearly impossible to keep up with all the text messages she was sending. And when I slowed down, she accused me of not having enough time for her now that I was such a big hit in the party-planning scene.” She huffs at the thought. “That’s not true at all. And I felt terrible when she accused me of not being there for her. I told her I gave her my best contacts. I gave her my digital designer’s name. I even let her know who built my website and how to book ads on some of the more popular social media sites.”