A FEW DAYS AHEAD OF HALLOWEEN IN HAZELTON, VERMONT
KATE MCKENZIE LOOKED out the windows of her cheery cherry-patterned kitchen curtains and watched lace-like snowflakes drift down lazily on the other side of the pane.
Definitely going to be a white Halloween, she thought. Something she was learning to count on since moving to Hazelton, Vermont. As she placed bananas into her eight-year-old twin daughters’ lunches, her energetic tomboy daughter, Samantha, barreled into the room with her coat and backpack slung onto one arm.
“Oh, good, Sam. You’re ready,” Kate said, half-glancing over one shoulder. “Is Suzanne about set to go too?”
“Yeah.” Sam chewed her lip, then asked, “Mom, can witches turn real people into zombies, or just do that to animals?”
“What?” Kate laughed and pushed on the Velcro ends of one insulated bag, sealing up the opening. She turned and faced a solemn faced Samantha. Oops. “Sorry I laughed, honey. I thought you were joking. I think I need a little more information on this zombie thing.”
“Monica says the lady down the road in the turquoise colored house is a witch and can bring animals back from the dead. But all the cats are zombies.”
This wasn’t the first wild story her twins had brought home thanks to this particular facts-challenged classmate. Kate had been meaning to visit the new neighbor, but life had a way of filling every spare minute. Now, she had an even better reason to go and introduce herself. “I think someone told me she fosters rescued cats, honey. How about we drop by her house after school with some of the jack-o-lantern sugar cookies I made last night and introduce ourselves.”
“But Monica says she makes zombies out of the cats. They walk around and don’t see or hear anyone,” Sam persisted, just as her blonde identical twin, Suzanne, walked into the kitchen.
“Are you talking about the cat-witch lady?” Suze asked.
“Yeah.”
“Girls, stop.” Kate handed each a lunch bag and steered them toward the front door, reconsidering her idea about taking the girls to meet the new neighbor. Probably best to pop in alone first and take the girls later after she could reassure them with tangible evidence the woman didn’t turn anything into zombies. At least she hoped the fact she’d come home without being zombiefied would succeed in putting this story to rest. “There are no cat witches. And from what I know from living with our own family’s cat, I believe felines only hear and see what they want to. Probably Monica tried to call one or two of the cats, wanting to pet them, and the animals ignored her.”
At that precise moment, the McKenzie family’s large orange and gold cat wandered into the room, fixing his one good eye on his favorite napping chair. He walked under the table, then disappeared with a leap onto the chair seat.
“But—”
“No, girls,” Kate pointed to their coats and ushered the twins toward the front of the house. “Suit up with those jackets and stick your lunches in your backpacks. Meg and the boys are taking you to school today. I’ll check out the new neighbor this afternoon and give a full report when I pick you up. And in the meantime, stop believing everything Monica tells you.” She opened the front door and crossed her arms in defense to the October blast of frigid air.
Meg’s silver Camry had just pulled up to the front curb, and Kate herded the girls across the lawn. As the twins crawled into the backseat with Ben, the youngest Berman boy, Meg lowered the passenger side window. She leaned across her older son, Mark, to say, “I have one stop after carpool, then I’ll be back to help with the Dawson estimate. Okay?”
“Terrific,” Kate said, hunched over to see into the car and try to escape some of the wind. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you want to come in the back door.”
Everyone waved as the car circled the cul de sac and headed out of the small housing addition. Kate hurried into the house.
* * *
ABOUT FORTY-FIVE MINUTES later, she had relocated the cat to his quilted bed in the living room corner and was setting pads and pens on the table, getting ready for Meg’s return. The back door burst open, and her neighbor and a good amount of snow blew into the kitchen.
“Oh, my gosh, it’s cold out there,” Meg said, hanging what looked like several black plastic clothing bags on a coat hook near the door. She brushed snow from her shoulder length auburn curls with one hand and waved at the bags with the other. “I picked up our costumes after I dropped off the kids. Have you convinced Keith to be Batman for the school carnival?”
Kate nodded. A costume and party shop recently moved into a small space in downtown Hazelton. Once the women realized the costume shop was open for business, they felt it was their civic duty as good Hazelton citizens to throw support the new merchant’s way. And since the nicknames they used for each other were Batgirl and Wonder Woman, they decided to use the superheroine theme for their Halloween costumes. The merchant was happy to oblige, placing an order and making sure the right outfits in the right sizes would be ready by the holiday.
Later the same afternoon, when they signed up themselves and their husbands to help with the fall school carnival, one requirement was everyone must come in costume. Kate and Meg returned to the store and ordered gender matching costumes for their husbands. They had been anxiously waiting for the rentals to arrive, to be sure they had everything they needed.
“Keith agreed as long as I let him wear a utility belt,” Kate said. “I don’t even want to think about what crazy things he’ll carry in it, but he found one online and has reminded me for days to watch for it. I received an email this morning saying it arrives tomorrow, so help me keep an eye out for the UPS guy.”
“It’s coming just in time.”
“Right.” Kate pulled down mugs for coffee, then asked, “What about Gil? Is he looking forward to being Superman?”
Meg laughed. “Not a chance. He suggested the Clark Kent persona instead. I think the idea of standing next to Keith in a superhero costume has him feeling a little physically inferior.”
Gil Berman was a tall, lanky journalist for the Bennington newspaper, and spent most of his time sitting at a desk writing or chasing after sources for a quote. Keith McKenzie also spent most of his day in a chair behind the microphone of the town’s all-sports radio station as on-air personality, but he was an ex-NHL goalie.
“Tell Gil if Keith wasn’t coaching Sam in speed skating, his only workout each week would be changing the television channel from ESPN1 to ESPN2,” Kate said.
“No matter.” Meg paged through the hanging costumes until she reached the next to the last one and unhooked the bag to move it onto the top. Then she unzipped the bag and pulled out a large fleshy colored piece of foam. “I paid extra to rent Gil six-pack abs. I’m a little psychic that way.”
Sure enough, she held what looked like the front of a man’s chest with well-defined abs and pecs.
“You think he’ll go for it? He won’t be offended?”
“Nah.” Meg shoved it into the bag and rezipped everything. “He doesn’t have to wear it if he doesn’t want to, but I can guarantee you he will. Like teenaged girls with padded and pushup bras, skinny guys really want to look like they have more than they have. They don’t realize brains are the new sexy. Just tell him he looks terrific when you see him, and I’ll bet you anything he preens. It’s like magic.”
“Will do.”
Kate handed over one of the mugs and motioned toward the table. After they took chairs on either side, she said, “Speaking of magic.” Then she related the story the girls told earlier about the rumor circulating through Hazelton Elementary. She crossed her arms and frowned. “I feel terrible that I haven’t been by the new neighbor’s house yet to say hello and welcome her to our area.”
“You and me both,” Meg agreed, taking a sip of coffee before continuing. “Let’s get the planning out of the way for the Dawson job, then we can go by and see if she wants some company. Or at least stop and say hi. I don’t have to get Mother to her appointment until two o’clock, and by then you’ll need to head out to get in line and pick up the kids anyway.”
Meg’s mom had been seeing a succession of doctors since her energy began flagging in late summer.
“Who’s she seeing today?” Kate asked and waved to chairs at the table.
“An allergist, and Mother just hates the idea,” Meg said, laughing. “Says she’s never had an allergy in her life and doesn’t plan to start one. Sounds just like her, doesn’t it? But the nutritionist said in this case it would be a good first step before a meal plan was developed. I really hope a new diet helps.”
Kate reached across the table and patted her hand. “Every time they’ve run a serious medical test it’s come up negative. Keep the faith and remember your mother is a fighter.”
“Don’t I know it.” Meg gave a shaky chuckle, then grabbed a pen and pad from the end of the table. “So, how about we get working and I can think about something else? Where do we start? You want to make opening lists while I concoct the job estimate for organizing the Dawson’s garage?”
“Yes, I always get queasy when I charge for services. You’re much better at it.”
“I know what we’re worth, and I’m not afraid to ask for it.” Meg winked.
“I do wonder how much Mr. Dawson is going to love this surprise garage overhaul Mrs. Dawson is hiring us to do for his birthday,” Kate said. “Men can be pretty territorial about their garages.”
“Never fear.” Meg was already jotting down numbers. “We’ll make sure we get the check cashed immediately. Before he has a chance to stop payment.”
“Mrs. Dawson said Mr. Dawson is set to retire the middle of next year. I’m wondering if he’ll see this garage organization project as a view into his future.”
“They’ve been married about forty years,” Meg said and chuckled again. “It’s kind of late for him to have false illusions at this late date.”
