Page 3 of A Hexcellent Chance to Fall in Love

Until the Store Closes

Pepper

At Patty’s Pancake Parlor, I gorged myself on perfect pumpkin-pecan pancakes with cinnamon and bourbon maple syrup, and then slowly made my way back to the store, trying to take in as much of the town as I could along the way.

It always amazed me how much the trees seemed to grow year after year but many of the buildings and the people stayed the same.

How did those Keepers in big cities do it?

Places where things changed so rapidly, and people were constantly moving around.

At least here there was still a lot of stability from season to season.

Tina’s Hair Salon was still painted bright pink with a flower box under its large picture window.

The cow statue still stood on the corner outside the local supermarket.

And Simply Stationery seemed to be under new ownership, with a new name—Classy Quill.

I couldn’t wait to check it out, but there would be plenty of time to explore later.

Part of my “job” was giving off the illusion that I was part of the team, so this meant actually working and putting in some face time with customers when all I really wanted to do was basically anything else.

Not that the job or the people were terrible or anything; just with limited time, there were a million other things to do.

I grabbed a caramel apple cider on my way back and savored it until it turned cold while I puttered around the store, trying to look busy.

“Okay, who left the body in aisle five?” Dewy walked toward the front registers dragging a mannequin by the leg and a Caution Wet Floor sign.

Caleb raced forward and took the body from them.

“I was coming back for it. That’s why I left the sign, but I got sidetracked.

” Meaning he decided to help Molly with some of the inventory he hated doing instead of taking care of his cleanup duties—which, to be fair, also wasn’t his favorite, but he preferred it over anything with counting.

Not that I could blame the kid. Molly was a sweet girl, they were close in age, and they were both interested in the film industry.

“Sign or not, it’s a tripping hazard,” Dewy scolded. “Where did this come from anyway?”

“I found it in the back. And I was thinking, there’s that space between yard decorations and the”—he cleared his throat—“adult section that was looking kind of bare. I thought I could set something up. I probably should’ve asked first, though.”

Dewy glanced at me, and I raised my eyebrows in response. “That’s taking some good initiative,” they said. “It would be best to run your ideas by management first, but I like the enthusiasm.”

“Really?” Caleb asked as he hoisted the mannequin over his shoulder.

“Really,” Dewy confirmed. “If you want, I have a moment now. We can discuss it.”

“Sure, that’d be great.” Caleb nodded.

“Some not-so-great news, though,” Dewy continued. “Our newbie is a no-show, so we’ll be one person down this afternoon.”

“That’s boosheet,” Lisa said, and she swooped her black hair up and under a bubblegum pink wig for her shift. Ever since she was reprimanded for swearing within earshot of customers a few seasons ago, she’d gotten creative.

Dewy let out a deep breath. “It’s not ideal, but we can manage, right, team?”

“Yes!” Caleb enthusiastically answered.

“We’ll be fine,” I said. First day and already a no-show; this was going to be an interesting season.

As Dewy and Caleb scampered away, I pulled some more receipt paper from the register and kept doodling.

There’d been a steady stream of customers, but Lisa had everything under control, so I used my time to make a list of all the things I wanted to do in the next seventy days.

Then I listed all the places I wanted to eat—which was just as important—and when I was done with that, I started to draw—not that I was any good at it—to pass the time until I could officially leave for the day and check some things off my new lists.

Ah. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. The cackling witch—the trademark sound of The Dead of Night no matter where the store was located—sounded at the front door as a group of teens pushed their way inside.

They were loud and rowdy the way teenagers were.

One ducked behind another at the sight of dancing skeletons that greeted people when they entered.

Theater kids. I smiled. It was always easy to pick them out of a crowd; they had a way of making everything overdramatic, and I loved them for it.

It was one of the things I missed most from my life before.

Teaching theater at Clover Creek had been my dream job—one I never would’ve left by choice.

The kids were always the thing that made every workday better.

Their creativity and enthusiasm were contagious.

There was nothing like the buzz that energized a cast from curtain up and lasted longer than the final curtain call.

Planning and running the town haunted house was a bonus.

Even before all of this, Halloween had been my favorite holiday, and there was nothing more invigorating than a good jump scare.

Seeing them now also reminded me that I could officially leave for the day and not feel guilty about it.

“Caleb’s got some good ideas,” Dewy said, pulling me out of my head and back into the store. When I didn’t respond, they said, “His plan for near the back.”

“Yeah, right,” I said.

“It’s pretty elaborate, but I think it’s going to make an impact.”

“We seem to be good up here. Why don’t I see how I can help him before I take off for the day,” I told them before crinkling up the receipt paper I’d doodled all over and shoving it in my pocket—it looked like Caleb also forgot to bring the trashcans back up front.

“That’d be great. I’ve gotta shift the schedule around now, it seems.” Dewy rolled their eyes.

The no-show, right. Yeah. I was glad I didn’t have to do any of that work. Setting up a display wasn’t as satisfying as putting together the annual haunted house, but it was at least something I enjoyed.

I turned down aisle five to make my way toward the back of the store when I slammed into someone.

The woman stumbled backward, fumbling the package in her hand.

Her crisp black shirt and slacks screamed banker or executive of some kind.

Her hair hung just below her ears and was so blonde, it was almost white.

Aside from the red lipstick that was carefully applied over full, pouty lips, she looked like she was ready to attend a funeral or a board meeting more than go on a shopping excursion—but it ironically was very Halloween appropriate. “I’m so sorry,” I said.

“No, it’s my fault. I wasn’t looking. My kids…Well, not my kids, I don’t have any kids, but I’m a teacher, right? So my students are here and…” She glanced at the pumpkin-spice-flavored lube in her hand, and her face flushed to the color of her lips.

“And this isn’t a product you are wanting to purchase,” I finished for her.

“No, it’s not. Not that there’s anything wrong with it or anything, I actually really like pumpkin spice, even though an ex-girlfriend said it made me basic, but whatever, I just don’t need it.

” Her ears turned red, too, which was just adorable.

“You didn’t need to know all of that about me. I’ll shut up now.”

I held out my hand. “I can take care of it for you if you’d like.”

“Yes, please.” She handed it to me. “You don’t sell shovels, do you?” She laughed nervously.

“Not functional ones, but on aisle three—”

“No.” She shook her head. “It was a joke. Like I should probably just dig a hole in the ground and crawl inside…Never mind.” Her cheeks got red again, and she glanced at the ground.

“That’s funny,” I said.

She lifted her head, her brown eyes locking with mine, and my heartbeat tripped over itself. “You’re just being nice.”

“Maybe.” I smiled.

She smiled back.

Then we both started laughing.

She rested her hand on a cart full of plastic pumpkins and fairy lights and a bale of faux hay. Did Caleb leave this here when he forgot his mannequin? What was this plan of his? “I’m not usually this awkward,” she said. “I’m just a little out of my element.”

“Oh, this cart is yours.” My voice sounded as surprised as I was.

“I’m getting stuff for the haunted house.”

The haunted house. In this town there was only one.

“Wait. You’re the theater teacher at Clover Creek?

” The last few years it had been Harold Wetherby—a bald guy who wore suspenders and insisted people call him Dr.W.

Granted, he was a little overly enthusiastic about almost everything, but it was kind of sweet. What happened to him?

“I am.” She scrunched her brow. “I guess that’s common knowledge around these parts.”

Shit. Being a local no one knew was really hard to explain, which was why I normally didn’t fuck up this badly. “They mentioned it in a meeting. Said to be on the lookout and to help however we can.”

“Oh, thank god.” She let out a breath. “I’ve never done anything like this before. I actually don’t really like Halloween that much, so I’m in a little over my head.”

I held up a hand. “I’m sorry. You don’t like Halloween?” How had this woman gotten the job, doing the most important event in Clover Creek, when she didn’t even like Halloween?

“It’s just never been my thing.” She shrugged.

I glanced at her and all the random items she had picked up, and I pinched my lips together. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that and help you out.” I took the cart and pushed it into the main aisle to get it out of the way. “First, let’s start over.”

“So no pumpkin-spice lube, then?” She smiled.

“The candy apple flavor is much better,” I said, and those cheeks of hers flared red once again. Did they feel as hot as they looked? Instead of reaching out to touch one—which would’ve been completely inappropriate; what the hell was I thinking?—I said, “Come on. I got you.”