Page 7 of His Haunted Desire

The bell in the shop rings right on cue. I walk up the stairs and into the apartment. Grandma is on the pull-out bed, reluctantly watching TV. I’ve never seen someone so angry at having to rest and recover, but it’s what the doctor ordered, so it’s what she’s going to do.

“If anything is wrong, you press that button. Even if nothing’s wrong and you just need me, press the button. Nothing is too big or too small, okay?”

She folds her arms and stares at the TV, which is switched off.

“And stop pouting,” I chastise her.

“There is a plethora of silliness in this situation; I would just like to inform you of that.”

“Noted.”

“It is absolutely and unforgivably obscene.”

I kneel next to her bed. “Look at me, Grandma.”

She swallows and turns to me.

“You need to accept that you’re not going to be able to tough through this. The doctor said you need to reduce stress. You’re risking another stroke otherwise. I know this isn’t how you want things to be, but it’s how they are, okay? Meet me halfway.”

“I’ll try,” she says quietly, fidgeting with her hands.

“Please. That’s all I ask. And don’t be proud with that button. You press it anytime you need me.”

“If you need me, you be honest too,” Grandma requests. “There’s a lot to be done today. A full appointment book. Lots of costumes. The people of Cedar Rock rely on us.”

“Are you forgetting who you’re talking to?” I say with a smirk. “I’m a student at FIT, remember. The best of the best.”

“You say that with irony, but it’s true. Youarethe best.”

“Okay, I’m going to get started. Love you. And…”

“Press the button. I know!”

I head downstairs, leaving the door to the apartment open, and turn the closed sign around. The storm has gone, leaving Main Street blanketed in a shining sheen. The Johnsons arrive first, two little boys aged seven and nine with their mother in tow.

“Hello, Mrs. Johnson,” I say when she walks into the shop.

The boys immediately start running around the room, looking up at the costumes hanging from the walls: vampire and werewolf and comic book characters, all expertly designed and made by me and Grandma.

“Oh, hi, Aurora,” Mrs. Johnson says. “I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“Grandma has had some medical trouble. I hope I’ll do?”

She grins, her kind green eyes sparkling. I’ve known her since I was a girl, like many people in Cedar Rock. “Our very own fashionista. I think we can live with that. Right, boys?”

The Johnson boys look at me with big grins, which match their mother’s.

“I’ve got their costumes here,” I say. “I just need to make some adjustments to the cape, collar, and the pants for the scarecrow. Boys, do you think you can stay still long enough for that?”

“Better chance at getting them to do rocket science,” Mrs. Johnson jokes.

I laugh. “What if it’s a challenge, huh? Who can stay the stillest the longest?”

They both immediately freeze.

“Let me get the costumes on first,” I say, chuckling.

The work is a breeze, except the entire time, I’m waiting for the bell to ring. I have to pray Grandma won’t be too proud to press the button.