Author: Molly Harper
Category: Humorous
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/molly-harper/page,18,38521-aint_she_a_peach_.html
“Fine,” she said. “But just so you know, twenty-four hours only gives me like six or seven costume options, all of them the sexy version of somethin’.”
“I would really love to sit here and listen to you list each and every one of those costumes.”
“Too soon,” she told him, shaking her head.
Eric snorted, and continued, “But I just want to be clear, in order to ensure that the Lewises won’t accuse you of doin’ something stupid and/or terrible, you can’t do anything stupid and/or terrible.”
“I won’t do anything stupid or terrible,” she promised in a dead, disinterested tone.
“You’re going to have to practice it a few more times before I believe it.”
“Will you at least stop by the funeral home to check on things at some point during the night? Even if Jared appears to be holding a Bible study in a very public place with witnesses?”
“Frankie.”
“He has minions who could carry out his evil bidding for him!”
“Has anyone ever told you that your persistence borders on a serious character flaw?”
Frankie grinned. “Every damn day.”
“All right, all right.” He sighed. “To make you happy, I will stop by the funeral home tomorrow night. But only after I see you spend a good portion of the evening at the Trunk-R-Treat.”
“Fine.”
“And maybe later, you can try on some of those costume options for me.”
“Still a little too soon,” she told him.
“But we’re okay, right?” he asked, nodding in the direction of the jail cells. “With everything?”
“I’m not sure. Last night was pretty unprecedented in terms of, well, everything. I will let you know when I’m ready to talk about it or anything else related to last night.”
“Fair enough,” he said as she stood. He escorted her to the main office and spotted Janey’s bag from the Snack Shack. “Hey, why does Janey get breakfast?”
“She didn’t arrest me last night.”
“I knew you weren’t going to let that go.”
“Yeah, I’m funny that way.”
“Will you at least share the hash browns?” Eric asked Janey.
“Hell no!”
FRANKIE DROPPED TUBES of Life Savers into the bags of a Hulk, a (nonbloody) vampire, and a knight.
“Thank you!” they cried before darting to the next car. Frankie grinned, the fluffy tulle skirt of her costume billowing in the cool autumn breeze. The sun had set and the air smelled of spicy chili and novelty glitter hairspray. The Trunk-R-Treat was in full swing, and the McCready family was involved like a house on fire. Tootie was dressed as a fire hydrant and had five dogs on leashes, because she found that sort of thing funny. Stan, Frankie, and Bob were handing out candy to children from their trunk “stall.” Leslie was running the fireside chili station, scooping up her secret five-alarm recipe for the masses, straight from the family’s cast-iron pot. In some sort of All Hallows’ Eve miracle, Tootie and Leslie managed to bake twenty catering pans full of cornbread without fighting over adding sugar. (Because Leslie added the sugar when Tootie wasn’t looking.)
Margot was dressed as the Scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz, to match Kyle’s Cowardly Lion costume and the girls’ Dorothy and Glinda costumes. She flitted from one place to another like a hyper hummingbird, trying to make sure everything ran smoothly, but mostly she looked like she was running herself ragged. Every once in a while, a gust of wind would blow the scent of the chili station her way and she would stop, swallow heavily, and then shake it off and keep running.
Carl and Marianne skipped costumes because they might hinder their ability to chase down a sugared-up Nate, who was dressed as the Flash. Aiden was dressed as Where’s Waldo, but in a camouflage print, because “only dummies try to hide while dressed as a peppermint stick.”
More than three dozen cars were arranged in a semicircle in the elementary school drop-off lot. Each was parked with its trunk pointed toward the interior of the circle, with the trunks propped open and decorated to the nines. The Murrays had done their trunk in a “lab-created candy gone mad” theme with beakers and dry ice bubbling in colored water and fake “evil” candy made out of Styrofoam. The Grandys had gone classic with spiderwebs, Ike’s grandma’s big iron kettle filled with popcorn balls, and a “scary sounds” soundtrack CD. Others went for family-friendly versions of ghost cowboys, ghost pirates, and ghost doctors. Frankie’s own family stuck with what they had, a readily available hearse and an old pine coffin that they’d filled to the brim with Tootsie Pops, Life Savers, and Nerds.
The PTA had dragged out some of the games from the spring carnival and set them up in the center of the circle so the kids who’d already made the rounds for treats could toss rings around two-liter bottles or bean bags through the mouth of a giant Sasquatch. It made Frankie a little sad that the trick-or-treaters were missing out on the fun of going door to door for their treats, like youngsters in suburbs did. But she knew this was considerably safer than wandering the roads in the dark, especially in an area where your nearest neighbor could live a mile away.
Eric, who had stuck with his usual costume of “sexy law enforcement officer,” had put in an appearance as the festivities opened. He’d kept his distance, though he’d waggled his eyebrows when he saw her costume. She was taking that as a win. The Lewises were present, of course. They were dressed as Mary and Joseph. They were dressed as the parents of Jesus Christ, while handing out little boxes of raisins. Frankie wasn’t sure whether she was more offended by the implication that their son was the Messiah or the fact that they were handing out health food and pretending that it was candy. Six of one, half a dozen of the other, really.
Jared had the good taste not to dress to match his parents. He was dressed as Frankenstein. Hilarious. Any time Frankie made eye contact with him, he smirked and lumbered toward the McCready booth, only to change direction just before he reached it. It was the Halloween version of “I’m not touching you, I’m not touching you!” Fortunately, Frankie had plenty of distractions to keep her from doing anything ugly in public.
Religious objections aside, no one had complained about anyone else’s costume. No one had gone home in a huff to change. No one’s treats were turned away. And most importantly, no one had gone into anaphylaxis, so at least the “no peanut treat” rule had been respected. For just a moment, she could pretend she lived in a normal town with normal people in it.
And then she heard a woman say, “Uh, no, honey, let’s skip this one.”
She turned to see Hailey McIver, whom Frankie had known since first grade, steering her five-year-old Power Ranger away from the McCready’s trunk, glancing over her shoulder like Frankie was handing out poisoned apples.
Frankie glanced down at her costume. She wasn’t even going for scary this year. She was flippin’ adorable. She looked up to see Marnette Lewis smirking at her, which was a pretty shocking expression coming from the Virgin Mary.
“Don’t pay them any mind,” Stan told her. “People have been steerin’ their kids away from me for years. I haven’t had a sniffle since the seventies.”
“Yeah, but you’re cantankerous and grumpy. I’m delightful. Look at me, I’m practically a cartoon character.”
He glanced down at her costume. “I’ve been meaning to ask. What are you supposed to be?”
“I’m a peach!” she said, twirling around so the layers of gradient-peach tulle that made up her skirt belled around her sparkly peach leggings and bright pink Converse. A fluffy dark peach sweater topped the outfit, along with a green leaf-shaped beret.
“You don’t look like any peach I’ve ever seen,” he grumbled.
“Well, I tried building a fruit-shaped costume, but the papier-mâché was taking too long to dry,” she said. “At least I didn’t say I was a sexy peach.”
Stan grimaced. “Yeah, thanks for that.”
“Is it cheatin’ that we serve our candy out of a hearse? I
mean, it kind of gives us an unfair advantage over the other cars, in terms of theme.”
“I think this is one of the few times where we should just roll with the advantage of our job,” he told her.
“So, the Lewis boy seems to be enjoying himself,” Stan noted as Jared used his Frankenstein walk to herd Birdie Sherman, a smaller classmate of his, until she was cornered against a truck. Before she could raise her arms to push him, Birdie’s older brother, Billy, wedged himself between them and shoved Jared away.
Jared just shrugged and went to find a new target. Marnette made an ugly hissing noise, but Billy wasn’t as easily pushed around as the adults of Lake Sackett. Billy escorted his sister to a group of her friends, which would be more difficult for Jared to herd.
“Yes, he’s makin’ a real spectacle of himself, makin’ sure everybody sees him yuckin’ it up, so when he slips away to break into the funeral home, there’s reasonable doubt.”
“Are you trying his case already?” Stan asked as Frankie dropped more candy into the bags of a fairy and a Mario.
“I’ve been trying his case in my head since he turned thirteen,” she muttered.
She glanced around the lot and realized that she didn’t see Eric anywhere. Maybe he’d already left to check on McCready’s while things were running smoothly at the Trunk-R-Treat? It meant a lot to her that, even after everything they’d been through, he still took her seriously enough to check the place. It was almost enough to make her forget the whole jail thing.
There was a very good chance she would be givin’ him a treat later.
Kyle led his daughters to the car. “Girls, please climb in the back of the hearse and find three pieces of candy you want to eat.”
“Yay!” The girls crowed and scrambled through the car door.
“Interesting approach to parentin’,” Stan said.
Kyle dragged off the yarn lion mane and propped himself against the hearse, trying to catch his breath. “I hate Halloween.”
“It could be worse,” Frankie told him, just as Nate ran by screaming like a British police siren.
“Son, slow down!” Carl cried as he ran after Nate.
“I told you not to let him eat that Laffy Taffy!” Frankie yelled after him. She turned to Kyle. “See?”
Kyle shuddered. “There but for the grace of God.”
Inside the hearse, the girls were chowing down on chocolate but getting restless. Juniper swiped at sticky streaks on her cheeks. “Daddy, can we go play Toss Across?”
“Sure, girls, I’ll take you,” Stan said, holding his hands out. The girls scrambled out of the car.
“Thank you.” Kyle sighed. “I would say that’s not necessary, but I’m fadin’ fast, here.”
“You okay?”
“Do you have any idea what’s up with your cousin?” he asked. “She’s been so wound up about the Trunk-R-Treat, she hasn’t been sleeping. She just tosses and turns, which means I haven’t been sleeping. And when I don’t sleep, the kids can smell it on me, like bees can smell fear. And that’s when an elementary school becomes the Thunderdome, where chaos is the rule of law.”
Frankie froze. Oh, man. She was a lot of things, but she was not a good liar. And she was pretty sure Margot didn’t want Kyle to find out about the arrival of his future child while wearing a Cowardly Lion costume, propped up on a hearse. And Margot probably didn’t want him to hear it from Frankie.
“You don’t think maybe you’re bein’ a little overdramatic?” Frankie asked, her voice cracking slightly.
“She woke me up around three this morning to ask me if I thought we had enough hay bales set around for the proper fall aesthetic. And I didn’t get back to sleep, ever. I’ve been up since three, Frankie, on Halloween, with two girls under ten. I love the woman, but if she doesn’t sleep soon, I may take her down with a tranq dart. I mean, I’ll do it gently, but she will sleep.”
“I’m sure it’s just the stress of plannin’ all this,” she assured him.
“It had better be . . .” Kyle’s voice trailed off as he stared at something over Frankie’s shoulder. She turned to see two dads shoving each other.
“Dammit.” Frankie groaned. Corey Dahl and David Paulson had been engaged in a long-term pissing match ever since senior year, when David replaced Corey on the first string of the football team and impregnated Corey’s aunt. They couldn’t seem to see each other without some sort of shoving or name-calling. The aunt’s baby’s baptism had been a disaster.
The crowd around Corey and David parted and the shoving progressed to an all-out fight. Carnival games were knocked over. Candy bags were dropped and abandoned as people rushed their kids out of harm’s way. Families started dashing toward their cars. A few more ambitious teenagers used the distraction to load their bags up with candy.
Frankie tossed her cell phone to her mother, who was holding Tootie and the pack in place behind the chili station. “Mama, call Eric’s number and tell him to get here now!”
“Where the hell is he?” Kyle asked as they rushed toward the commotion.
Frankie shook her head. “He said he had a couple of places he needed to patrol tonight with Landry out of commission.”
“What’s happening?” Leslie asked, pulling at Frankie’s arms to guide her away from the tensions. “Honey, did you have anything to do with this?”
“What do you mean by that?”
Leslie shrugged, looking ill at ease. “Well, sometimes you speak before you think—even though I know you don’t mean to—and things like this happen.”
“I didn’t start this!” she exclaimed. “They didn’t need me to start this. Corey and David are always looking for reasons to fight.”
“I’m just saying, you should be more careful.”
“Boys, boys!” Bob yelled as Corey punched David in the mouth. “Just stop this now. There’s kids here and we don’t want anybody to get hurt!”
Frankie grabbed her father by the back of his Colonel Sanders costume and pulled him away from the fray. “Daddy, you will not put yourself between those two idiots!”
“I’m fine,” Bob insisted, just as David dodged a swing from Corey and almost head-butted him. Unfortunately, when David moved to return the punch, he hit Mike Carp, who got pissed, handed his wife their kids’ treat bags, and punched David in the forehead. David’s cousin Donnie took exception to this and tried to hit Mike with a plastic pumpkin full of Jujubes. And it was all chaos from there.
By the time Kyle used his scary principal voice to make the fighting stop, there were multiple black eyes, a broken nose, and a dislocated thumb. Eric rolled onto the scene, lights flashing, as the crowd was dispersing. David, Corey, and several of their cousins were sitting on the curb, held in place by the authority in Kyle’s voice.
Eric’s face was grim as he approached. Vern Lewis was glaring at Eric as he crossed the lot, and Frankie couldn’t help but feel a flutter of dread in her belly. He didn’t even look at her, but she didn’t mind. Eric was in sheriff mode. He did not have time to smile at her, no matter how cute her costume was.
“What seems to be the problem here, guys?” Eric asked. Several people piped up from the surrounding crowd, volunteering their versions of the tale, but they quieted down as Eric raised his hands. Frankie’s head tilted. Interesting.
Families dispersed, trunks were closed, and the McCreadys helped pack up the games and food. Eric collected the statements of all the idiots involved, and none of them were inclined to press charges. He let them off with citations for causing a public disturbance and warned them to go straight home.
“I’m checkin’ the Dirty Deer later. If any of you are there, you’re goin’ to jail,” he told them as they walked away.
Frankie slid the casket full of candy into the hearse and closed the back hatch. She tapped the top twice and Bob drove carefully through the traffic of the crowded parking lot. Leslie was riding up front with an industrial vat of chili balanced in her lap.
Margot was oddly weep
y as she checked close-down tasks on her clipboard. She was good at keeping a stoic face, but she couldn’t hide the tear streaks through the yellow scarecrow face paint.
“I’m sorry, Margot. Except for the fisticuffs from a couple of idiots, it was a really nice evening,” Frankie told her. “Lots of kids got their candy. No one was traumatized by a costume. The Crider family won the trunk decorating contest with a rather ingenious and nonviolent Aliens Attack a Pumpkin Farm theme.”
“Yeah, but the fisticuffs are all that people will remember,” Margot said, wiping at her cheeks. “I just—everybody worked really hard on this, and I can’t believe those guys thought it would be okay to fight at what is basically a children’s party.”
At this, Margot broke into full-on sobbing and Frankie froze. As far as she knew, Margot hadn’t cried when flamingos went berserk at a fancy gala she’d thrown in Chicago and tanked her event planning career. And now she was crying because a fistfight broke out in public, in Lake Sackett, on a holiday. Pregnancy hormones were a sonofabitch.
Stan patted Margot’s shoulder. “Aw, Sweet Tea, they fight everywhere. They knocked over the baptismal during a christening. They’ve taken out the town Christmas tree during the community lightin’ ceremony. Everybody knows you can’t control those two. It’s not your fault.”
Margot sniffled and threw her arms around her dad’s neck, smashing her face into his shirt. Stan’s eyes widened in shock, but he very carefully put his arms around her and began patting her back as she cried. Frankie gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up behind Margot’s back. He shook his head at her.
“Y’all all right?” Eric asked, frowning at the sobbing scarecrow.
Frankie jerked her head away from Stan and Margot’s moment. Eric followed her to the opposite side of the parking lot. “Margot’s fine. She just worked really hard on tonight and she took David and Corey’s fighting a little personally.”
“So how far along is she?”