Midnight Kiss (7 page)

Autumn tilted her head and thought about the idea. An impish smile lit up her face. “That’s a wonderful suggestion, Thane, but you forgot one thing.”

“What?”

“It’s getting chilly outside. You can’t have all the residents outside roasting a pig and drinking funny drinks with umbrellas in them. They could wind up catching a cold.”

Thane didn’t know if she was serious or not. The thought of her digging a roasting pit off the patio sent chills down his spine. To be on the safe side, he prayed winter would hurry up. “Why do you need a hula dancer?”

“I don’t need the dancer, just the grass skirt.”

His gaze lowered to her gently curved hips. Autumn swinging her hips wearing nothing but a grass skirt held great appeal. Who did he know who might have a grass skirt?

Autumn felt a flush sweep up her cheeks at Thane’s heated stare. “It’s not for me!”

He flashed a wicked grin. “That’s a shame.”

Flabbergasted and thrown off balance by the sudden shift in his attitude, she snapped, “Was there a reason you stopped by?”

Thane liked the new, flustered Autumn. For the past twenty minutes he had been reciting every reason he could think of not to become involved with her. But when he saw her staring dejectedly out the shop’s window, his instinct was to comfort her, not push her away. “I brought some tapes for you to look at.”

“Tapes?”

He nodded toward the counter, where he had placed the brown bag, and leaned against the wall. He watched the enticing sway of her hips as she strolled across the room. What were those reasons not to get involved?

Autumn reached into the bag and pulled out half a dozen video tapes. Her eyes lit up as she started to read the labels. “
Frankenstein, Dracula, The Werewolf, The Mummy
. . .” Amazed, she said, “These are the black-and-white originals.”

“I know.”

Confused, she said, “I don’t understand.”

“I’ve been thinking about the Halloween party.” He pushed away from the wall and walked toward her. “It was pretty unfair of me to veto every one of your suggestions the other night.” He smiled as she nodded. “I thought maybe we could have a film festival running all day at the home. We could save the best movie for the party.”

Her hearing must be going. She could have sworn he’d said
all day
. “All day?”

“We set up the game room as a theater and run the movies there. The main party can be held in the dining room. That way the residents will have a choice of what they can do—play games or watch movies.”

“Why are you so gung ho on movies when you’d already vetoed them?”

“When you mentioned them, I envisioned fifty-two senior citizens scared to death to go to sleep for fear some maniac with a chain saw would go berserk in the home.”

“Lord, Thane, that’s sick. Those movies aren’t horror pictures, they’re slashers.” She raised a couple of tapes. “These are the kind of movies I had in mind. Every one of those sweet senior citizens have seen these at least once in their life. Not only will they be entertaining, but I’m sure they’ll bring back some memories.”

“You think so?” he asked.

“I know so.” She glanced at the six tapes. “Which one should we save for the actual party?”

Thane shrugged. “Got me. I never saw any of them.”

Appalled, she stared at him. “You’ve got to be kidding. These are classics.”

He felt as if he had committed the ultimate sin. In a defensive gesture he crossed his arms. “So, shoot me.”

“You just have to watch these, Thane. They’re great.”

A devilish spark twinkled in his eyes. “What happens if I get scared?”

“Have someone there with you.”

The spark flared. “Okay, you talked me into it.” He picked up the tapes and headed for the door. “I’ll be at your place around six.”

“But--”

“Don’t worry about feeding me. I’ll bring the food.”

Autumn snapped her mouth closed as she glared out the window and watched as Thane disappeared down the street. She had been set up! Why, that low-down son of a sea biscuit. Her low, throaty laugh filled the shop. Mister I’ve-never-seen-a-horror-film was in for a real treat. What was a horror-film festival without the original
The Night of the Living Dead
?

#

Thane opened his office door and frowned. Where was Richard Gudgmore, his ten-thirty appointment? Worried, Thane stared down the deserted hallway and wondered what had happened to everyone.

Hearing distant voices and what suspiciously sounded like thunder, he walked toward the din. His anxiety turned into understanding. Autumn had brought the pumpkins, along with an audio aid. His footsteps faltered at the closed doors to the dining room. Did he really want to see what was happening in there? Laughter and chatter were being drowned out by the high-pitched wailing of a banshee.

Thane’s curiosity overcame his common sense. He needed to know what was going on, even though he knew he would regret the knowledge. When Autumn had called him that morning to get his consent to paint a few pumpkins with the residents, he had felt victorious. She had been asking his permission first. Now he wasn’t too sure who exactly was victorious.

He pushed the swinging door a few inches and glanced around. It was worse than he had imagined. All the residents who weren’t bedridden were clustered around newspaper-covered tables painting faces on small pumpkins. At least that was what he conceived they were supposed to be doing. Actually the scene resembled a nightmare Picasso might have had. Paint had splattered, dripped, and spilled over half the residents. Some pumpkins wore ghoulish expressions, while others seemed filled with childish delight.

The walls vibrated with the sound of an approaching locomotive. He stepped into the bedlam, located a purple boom box blasting a tape of Halloween fright sounds, and lowered the volume a couple of notches.

“Isn’t it wonderful?”

Thane glanced at Nurse Harris and debated about how to answer. “Wonderful” was winning the number-one slot from VCRP. “Wonderful” was the way Autumn kissed or the sound of her laughter. “Wonderful” was diagnosing an illness in its early stages. “Wonderful” was not having a few pumpkins turn into an entire crop. He looked over at Clark Baker, who was helping Cecil hold a paintbrush. “I see the entire staff is here pitching in.”

“Of course. As soon as the pumpkins were delivered, we recruited every available pair of hands. Only a skeleton crew was left on the floor to handle the bedridden.” Mary Harris raised her arms and encompassed the entire room. “Have you ever seen them so happy?”

Thane scowled as he looked around at the chaos. Why hadn’t anyone asked him to help with the pumpkin painting? He would have helped. He searched for Autumn; she had to be in there somewhere. The night before, they had shared the half-dozen white cartons of Chinese food he had shown up with while watching Igor “
Yes, master
” and the Mummy groan their way to stardom. Autumn had curled up next to him on the couch, tucked her bare feet under her, and proceeded to tell him everything that was going to happen next in the movie. He had loved it. When he had heard Autumn’s sweet voice on the telephone two hours before, their heated good-night kiss was still fresh in his memory.

A commotion on his right broke into his musing. Thane’s gaze landed on Harold as the older man shook his paintbrush at his roommate, Ned, splattering blue drops everywhere. “. . . and I’m telling you, your pumpkin looks like a wimp.”

“It is not. You’re just jealous because Beatrice likes mine better.”

Thane quickly excused himself to Nurse Harris and hurried over to the table before someone chucked a pumpkin. He had just regained order when Claudia VanZant stood up and announced she couldn’t possibly paint the pumpkin given to her. Thane slowly made his way around the crowded room, offering compliments to beaming residents. He was two chairs away from the demanding, immaculate Claudia when he spotted Autumn. She was coming from the opposite direction. He knew Autumn had to be somewhere in the middle of the pandemonium; after all, she caused it.

Autumn bent and pressed a kiss to Lillian’s rosy cheek. “Lil, that’s wonderful. I really like the eyes.” She straightened up and looked toward Claudia. Her heart missed a beat when she spotted Thane talking to the eighty-two-year-old prima donna, the closest thing to royalty Maple Leaf had.

“I don’t see anything wrong with your pumpkin, Claudia,” Thane said.

“It’s not the shape of the pumpkin.”

Thane was still amazed at Claudia’s French accent. She had been twenty-one when she had left her homeland to marry an American. Sixty-one years was a long time to carry an accent. “Then what exactly is wrong with it?”

Claudia smoothed a wrinkle out of her smock and closed a leather case containing her personal camel-hair paintbrushes. “It has no personality. How can you expect me to bring out the essence of Halloween on a lifeless orange blob?”

Thane glanced toward Autumn for help, suppressing the idea to apologize for his lack of artistic understanding.

Autumn read his silent appeal and picked up and studied the offending pumpkin. After a moment she turned to Claudia. “You’re absolutely right.”

Claudia nodded her approval.

“I have one pumpkin left, but I’m not sure it’s for you.”

“
Pourquoi
?”

In a low whisper, Autumn explained, “It was at the bottom of the box, and quite frankly it’s ugly and misshaped.”

Claudia bent her head and considered the information. Her long red-lacquered nails drummed on the table for a full minute. “Bring this ugly duckling to me, please.”

Autumn hurried off and quickly returned with the pumpkin. Claudia took it in her hands and closed her eyes in concentration. “Perfect,
ma cherie
. I can feel the haunting brutality of being a pumpkin pouring from it.” In a surprisingly swift movement Claudia sat down and reopened her case to select a fine-tipped brush.

Thane looked at Autumn as Claudia started to paint the lopsided pumpkin. He reached out and gently ran a finger down Autumn’s cheek where a red paint streak marred its perfection. “Every time I see you, you have a dirty face.”

Mesmerized by the intimacy of his gesture, she bit her lip to stifle a groan. “Did I have a dirty face last night?”

“No, I guess it’s every other time I see you that you’re covered with either paint or dirt.”

She rubbed the back of her hand across her cheek. “Sorry about that. Darlene got carried away with her pumpkin’s mouth.”

Thane captured her hand. “Don’t apologize. Paint becomes you.” He smiled at the flush stealing up her cheek. “Speaking of pumpkins, I have a bone to pick with you.”

“About what? I asked your permission this morning.”

“You asked to paint a
few
pumpkins.”

“This is a
few
pumpkins.”

Exasperated. Thane said, “There has to be fifty pumpkins here.”

“That is a
few
.”

“Not if you’re counting earthquakes, elephants, or children.”

Autumn glared. “It is a
few
if you’re counting stars, grains of sand, or fishes in the sea.”

Thane chuckled. They were both right. He held up his hands in surrender. “Next time I’ll make sure I have a complete definition of what you have in mind before granting permission to one of your ventures.”

Autumn studied his playful expression. “Why did you agree to it? I’m sure the inspectors wouldn’t count pumpkin painting high on their list of desirable activities.”

“Do you believe, because you asked so nicely?”

“No.”

“How about I had just finished talking to a doctor in Norfolk where the inspection team was yesterday? If the team is over there, we should be safe here for a couple of days.”

“Here I thought you were being nice.”

“I am nice,” Thane said. “I’m just not stupid.” He glanced around the room and smiled. “Where did you come up with fifty pumpkins on two hours’ notice?”

“A farmer.”

Astonished, Thane asked, “A farmer donated all these pumpkins?”

An impish light gleamed in her eyes. “With a little incentive.”

“What did you promise in return?”

“A maple rocker his wife had been eyeing.”

“I didn’t realize bartering was still practiced in America.”

“In my shop it is.”

Thane’s gaze zeroed in on the small cluster of intriguing freckles scattered across her nose. “Let me guess. The farmer didn’t have the cash so you made use of something he did have.”

“Hmmm . . .”

He looked around the noisy room and grinned. Nurses were busily cleaning up proud residents, and even the kitchen staff was helping to steady a shaking hand. Reko was flexing his muscles by lifting a giggling Esther back into her wheelchair. “Want to hear something scary?”

“What?”

“I’m beginning to like you.”

Autumn checked to see if they were attracting attention. Nobody seemed to be paying the least bit of notice to them. She smiled. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

Thane shook his head and started to back away slowly. “I don’t know about you, but it’s scaring the hell out of me.”

Half an hour later Autumn stood staring into the mirror on her grandfather’s wall. All the paint had been scrubbed off her face, leaving behind a glow of anticipation. Thane was coming over again that night to view more videos.

“Have you heard one word I’ve been saying?” Paddy asked.

“Yes, Paddy. First, you want to know if Thane has had any leads yet. Second, you want me to check with the local police to see how long they can lock up the ‘slobbering scoundrel.’ And your last comment was on Lillian’s new dress.”

“You have been listening to this old man, haven’t you?” A tiny grin curved Paddy’s lips. “She did look ten years younger sitting there all in pink and smiling this morning.”

Autumn turned away from her reflection and smoothed a wrinkle out of the blue bedspread. “Maybe someone has captured her eye.”

“You think so?”

“From what I hear, every female heart has been afluttering since the nocturnal Romeo started to leave his calling card.” Hearing her grandfather’s muttered curse, she impishly added, “I even heard they had to set Darlene’s pacemaker down a notch.”