Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“Whoa,” Hannah gasps as we’re given admittance at the guard house. The wrought-iron gates swing slowly inward, and I drive through. “I didn’t know houses like this existed.”
My guess is this community doesn’t have a house that costs less than five million. Most are priced well above it. Every single home has custom landscape lighting, so everything is lit up in a warm, safe glow. The sidewalks are already crawling with other neighborhood rich kids in their costumes.
When I turn onto my dad’s street and see his house in the distance, I can’t help but hit the brakes to come to a dead stop in the road.
There’s my dad’s mansion, all white stucco and red-tiled roof—not dark and abandoned looking to ward off trick-or-treaters but blazing with light and decorations.
Orange lights are wrapped around the portico columns and throughout the bushes along the front. The front porch has an impressive display of hay bales, pumpkins, and a full-sized stuffed scarecrow lounging there.
“What the f—?” I catch myself before the F-bomb flies, gaze going quickly to Hannah. “Looks like my dad is home and open for Halloween business.”
“Is that a problem?” Hannah asks uneasily.
“Not for our plans tonight,” I mutter as I start driving again. “But I might be seriously scarred for life that my dad has started celebrating this holiday.”
Hannah snickers, and Hope asks, “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” Hannah reassures her.
We pull into my dad’s circular driveway. As we’re getting out of the car, a group of trick-or-treaters bound up his porch and ring the doorbell. My jaw drops wide open when I see the door swing open to my dad standing there with a huge sombrero on his head, a Mexican poncho around his shoulders, and a horrendously large black mustache on his face.
“Trick or treat,” the kids all yell. My dad laughs, tossing candy in their bags and buckets from a huge bowl. The kids leave, and a woman appears at his side.
His new fiancée, Mandy. She’s dressed as a witch. And not a sexy bombshell witch or even Glinda the Good Witch of the North. Nope—she’s an old hag-like witch, complete with green skin and a bump on her nose.
Holy shit.
My dad sees me. I can’t tell, but I think he smiles underneath that big mustache. I want to jump back in the car and drive away because this is freaking me out so bad. Instead, I walk around the front of the car and offer my hand to Hannah. She’s already got Hope out of the car, her other hand touching Hope’s back.
As I guide Hannah, she steers Hope forward and up the porch steps to come face to face with a man I no longer recognize.
Metaphorically, of course.
My dad bends over, the little tiny row of colorful pom-poms hanging from his sombrero waving back and forth. “Well, look at you. What’s your name?”
“Hope,” she says.
Hannah reminds her, “Say trick or treat.”
Hope does, and my dad laughs. He immediately proceeds to toss most the bowl of candy in her bucket, filling it almost halfway up.
Straightening, he raises an eyebrow at me expectantly. I jolt into action, remembering my manners. “Dad… this is Hannah Madigan. You’ve met her daughter, Hope.”
I switch my attention to Mandy, who I grudgingly admit I have a small measure of respect for since she managed to get my dad to dress up in that ridiculous costume. “And this is his fiancée, Mandy.”
Hannah shakes both their hands graciously, and they exchange pleasantries.
“I thought we’d use your neighborhood to trick or treat in. I’m just going to leave my car in the driveway if that’s okay?” I ask my dad.
“Of course, of course,” he booms jovially. “And when you’re done, come inside and we’ll have a drink. Mandy made some Halloween cookies. I bet Hope would love some.”
“If it’s not too late,” I say, vowing silently to make it so. “We better get going.”
I usher Hannah and Hope out to the sidewalk and we head down the street to the next property.
“Your dad seems nice,” Hannah says, and my head snaps her way.
“That man you just saw… I think he’s been overtaken by aliens.”
Hannah laughs. “You mean your father isn’t normally nice?”
“He’s nice enough,” I admit. “But dressing up like that? Actually celebrating a holiday? That was just very, very weird.”
I get a little smirk from Hannah. “I think it’s sweet. I bet his fiancée got him to do it.”
That’s probably true. There must be some outside force that made such a change in him.
As we traverse the neighborhood, Hope talks excitedly about the other kids and their costumes. I wait at the bottom of each porch as Hannah walks with her to the door, wondering how I ended up in this Twilight Zone.
Taking a woman and her child out trick or treating.
My dad embracing a holiday and dressing up.