The Woman in the Hollow (Grassi Family #9)

Chapter One

Hazel

“I’m sorry, my pretties,” I said, running my hands over my autumnal sweater collection I’d brought out of my under-bed storage two hopeful weeks ago when I still had faith that the fall weather would kick in eventually.

“Not yet,” I added, grabbing a t-shirt instead and walking over to crank up the air conditioning.

Eighty-something degrees in October. I thought I was done crying over my electrical bill. Alas, nope.

It was opening day of The Hallows—the all-month Halloween festival at the garden center I’d started to work at two weeks before.

It had been a nonstop push to get the place turned over from your average, run-of-the-mill center that sold colorful annuals, hardy perennials, trees, soil, and mulch, as well as a tiny indoor store with planters, watering cans, and some yard decor into the sprawling extravaganza worthy of all the school class trips planned as well as a steady stream of casual visitors.

It was the first year, and apparently, the owner was seeking the same sort of vibes he’d felt when he was a kid and visited the garden center that had sat closed for over a decade.

I figured the guy was a Halloween freak like me. Which made working there even more exciting.

To be fair, I was just as much a freak about Christmas and spring planting.

Which made this job even more perfect for me.

Because once the autumn festivities wrapped up, the garden center would shift into Christmas mode—selling live trees, wreaths, garland, ornaments, and little gifts from local craftsmen.

Not to mention the hot cocoa cart, pictures with Santa, and an actual live manger.

I was trying not to get too ahead of myself with the winter plans, even if my head was spinning with them. Halloween deserved my full attention. Especially on opening day.

I yanked the t-shirt down over my head and looked at myself in the mirror nailed behind my bathroom door.

It wasn’t the look I’d wanted to sport, but the simple black tee and the orange and black checked pants were just going to have to do.

I grabbed my work pin off the counter and secured it to my chest.

DG Greens.

Not the most unique of names, but I heard it was a homage to the old name of the place, just changed to the owner’s initials.

And apparently, the woods around the garden center had the nickname “the hollow” to the locals. Which gave it all the Halloween vibes.

Reaching up, I finger-combed my shoulder-length black hair and curtain bangs into some semblance of order, swiped on a deep autumnal red lip, and lined my dark brown eyes.

“Alright,” I said, nodding at my reflection. “Let’s go make Halloween magic.”

That was my mom’s phrase.

She said that parents (and sometimes grandparents, siblings, or aunts and uncles) were the “magic keepers.” They were in charge of creating that sense of wonder we all felt as little kids. That deep-seated awe that we all looked back on as adults with a soul-aching nostalgia.

Granted, I didn’t have any children yet, but I was a sort of stand-in magic-maker, working where I worked. And I took that job very seriously.

I paused in my kitchen to grab my cutesy ghost-printed water tumbler and my reusable witch hat coffee cup. Both were empty. Because one of the perks of the job meant I got bottomless coffee from the hot bevy cart and as much fresh-pressed cider as my heart demanded.

I skipped breakfast too. Because I had three apple cider donuts with my name on them. And maybe a slice of pumpkin bread while I was at it.

I didn’t even have to feel guilty about all the sweets since according to my fitness watch, I walked roughly twenty-five thousand steps over a general shift at the garden center. My aching thighs the first few days were testament to that.

“Okay. Hold the fort down,” I called to the large rectangular terrarium on my entryway table.

That had been a fun project when I’d arrived in town—decorating and planning a real, self-sustaining ecosystem that included substrate, plants, water, and tiny little shrimp.

None of which required any work from me to keep it thriving, save for maybe topping off the water when it evaporated.

As much as I hated it, my life didn’t allow for normal pets. I worked too much. But the shrimp let me feel like I had a couple of little companions who basically didn’t even know I existed.

“It’s going to be a late one,” I told them before grabbing my bag and phone and heading out the door.

“Disgusting,” I grumbled at the morning air, hot and soupy with humidity.

I wasn’t a summer hater, per se. It was just the whole of, you know, July and August, and a large chunk of September that I disliked.

June was full of the wonder of long, warm days.

But the thrill quickly faded as the insects invaded and the air made your clothes stick to your sweaty back and chest within minutes of being outside.

You could say I wasn’t looking forward to summer in the garden center. I might see if I could schmooze my way behind the counter of the small indoor building with the air conditioning and lots of iced coffee.

I jumped in my Jeep and started down the road, singing along to my ‘Spooky Season’ playlist the whole way up the highway until DG Greens came into view.

The building itself wasn’t much to write home about. It was a low brick and glass building that housed the store, but it had a much longer addition off the back—creepily windowless—that was home to our haunted house.

Between the manager of the garden center, the staff of eager teens, and me, I had to admit that the haunted house was pee-your-pants terrifying.

“You ready for this shit?” my manager asked. Domenico looked like he stepped right out of some mafia show and into the pumpkin patch. Did that make sense? No. But that was the only way to describe him. He was tall and fit, with a granite jaw, dark hair, and guarded black eyes.

Nothing about him suggested he should be in charge of class trips full of actual impressionable children. Yet, here he was. In all black with a really expensive-looking watch and a gold chain featuring a diamond-encrusted cross.

I mean, obviously, they were knock-offs. What garden center manager could afford that much diamond and gold?

“Absolutely,” I said, bouncing on my feet. “I mean, I need some pumpkin spice coffee, an apple cider donut or two, and then I’m ready. But yes. I’m so excited.”

“Can see that,” he said with a head shake.

“Oh, come on. You’re excited too! You put a lot of thought and work into the haunted woods and house.”

“Because I like scaring the shit out of people.”

Well, okay then.

Mission accomplished.

“That is part of the goal. Though that’s mostly an after-school part of the day.” For the most part, everything for the class trips was really toned down. The schools didn’t want to traumatize the kids. That was for the parents who came back later. “What do you need from me?”

“I dunno. Just… check with everyone and shit.”

Domenico wasn’t exactly the best manager I’d ever come across.

In fact, aside from his contributions to ‘scaring the shit out of people,’ I wasn’t sure I’d ever actually seen him doing any kind of work.

I was a little confused about how the garden center operated over the summer without me to try to pull things together.

I mean, Domenico hadn’t even ordered the extra hay bales we needed for the hayride.

The center itself provided the straw we needed for the stuff-your-own scarecrow activity and the corn for the maze, but we needed the hay to sit on in the back of the cart.

He also hadn’t stocked any of the fall and Halloween-themed gifts in the shop.

Or the t-shirts for the garden center featuring really cool vintage Halloween designs.

But he sure stuffed a lot of black garbage bags, wrapped them in duct tape to resemble human bodies, and strung them in the trees.

So, balance, I guess.

I didn’t want his job, per se. Titles weren’t important to me. But maybe a raise for picking up his slack would be nice.

“The boss is going to be here today, right?” I asked Domenico as he followed me to the coffee cart, getting his usual bitter black coffee as I ordered my sugar-sweet pumpkin nonsense.

“Dante, yep.”

Dante.

That was the first time I’d heard his name. Interesting.

“You’ve met him?”

“He’s my cousin, so yeah.”

Oh. Okay. That actually made a lot more sense how Domenico kept a job he was clearly ill-suited for.

“Is he bringing his kids?”

“Dante? No. He don’t have any yet. No matter how much his ma is on his ass about it.”

“Oh. I figured he wanted to create all this magic for his own kids,” I said, waving out at everything we’d created. Had I busted my ass working fourteen-hour days since I started to bring it all together? Sure. But, God, it was worth it.

“No. But we are closing one night so all the family’s kids can come and go apeshit. Looks like we’re about to be invaded.” Domenico nodded his chin. Turning, I saw a big yellow bus making its way up the highway toward us.

“I’m going to go tell everyone. Can you greet the teachers and chaperones?” I asked.

“This a nice way of asking if I can watch my fucking mouth for five minutes while you’re out of sight?”

“Something like that,” I said with a smile because his lips had quirked up a bit.

“I’ll do my best.”

“I’ll be as quick as I can,” I said, grabbing an apple cider donut and taking off at a power walk that would make my grandmother proud.

“Kids are here!” I announced to each employee working every attraction.

I was doing a full-on jog by the time I made my way back from the woods, knowing I had to set up the long picnic tables with the crafts still.

Once I had the stacks of plastic containers full of markers, glue, paper, paper plates, crayons, real and fake leaves, and folders to bring it all home with, I made my way back toward the build-your-own scarecrow area.

Normally, you had to bring spare clothes from home and stuff them. But since kids couldn’t bring anything big like that on the bus, we’d opted to buy bulk doll clothes for them to work with instead.

Finished with that, and checking to make sure the teacher and chaperones didn’t look horrified by anything Domenico was saying, I took a few steps back and sipped my coffee as I surveyed my hard work.

I sucked in a deep breath, letting the smile split my face, knowing just how awestruck these kids were all going to be.

And it was right then I heard a deep masculine voice.

“Is anyone working here?”

Well.

There went any pride I had in my work.

And my first impression of my boss, the elusive Dante? Yeah, not great.

Teeth clenched hard enough for my jaw to ache, I turned.

And there he was.