26
T he hay bales are outside my store when I get downstairs the following day. To be honest, I’m surprised Leo had it in him to touch them at all after yesterday, but they’ll look great next to my pumpkin display, so I have nothing but gratitude.
Canine King is still dark and made all the more so by its lack of a festive front step. Leo has clearly given up on our bet, and while I fully intend to claim my prize, I also feel a little bad. I tell myself the sympathy has more to do with the costumed kids being met by this sad, un-Halloweeny sight than with Leo, but even I know that’s not entirely true. I don’t want anyone to be left out, not even him. Before I can change my mind, I load a cart up with three pumpkins and set off across the street.
Jaz arrives as I’m unloading the first one. “What are you doing?” she asks.
“Decorating.” I sprinkle a bagful of cinnamon-scented pine cones around the pumpkins and stand back to admire my work.
“I don’t understand. Are they booby-trapped?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the catch?”
“No catch. He gave me hay bales, so I’m reciprocating.”
Jaz stares at me a moment. Then she taps the side of her nose with her finger. “Ah. You’re biding your time. Gotcha.”
I’m about to set her straight but decide against it. In a way, her perspective is correct. Nothing has changed. Leo is still here, and I still want Canine King gone. I’m just not sure how to explain that the once black-and-white situation suddenly is morphing into a kaleidoscope of complex colors.
“Anyway, I need to get back. Don’t tell him it was me.”
“He’ll know.” She calls after me. “You’re the only one around with a serious pumpkin problem.”
She’s right. He texts me shortly after I open.
Thanks for the pumpkins , he says. It looks great. Can’t believe you did that.
I look up, and there he is inside his store, smiling at me. He has his phone in one hand and a round broom in the other, bristles up as if he’s channeling his inner witch.
Me: Thanks for the hay.
Leo: I’ll have no choice but to dress up now, won’t I?
Me: Aren’t you already?
He sends me a question mark.
Your current witch cosplay , I clarify. Or what’s with the broom?
His response takes a few seconds. In case something needs sweeping obviously.
The bristles need to face down for that to work.
The three dots appear then stop.
I knew it. You’re worried Cinderella’s little helper will decide to return to the scene of the crime, aren’t you?
No , he texts right away. Then, A little. How far away did you set the mouse loose?
Far enough , I reassure him. And I’m only a stone’s throw away should you need my bravery once more.
Okay fine. I’m putting it down. He looks at me across the street, places the broom on the floor right inside the doors of his store, and backs away as if I’ve disarmed him. Then he’s back to typing. How’s Boris doing?
“Changing topics, are we?” I say out loud. Tired, but moving around again. No great harm done.
That’s a relief. I might stop by with a treat for him later if that’s okay.
My stomach does a weird loop the loop, but before I can respond, Customer—gotta go pops up on my screen, and sure enough, I look up to catch a party of four entering Canine King. I don’t have time to mope about it though because, a moment later, I’m busy with customers of my own.
After closing, I finish putting in orders while eating instant ramen at the table upstairs. All my seasonal pumpkin-flavored foods and treats have flown off the shelves as if the obsession with pumpkin spice lattes extends to include the family pooch, and there’s still another week to go before October 31. I’ve just closed my laptop when there’s knocking on the front door of the shop. For once I remembered to close and lock up on time, and I get stragglers?
I move gingerly down the stairs in my sasquatch fuzzy socks, speeding up when I see Leo outside.
He must see my quizzical look because he holds up a small bag. “Treats for Boris.”
I unlock and open the door. “I didn’t think you were actually going to come.”
“Why not?”
“Come in.” I head upstairs, and he follows. Cholula is perched, teeth bared, at the landing, so I scoop her up and place her on a cushioned chair by the table. “Be quiet. We don’t growl at our friends.” I turn to Leo. “I guess I figured you’re busy. People say things.”
“If I say I’ll bring treats, I’ll bring treats.” He hands me the bag and moves out of the way as I clear a pile of dog capes off a chair. After he sits down, he does a not-so-stealthy inspection of the space I currently call home.
“What do you think?” I ask, observing him carefully. His place is a luxury penthouse compared to this. I’ve strung up fairy lights behind the curtains to add ambiance, but that only goes so far.
He does a floor-to-ceiling sweep again. “It’s nice.”
I purse my lips. “You don’t have to lie. It’s a tiny hole of a place. A supply closet basically.”
“Yeah, okay, it’s a little cramped. I think Diane’s truck could fit everything in here.”
“It’s like an airplane bathroom and a storage bin had a love child together.”
“But the bed alcove is cute.” His eyes glitter. “If you’re a hobbit.”
“Good one.”
“No, but seriously. It isn’t bad for one person. Kind of cozy in a wintery, cabin-nook type of way.”
“A nook with three dogs, lest you forget.”
“Right.” He points to the treat bag between us. “They’re all made from scratch, organic, healthy. The big one is apple—that’s for Boris since it’s his favorite.”
I squint at him. “How did you know that?”
“You told me, remember? The first time we went out to the farm. Apple pie…”
I pause my unraveling of the bag. “I can’t believe you remember that.”
“Where is he anyway?”
“He and Cap are sleeping over there.” I indicate the hallway, and, as I do, Boris appears with major bedhead even for someone whose normal state is “disheveled galore.”
“Hi, bud. How are you doing?” Leo asks.
Boris limps to his side and puts a heavy head on his thigh.
My heart instantly turns more puddle than solid. “Aww, he wuvs you now,” I coo. “He usually only does that with Pop. Here.” I hand him the cookie.
“Want a treat, bud?”
Boris devours it in two bites and then rests his head against Leo again. Leo strokes two fingers between the big dog’s bushy brows until Boris lets out a pleased huff. There’s something so tender and unguarded about the pair that makes me choke up a little, and I don’t know why.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Leo says, catching me watching him.
“Nothing.” I pull the cover off my sewing machine that’s sitting off to the side and start changing the spool of thread to have something else to look at.
“That’s the most complicated thing I’ve ever seen. I didn’t know you could sew.”
“You didn’t?” I choose a moss-green fabric from the pile on the chair next to me and find a matching thread from the tin. “I post my pet costumes on Insta all the time. You’ve seen them.”
Leo gapes. “You make those?”
“We sell a lot this time of year. Those capes next to you will be gone in a week.”
He picks one up. “Hey, maybe I should get one for Tilly. Someone told me we have to dress up.”
I stop short. “What happened to ‘Halloween is for kids’?”
“Another terrible impression of me, but yeah. You win. The decoration bet, the costume… You are the rightful queen of Halloween.”
“Wow.” I pretend to be confused. “But, if I’m the winner, then that must mean that you’re… What’s the word again? The… the… I think it starts with an L .”
“The loser ,” Leo grunts, his lips twisted with wry humor.
“I’m sorry, what’s that?”
“I’m the loser,” he says, louder, putting his hands behind his head and stretching. “Enjoy it now, because we both know what’s coming.”
“You mean when you’ll be wearing a Happy Paws shirt to work and post about it online? Yes, I do know that.” I give him my best megawatt smile.
He shakes his head in mock disappointment. “I should have known better than to stop by. What was I thinking?” Despite his words, he stays seated, fingertips tapping the tabletop.
“You were thinking of Boris.”
His eyes lock with mine. “Yes… That must have been it.”
A long moment follows when Boris’s breathing is the only sound around us. Leo’s gaze makes me want to lean forward, closer, but thankfully my machine is between us. I press my palms to the cool metal and sit back instead. “It’ll be fifty bucks even for the cape,” I say, looking away. “I’ll let you know when it’s ready. Those over there will be too small for her.”
“Deal.” After a brief pause, he stands. “I should go. Like I said, I just wanted to check on the big guy.”
The way he says it makes me feel bad, like I’m kicking him out in the cold when he deserves better. I scramble for something to say to make the feeling go away. “It was very sweet of you—how you carried him back and everything. Thank you. I mean it. I’ll try to be nicer.”
“You’re welcome. But for what it’s worth, I already think you’re nice.” He moves toward the stairs. “And I actually do like your place. Especially what you’ve done with the lights around the window. They make you look like a Renaissance painting when you sit there, half lit among your fabrics.”
I peer over at him, afraid to move. My heart pounds unevenly against my ribs.
He lifts his hand and is just about to head down the stairs when he spots something in the murky hallway that makes him flinch. “Oh God, that scared me. For a second, I thought it was a person.”
I go over there to look. “It’s just my dress form.” I pull it out from the wall, and the blue silk of the half-finished gown I’m working on glints in the light.
“That’s pretty. Is it for you?” Leo asks, stepping around it to see the back.
“Nah. Sometimes I take commissions from people online.”
He stops and looks from the dress to me and then back. “Oh?” The word catches and comes out like a small croak.
I run my hand across the pinned-together bodice. “This one is actually for the Lincoln masquerade ball, so it’ll be pretty tight to finish it. It’s currently sucking up every spare moment I have.”
Leo pulls in a quick breath that ends in a cough. “Ah.” He bangs his fist against his sternum twice. “Got something…” He coughs again. “Stuck.”
I squint at him. “You okay?”
He backs away a step, eyes still on the dress. “Yeah. Uh-huh.” A quick smile, another step back.
“You sure? You seem a little… off.” If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s still unnerved by the dress form.
Finally, he meets my eyes again. His are wide like he’s just noticing me there. “No, sorry. I’m just… I should go.”
“Okay. Well, thanks again.” I take hold of the dress to stay put. The air feels weird. Charged with undefinable undercurrents.
He nods slowly and presses his lips together. “Okay, I’ll see ya.” A moment later, he’s gone.
And so, it would appear, is my common sense because, in a turn of events only Micki could have predicted, I wanted him to stay.
I think I like Leo Salinger. I think I like him quite a bit.