Epilogue
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CHAPTER ONE
Mackenzie was going undercover for the night. Her wild red curls were hidden under a sleek black wig, and she’d traded her usual funky dresses and knit sweaters for a tight black cat-suit, complete with a pair of knee-high platform boots.
She paused by the mirror, carefully touching up her smudgy black eyeliner, and felt a thrill at the stranger staring back at her. Usually, she went zany and creative for Halloween, but she’d spied the cat-suit in the corner of the thrift store, and impulsively grabbed it from the rack.
Now, she felt unrecognizable in her disguise: sexy and mysterious, like some foreign agent on a secret mission, out to seduce and destroy.
Even if she was just going to seduce the snack table, and destroy some home-baked goods.
She grabbed her keys, locked up, then slipped them under a flower-pot by the door. There was no room for pockets with this figure-hugging get-up, and secret agents didn’t carry a battered old tote bag.
No, they got by on their wits, charm – and a switchblade hidden in their cleavage.
Mackenzie wouldn’t need any deadly weapons at the town Halloween party, but her cleavage wasn’t too shabby, she decided, thanks to the extra five pounds of ice-cream weight she’d put on over the summer.
She set off down the street, an extra swing in her step as she imagined conquering exotic nations, and seducing rogue spies, but the illusion lasted all of the five blocks it took her to reach the town square.
“Aww, Mac! You look so cute!” someone called, the moment she approached the crowd.
“Great costume, Mac.”
“Mackenzie! Where did you get that belt?”
So much for sexy and mysterious. Mackenzie sighed. This was what she got for living in the same small town most of her life. There was no going incognito here, not when everyone knew everyone else’s business, and half the town had seen her dressed as an Oompa-Loompa in the school play.
“Watch out!” A group of pint-sized ghosts charged past, clutching baskets of candy, and Mackenzie was sent spinning.
“Easy there!”
Mackenzie turned to find her friends Poppy and Cooper arriving, in their matching 1920s bootlegger costumes.
“Hey guys.”
“You look amazing!” Poppy exclaimed, greeting her with a hug. “I almost didn’t recognize you in that wig.”
“Thinking about a new style?” Cooper teased, flicking the sleek, bobbed hair.
Mackenzie laughed. “Not anytime soon. The last time I tried short hair, it all puffed up into a frizzy ginger halo.”
“I remember,” Cooper grinned from under the brim of his trilby hat. “We called you Orphan Annie for months.”
“Yeah, thanks for that.” Mackenzie gave him a friendly glare. Between the bad hair, hand-knitted sweaters, and smelly home-packed hummus from her hippie parents, high school hadn’t exactly been kind to her.
“Don’t worry, nobody remembers that stuff now.” Poppy linked her arm through Mackenzie’s as they strolled through the busy streets.
“Spoken like a newcomer,” Mackenzie shot back, laughing. “Sweetbriar Cove never forgets.”
“I can’t believe everyone’s costumes,” Poppy continued, deftly changing the subject.
They passed another crowd of trick-or-treaters, dressed up in a dazzling array of robot, witch, and Disney outfits.
“Back in the city, I just had a couple of neighbor kids come to my door dressed in regular clothes, demanding candy.”
“Haven’t you learned by now?” Mackenzie asked, “We don’t ever miss the chance for a party in this town.”
Halloween in Sweetbriar Cove was a big deal.
Well, pretty much any festival was a big deal there.
Nestled in the crook of Cape Cod, Sweetbriar Cove had built a reputation for its small-town charm - and for going all out with the decorations at the smallest excuse.
There were harvest hay-bale mazes, and spring jamborees, and the winter Starbright Festival was the pride of the Cape, drawing thousands of visitors from all over the world.
Tonight, it was the Halloween Hoe-Down, cleverly recycling all those hay-bales until they put the Tennessee backwoods to shame.
The Town Hall was already lit up, with music and laughter spilling out into the brisk autumn night, and inside, crowds of people were already enjoying the food and dancing: a robot spinning around his zombie bride, while a trio of ghouls harmonized with a harmonica up on-stage.
“Ooh, candy apples!” Poppy’s eyes lit up when she saw the buffet along the back wall. “Be right back!” She grabbed Cooper and cut a path towards the baked goods, leaving Mackenzie to adjust her wig.
It turned out, sleek and sexy was also itchy as hell.
“There she is.” Debra, the unofficial town events planner, made her way through the crowd. Tonight, the older woman was dressed in flowing robes, with a magician’s wand in hand. “Thanks again for helping out,” Debra said. “The murals look great.”
“Creepy enough for you?” Mackenzie asked.
As the resident artist in town, she was always getting recruited to help out with decorations.
This time, she’d painted some ghoulish backdrops, complete with cobwebs and tombstones, but Debra had kept insisting on more blood.
Now, it looked like a murderous frenzy was splashed over the back wall.
“Just perfect!” Debra declared.
She took a step back and looked Mackenzie over, getting a familiar glint in her eye. “You look very nice. I think I saw the Janowitz boy back from Miami somewhere, dressed as Batman. You know he’s a partner now in that law firm?—“
“I know.” Mackenzie cut her off. “You already told me. Twice. And so did Larry at the hardware store, and Franny at the market. I’m surprised you didn’t send a newsletter out: alert, eligible bachelor returns!”
Debra knowing look. “We’re just looking out for you, sweetheart. It’s about time you found someone. What are you now, thirty?”
“Twenty-nine,” Mackenzie corrected, feeling a sting.
“Exactly. You’re not getting any younger.”
She blinked. “Gee, thanks---“ but Debra had already steamed away – probably to find that Janowitz boy and corral him into asking Mackenzie on a date. Debra was out of luck. Mackenzie had already had an infamous coffee with Craig, years ago, and she definitely wasn’t his type, cat-suit or otherwise.
In fact, Mackenzie would bet there wasn’t a single guy between the ages twenty-five and forty on the Cape that she hadn’t been fixed up with at some point.
It was par for the course, for the Spinster of Sweetbriar Cove, as she jokingly called herself, and she knew they only meant well, but all the good intentions in the world wore a little thin when everyone in town was worried you were going to die alone.
Alone, but with cats. Mackenzie had already decided, the moment she hit thirty, she was adopting a litter of adorable kittens. If she was going to be a spinster, she may as well go all out: stop shaving her legs, and give up on underwired bras, like that poem about getting old and wearing purple.
She was almost looking forward to it.
Almost.
Mackenzie danced for hours, with everyone from the mayor to her seven year-old neighbor.
The murals were a hit – judging by all the gruesome selfies people were snapping – and something about the costumes let even the most straight-laced residents let their hair (or wigs) down.
She was breathless and laughing by the time she wound up doing a clumsy ‘Thriller’ with Cooper, trying to remember the routine from years ago.
Then music suddenly switched to a slow song, and there was a tap on her shoulder.
“Mind if I cut in?” Poppy asked with a smile.
“Be my guest.”
Mackenzie stepped away, watching as the dance-floor paired off.
Poppy and Cooper, Riley and Brooke, Grayson and Summer…
Looking around, she realized that all her friends had someone with them that night.
Even the sworn bachelors among them were cradling their partners closer, gazing at them with pure affection in their eyes.
Mackenzie felt an empty pang.
Suddenly, her wig itched in the heat, and her cat-suit was uncomfortably hot. The noise of the crowd felt like it was closing in on her, so she skirted the slow-dancing couples to the exit and slipped outside, letting the door clatter shut behind her as the cold night air hit her lungs.
She took a deep breath, and then another.
It was late out now, and the town square was dark; lamp-lights casting a warm glow over the still of the empty streets.
Mackenzie could hear the music still echoing from the party, but instead of rejoining the crowds, she strolled slowly across the square, past the closed-up store-front of her little gallery, and towards the green.
The wind whisked around her, sharp, and Mackenzie smiled.
She loved winter on the Cape. They were famous for their summers – a parade of beach days, lobster rolls, and ticker-tape fluttering in red, white, and blue – but Mackenzie preferred the blaze of fall colors, and that first taste of snow.
Already, she’d pulled the heavy blankets down from her wardrobe, and traded her denim cut-offs for thick wooly tights, and she had her snow boots waiting by the door, ready to crunch through the pristine snowfall the first morning it arrived.
Maybe this year, she’d do another set of snowflake ceramics. The tourists for the Starbright Festival had loved them last time around, and she could play around with different glazes to get that perfect wintery luster on the bowls and delicate tea cups…
Mackenzie climbed the stairs to the gazebo, still lost in thoughts of winter ahead; she didn’t even notice somebody else was already sitting on the narrow bench until she knocked into a pair of outstretched boots. “Sorry,” she exclaimed, stumbling hard on her stacked heels.
A pair of hands caught her waist, and then Mackenzie found herself pressed up against the solid planes of a muscular body.