Earnest by Kreisler Kristin von

Author:Kreisler, Kristin von [Kreisler, Kristin von]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2015-12-08T19:00:00+00:00

On the porch, Anna handed Lauren and Joy their candy baskets. Lauren had turned her little black cocktail dress into a witch’s costume, applied black lipstick and nail polish, and put on a pointed hat that made her a scary seven feet tall. Joy wore a sexy gypsy outfit—a low-cut peasant blouse with a tiered skirt, and a gold scarf, knotted above her left ear.

Earnest seemed to have decided to be a misanthropic zebra. He clumped to the corner next to the front door and lay down under long cobweb wisps and man-sized ghosts, which hung from the beadboard ceiling. He ignored children streaming down the sidewalk: three girls disguised as bottles of mayo, mustard, and ketchup. A boy dressed as a mouse with his mother, a cat. A jellyfish carrying a clear plastic umbrella from which hung Saran Wrap strips for tentacles. A flock of angels left over from Christmas pageants.

Tommy arrived as an orange felt traffic cone, and Sam, his golden retriever, wore a George Washington wig that his mother had found in Gamble Playhouse’s costume bin.

“Earnest, come here,” Anna called. “It’s your best friend, Tommy. Say hello.”

Usually, Earnest bounded over and licked Tommy’s face, but tonight he struggled to his feet as if lying on the porch had exhausted him. He plodded over to Tommy, whose face he couldn’t lick anyway because it was mostly hidden behind orange felt.

“Is he sick?” Tommy asked.

“I don’t think so. But lately he’s not been himself,” Anna said.

“Why?”

“I’m not sure.”

“I’ll visit him tomorrow.”

“You do that. He’d like it.” As Tommy turned to leave, Anna waved her magic wand and tossed fairy dust on him. “Any particular wish?”

“That Earnest would feel better,” Tommy said.

Wrenching words. From the mouths of babes. “That’s my wish too.”

As Tommy made his way back down the crowded sidewalk to Rainier, Anna glanced across the street. In front of Sawyer’s Restaurant, Jeff was hurrying along in a parka and blue muffler, his eyes as straight ahead as a Marine’s in parade formation. Doubtless, Jeff had just arrived from work and was headed to his apartment. Also doubtless, he intended to avoid Anna—because he looked like his neck might break if he turned his head.

Tonight’s Jeff contrasted sharply to the Jeff she’d loved last Halloween. With relish, he had thrown himself into haunting the house and scaring the children. He’d cut out cardboard gravestones, painted “RIP” on them, and lined them up in the front yard. On the porch he placed coffins he’d made out of wooden crates from Hall’s Imports down the street. Jeff recorded scary noises and screwed colored lightbulbs into upstairs lamps. From a Seattle party store, he rented a fog machine.

When the big night came, thanks to Jeff, red and orange lightning flashed in upstairs rooms, and wails and screeches pierced the dark. Fog billowed out the windows and front door. Occasionally, Jeff leaned from a window above the porch, shone a flashlight under his chin, and laughed, “Heh-Heh-Heh!” Then he dangled a plastic skeleton by the neck a nd cackled like a deranged chicken.

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