“Enough about the ledger,” Sam said, eager to move on. “Let’s focus on happier things, like death and ghosts.”
Sam busily emptied the grocery bags on the kitchen counter, pulling out mandarin oranges and celery.
“Uh, what are those for?” Raul asked.
“We’re going to peel these and turn them into little mandarin orange pumpkins! Watch.” She proceeded to peel one, sliced the celery into a thin sliver, then pushed the green stick into the middle of the orange, which effectively gave the appearance of a tiny pumpkin.
Raul smiled, thinking it was cute but deadly. No child would accept this in lieu of candy without a fight to the death.
“Great idea, right?”
“Sure,” he answered dully, thinking of how hard it would be to clean a dozen eggs off her siding.
“And I put together costumes for you, me, and Fido. Here is yours.”
She handed him a button-up dress shirt, thin black tie, sticky thin gray mustache, and black-rimmed eyeglasses.
“Who am I supposed to be?”
“You’re Walter Cronkite reporting the assassination of President Kennedy, obviously.” Then she dumped several bags of cotton balls on the counter beside a bottle of glue.
“And you are?”
“A puff piece, get it? I’m going to glue the puffs all over my shirt. Hilarious, right?”
Raul smiled, enjoying Sam’s trick-or-treating enthusiasm. “What about the pony?”
“Since he’s already black and white, his was pretty simple. I’m going to put red washable paint on him.”
“I don’t get it. A murder victim?”
She took a step back, surprised by his ignorance. “What’s black and white, and read all over?” Sam nudged Raul’s ribs with her elbow, the tips of her ears reddening. “A newspaper!”
Raul could only laugh at how awful the joke was, since Sam was awfully adorable.
“You’re going to make a great mother someday,” he blurted out, realizing too late that it was the completely wrong thing to say and the wrong moment to say it.
Even though Sam had claimed she didn’t want marriage or children, as far as he could tell, she did. She was a natural at it! Who planned a themed Halloween costume with a man unless there was some kind of romantic interest? And who cared about ensuring kids got a healthy snack unless she had a maternal bone in her body? As a hot-blooded man familiar with women’s signals—as well as their disgust—he knew how it worked. And he knew what made Sam tick. Sam wanted marriage and children; she just didn’t know it yet.
“Do you think we should skip the costumes?” Sam fished.
Watching Raul carefully, she noticed his mild confusion over the outfits. How much clearer could she be with her intentions? No one planned matching costumes unless they were children trick-or-treating together or a married couple… but it seemed Raul wasn’t getting the hint one bit. Or maybe he did and was trying to let her down easily. She wondered if perhaps his feelings had changed. After all, the countless lunches he took her to, and then made her pay her own way?
Either chivalry was dead or Raul’s feelings were deader. And yet each time they were together, she felt an urge to kiss him. When their time together concluded—which she often ended prematurely because she was afraid she would kiss him—she felt lonelier than ever.
“It’s up to you, Sam,” Raul answered with a sigh.
So he didn’t want to dress up and play house with her, she concluded. “Let’s just forget the costumes. Well, I should probably get the pumpkin oranges ready.”
“And I’ll run to Woolworths to get backup candy,” he offered.
But neither of them moved, instead avoiding each other and searching for someone to intercept this awkward moment in Sam’s kitchen.
“Do you really think the kids won’t like fruit?” she finally ventured.
“Of course they will,” he lied. “It’s just a good idea to have a sugary backup.”
“Right. In case we run out,” she said, nodding.
Then she turned and began peeling, while he turned and headed for the front door.
She glanced over her shoulder and watched him walk away. Raul wasn’t stupid. He knew no one gave sex appeal vibes like Walter Cronkite. And wordplay was the ultimate love language. What a dork she was, thinking the holiday of horror could finally bring them together.
He probably assumed she was only after his help dealing with Thomas Cook anyway. Because why else would a woman play dress-up on Halloween over chipped ham sandwiches while the vibrant orange sun burned the sky, carrying the autumn scent of freshly fallen leaves, unless it was all part of a ploy to get rid of her archnemesis? That was the only reason anyone would go through all of this effort celebrating a holiday she didn’t even care for.
Except that he had just told her that she’d make a great mother. Did he mean the mother of his children?
He was already opening the door when she shouted uncertainly, “Raul?”
She took a step toward him.
He turned and shut the door when he answered hopefully, “Sam?”
He took a step toward her.
They stared at each other in heavy silence, weighted with all the things they wanted to say but were afraid to utter, lest they lose their hold on this perfect moment. Sam lost herself in Raul’s brown eyes sparked with flecks of gold, while Raul found himself in Sam’s green eyes sparkling with adoration.
Then the urge to cup her cheek came over Raul, the feeling he had every time he saw her. And the urge to kiss him came over Sam, the feeling she had every time she was in his presence. But this time they acted on it, Raul reaching out with both hands to draw her face to his, and Sam leaning up on tiptoes to invite his lips to hers.