Page 67 of Halloween Town

Poppy didn’t understand what he was saying, but she still knew he was, politely, handing them their ass.

Stepping away from the desk, she frowned and looked at him again. This wasn’t Thom-renovating-the-inn. This was Thom-in-his-natural-habitat, utterly at ease. He was fully in charge of this meeting, and everyone else was listening, the alpha dog leading his pack.

His world, the world away from H-Town, was where he went toe-to-toe with the powerful, discussing high stakes and important issues that made headlines and changed lives. He provided the people who mattered with weighty and consequential advice and road maps and gave them information to make crucial decisions.

Poppy inched toward the door, wanting to put some distance between her and Thom-on-the-screen. Her world, in comparison, seemed so damn small. She spent her time at her desk drawing a map of a fantasy world, and thinking about the character art Melody wanted her to create. While Thom looked completely at home and born to consult, she was in flux, unsettled and a little lost, trying to find her own spot to shine, her life held together by creativity, intuition, and a huge heap of stubbornness and hope.

Sure, Thom might’ve taken a detour over the past few years, but he was returning to what he did best. He was systematic, organized, determined, and results driven. She was a ghost-seeing, chaotic creative who prioritized people above professional success. If Thom was an ocean wave, then she was seaweed floating on its surface. Opposites might attract in romance novels, but the trope didn’t always translate in real life.

So what did she expect from him? What did he expect from her? Could this whirlwind of sex and laughter, late-night snacks and hours of talking be sustained and translated into something deeper, something that could last? Or was he just one more person who was destined to pass through her life, for the second time? Poppy moved away from the door and touched the wall, then the lantern-shaped newel post; the solidity of the house grounding her. The noise from the construction workers upstairs faded, and to Poppy, it seemed like the inn exhaled around her, and its weight of familiarity and comfort settled her jangling nerves.

Yes, this place had always been her safety net, somewhere she could retreat into her bubble. But it wasn’t hers, it was simply familiar. It was a comfort she’d never earned, a place of protection, a place she ran to because she couldn’t cope with what the world threw at her.

She loved the inn, loved that so many important moments of her life had happened in this house and on this land. But she didn’t own it, and she couldn’t claim it as hers. It wasn’t her place to shelter. She could say the same about Thom—he was solid, steady. Safe. And being with him felt good…

Mostly. But sometimes, like today, even if unintentionally, he made her feel … less-than. Not big enough, confident enough. Not enough. Period. She still found herself wanting to shrink, to be his perfect girlfriend, lover, housemate.

Poppy sat on the bottom step and cradled her coffee cup, watching the way the sunbeams from the open front door played tag with the dust motes on the floor. She didn’t want to distance herself from Thom—why should she, she was having so much fun with him—but it was time to grow up. She was hiding out here, standing behind him instead of next to him.

She’d manipulated him into letting her stay, using her grandparents and their old friendship to her advantage. And there was the other thing—still unspoken, still gnawing at her. Nobody knew she hadn’t realized Benji was cheating until after she’d run. She didn’t even know how to admit it, not to her friends, not to her family, not to Thom. The words felt impossible, like they would make her seem foolish, careless, weak.

It was time to confess, but she didn’t know how. It might also be time to claim something that was hers because she chose it, not because it was always there, like Solstice Deep and—she grimaced—Thom were.

She’d never lived on her own. She’d always gone with the flow: roommates, boyfriends, then Benji—desperate to make the people she lived with happy and comfortable. Living like that had diminished her. And hearing Thom take complete command of that meeting brought all her feelings of being inadequate and small to the surface.

She was tired of feeling both. And she was the only person who could change that.

Moving out of Solstice Deep was the first step. She had savings, and she was being paid to draw the maps—she’d had other requests for commissions, too. If she needed money, she could start embroidering more FU cushions or take on a part-time job. If she wanted to live a creative life, then she had to claim it, fight for it, stop coasting. Most importantly, she had to start believing her talent was viable and not a quaint quirk.

From the library, she heard Thom’s slow, rich, deep chuckle, and she half-smiled. When she told him she was moving out, she needed to explain, as clearly as possible, that this was about her, not him. Or them. That this ache she’d lived with all her life—the old wound that made her crave acceptance and validation—was hers to heal.

Resolve would be required, even more bravery. Could she do it? She wasn’t sure. But she knew she had to try.

Ruby

Ruby stood in front of Poppy and waved her hand in front of her face. Nope, she was too deep in her thoughts to sense the presence of three ghosts. Pity. When Poppy was like this, physically present but mentally miles away, she couldn’t read her. What was she thinking? What was she planning? Why did she have a weird look on her face?

Humans. Seriously.

Lila was draped over the banister, and Naomi hovered in front of the oversized hall mirror, pulling faces at her ghostly reflection.

“She’s going to make a call,” Lila said, and Ruby pulled her eyes back to Poppy, who was now scrolling through her phone. She cocked her head, and because Poppy put the call on speakerphone, they heard Luna’s booming “Hello, baby girl” echoing in the empty hall. The house did have excellent acoustics.

“Luna, do you have a minute?” Poppy asked, gripping the bridge of her nose.

“Always for you,” Luna replied. You had to give the old broad some credit: when one of her “chicks” called, she dropped everything to pay attention.

“How’s your stalker?” Poppy asked. Ruby could answer that question: currently Cedric was in his office at the archives, digging up dirt on the town’s original settlers. There was a rumor about why they were booted out of Salem—something to do with them recreating the Exodus bible story and using livestock and the town’s water supply to reenact the parting of the Red Sea. Luna wanted it to be true because she had the mad idea to recreate that event at Thanksgiving…

Because, really, what could go wrong?

“He’s having a moment, men do. It’ll pass eventually.”

Ruby shook her head at her insouciance. “A ghost is in love with you, Luna,” Poppy pointed out.

“So?” Ruby easily imagined Luna’s shrug. “Many men have been in love with me, darling. They all, bar one, survived. Dying, obviously, is not something Cedric has to worry about.”

Poppy lifted her eyes to the ceiling and shook her head. “I don’t want to know any more in case it incriminates me.”