But one of the things about Larchmont, and in particular the part of it where Nina lived, was that decorating for Halloween was the subject of serious civic competition. The local legend was that decades before, a scenic engineer who worked for Paramount (which is basically in Larchmont) had completely re-created the house from Psycho, largely for the fun of it, and unintentionally started an arms race of cobwebs and plastic spiders. Every year things got a little nuttier, creative types in the neighborhood showed off a little more, and kids came from farther away. These days they came by the busload, and Nina’s only stipulation about attending the earlier pumpkin patch festival was that they needed to be home by six so she could lock her cat inside and hide from the children.

“Hey!” said a small voice, and someone tugged at Laura’s sleeve.

“Hey yourself,” said Nina, leaning across to bop Clare on the nose. “How do you know Laura?”

“She came gardening,” said little Clare, who was dressed as a seagull, which meant a gray baseball hat with googly eyes and a bill made from a yellow pool noodle. Her mom had clearly forgotten till the last minute. “She teaches people to fly and isn’t interested in Bob.”

Laura frowned, but Polly and Nina were used to Clare.

“Where’s the rest of your gang?” Polly asked her.

“Behind me somewhere,” said Clare, looking in her candy bag. “I can see a Reese’s peanut butter pumpkin.” She looked up. “They’re the best of all the shapes, did you know that?” She was asking Laura, but she didn’t really wait for an answer, and Laura knew better than to bother. Catching and holding the attention of an eight-year-old child on Halloween is like trying to catch a hummingbird with a piece of dental floss. It’s theoretically possible, but not very likely.

Lili and Edward showed up with a very small baby in a carrier. The October afternoon had a breeze, and the baby wore a little cream hat with red stitching that made it look like Lili was balancing a baseball between her boobs. Which was also theoretically possible, but not very likely.

Edward was talking to a taller little girl, who was presumably Clare’s older sister. Laura tried to remember her name, but couldn’t.

“Hey, Annabel,” said Nina, saving Laura from asking. “How’s the reading?” Annabel was in Nina’s book club at the store and was responsible for snacks, a job she took very seriously.

“Good,” said Annabel. “I’m on a dragon kick.”

“Strong move,” said Nina. “Eragon? Seraphina?”

“Yes and yes,” said Annabel. She turned to Edward. “I really don’t want to do any of the stuff, can I stay with you and read?”

“Sure,” he said. “Or your mom can stay with you.”