An aneurism felled Gloria one morning as she cleaned up after breakfast. One minute she was talking to Rob about where they should go to dinner that weekend to celebrate their anniversary, and the next she was on the floor. Gone without warning at thirty-four. And just like that, the honorary title Vickie had accepted at Zoey’s christening became a solemn responsibility—godmother.

“I know you met at the Rendezvous Falls Festival Committee, but how...”

“I’ve told you the story a hundred times,” Vickie said. “I was married to Stanley Noor at the time.” Stan was her first husband and first divorce. She didn’t care that he was bisexual, but she did care that he was unfaithful on a regular basis with any man or woman who gave him the opportunity. “Gloria wanted to change the Halloween festival to a Ghostwalk event, and I thought that was ridiculous. Letting people wander all over town and telling them nonsensical legends... I thought the town would be a laughingstock. And I said that in the meeting.” She could still recall that meeting, more than thirty years ago, and the ever so slight, but determined, narrowing of Gloria’s eyes.

Gloria was new to Rendezvous Falls back then. She’d followed Rob there after they married. She didn’t know anyone in town, but that didn’t stop her from volunteering for the prestigious festival committee which oversaw the near-monthly festivals that brought tourist revenue to town.

“Yes, I know,” Zoey said, munching on the plain bagel she’d spread just a bit of butter on. “You and Mom got into a shouting match in a meeting, and like some lovers’ meet-cute in a movie, you became fast friends afterward.”

“It wasn’t a shouting match.” Vickie sniffed. “I don’t do public shouting matches. But your mom wouldn’t back down an inch.” She circled her hand in front of her stomach. “And she was out to here, pregnant with you.”

Zoey gave her a wink. “Well, she got her way. And she was right. The Ghostwalk is still one of the biggest festivals every year.”

“Yes it is.” Vickie finished her bagel. “It’s a perfect event for a town full of old houses. The stories were already there—we just had to collect them.”

Zoey was looking out the French doors facing the water from the kitchen. “Oh, no—what happened out there?” She was pointing at the broken section of railing and a crushed corner on the deck.