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chick packed the good stuff. For pity parties she had European chocolate bars; for gossip fests, she brought Hot Tamales; and for all-night study sessions, it was licorice. I held up the bag of candy corn and Mellowcreme pumpkins.
    â€œSignificance?”
    â€œIt’s Halloween!” She glanced at me askance, clearly baffled by my ignorance. I didn’t even bother to explain.
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” I asked instead, wondering if it was too soon to bust open the bag of candy.
    â€œI need clothes! One of the law firms is hosting a costume party at the Driskill with a Roaring Twenties theme. I was hoping your mom had something perfect for the occasion.” As the event coordinator for the Driskill Hotel in downtown Austin, Courtney was able to seamlessly mesh her two interests: party planning and ghost stories. The Driskill was certifiably haunted, with the history to prove it, but much to her chagrin and utter frustration, Courtney had yet to see a ghost.
    â€œHello, Courtney,” Mom said, leaning in for a cheek press and a squeeze. No doubt Courtney had gotten a whiff of Cover Girl pressed powder. Luckily Mom hadn’t bussed her cheek, or it would have been necessary for her to refresh her lipstick all over again. For the Geek Freak. “I’m sure there’s something here that would be perfect for your party—just look around. I’ll make you a deal,” she offered with a wink and a smile.
    When Mom was gone, I couldn’t wait any longer and ripped a hole in the bag of Autumn Mix. I reached for an orange pumpkin and sank my teeth into the sugar rush. “I’m here for a dress too,” I confided. “For Syd’s Hitchcock event on Halloween!”
    â€œOoh! I wanted to go to that, and would have too, if not for this party. Which reminds me, I need to find a date.”
    â€œYou don’t have to work the party?”
    She reached for a candy corn with a chocolate bottom. “Don’t think so. At least not too much. The catering company is completely professional—I’ve worked with them in the past and been very impressed. Shouldn’t be any heavy lifting.”
    I nodded. “What about Ethan?”
    â€œYour Ethan?” She shot me a look of baffled disbelief.
    â€œWhat do you mean, my Ethan? We’re not together, nor have we ever been,” I reminded her. I reached for a classic candy corn and popped it in my mouth. “We’re not compatible like that.”
    â€œUh-huh.”
    â€œHe and I would never work,” I insisted. “Too many quirks. Besides, he’s too bossy,” I finished, grabbing a handful from the bag and offering Courtney the chocolate corn. “But I am meeting him for dinner at Torchy’s at six. Why don’t you come? Scope out his potential. I think he could pull off a little Eliot Ness. . . .”
    She stared at me for a long moment and finally said, “Okay, I’m game—for Torchy’s, not for Mr. Ness just yet. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Ethan, and I need to reassess.”
    â€œFair enough.”
    Setting the bag of candy corn down on the table and sparing a glance for the rack that held my dress and the secrets of a few other dry-cleaning bags, I grabbed this year’s decorating supplies and nudged Courtney out of the storeroom and back into the shop.
    Courtney and I browsed the racks for clothes that could be transformed into flapper couture, and any she rejected, I pulled for the display.
    â€œSo what’s going on with you?” she asked, draping a low-cut, feather-edged, ruby silk number over herself and sizing up its potential.
    I thought of my recent, inspired decision to introduce my budding alter ego to a little corner of Austin and elected to fill her in. I bit my lip and swiveled my head to make sure Mom was still hunched over the counter in eager cahoots with the Geek Freak before confiding my big news.
    â€œI’m