What Not to Wear to a Graveyard. Debra Sennefelder

around here.” Liv reached for her cup.

      Kelly choked on her sip of coffee. “How much? Is she crazy?”

      “Crazy in love with her dog.” With her latte, Liv claimed a table for them. The morning rush had passed through, and now all that lingered were a handful of freelancers, retirees, and stay-at-home moms, they’d pieced together two tables for the six of them and were engaged in a lively conversation about potty training.

      “I could sure use that money to pay for some renovations to the boutique.”

      Liv smiled. “I’m so glad you decided to stay in town. I’ve missed hanging out with you.”

      Kelly took another drink of her coffee. She knew her friend since childhood was excited about her decision to stay and run the consignment shop, she’d inherited from her granny. It also came with an apartment upstairs for Kelly to live in while she settled into her new life from out-of-work fashion buyer to retail shop owner. The inheritance also came with a cat, Howard, and her uncle, Ralph Blake, who was left the headache of being the executor.

      “Maybe you should go look for the dog. The money would come in handy.” Liv leaned back and sipped her latte.

      “There’s way too much on my plate right now for me to find a dog. Everything in the shop and the apartment needs to be overhauled.” While she wanted to stay true to the roots of the shop, it needed a total revamp to attract new customers for both buying and consigning. “Plus, we have Sally Hathaway’s Halloween party.”

      Liv’s eyes brightened, and she clapped her hands. “I’m so excited you’re going this year. We always had fun at that party.”

      “Frankie suggested we coordinate our costumes, and he’s thinking of a 1970s theme.” Frankie was her Uncle Ralph’s son from his first marriage. Now on marriage number three, Ralph had a baby daughter named Juniper. She was a bundle of cuteness Kelly couldn’t get enough of.

      “I could go as Cher!” Liv sipped her latte.

      Of course, she could. Tall and lean, all she needed was a long wig to cover her pixie cut and a spray tan session. Even though she was one-hundred percent Italian, she had fairer skin than Kelly.

      “I’ll send you a link to the website he found costumes on.”

      “I could see Frankie as a hippie. Text the link to me when you have a chance. I better get going. My shift at the bakery starts in a few minutes.” Her family owned the popular bakery in town. She grabbed her cup and stood.

      “Will do. Oh, I’m going to scout our shoot location for the social media campaign.” One of the tasks on Kelly’s long to-do list was to create a social media presence for the boutique, and she wanted to style the merchandise in a way that caught budget-minded fashionistas. What better way than a photoshoot using a model? She’d convinced Liv to pose for a few photographs. What took some begging and bribery was getting her to agree to the shoot location.

      “I’m still worried Nona will be upset that we’re taking the photos at a cemetery.” Concern filled Liv’s dark eyes and her lips pressed together.

      “It’s not a Catholic cemetery.” Kelly wasn’t sure how much of an argument that was.

      Liv shrugged. “You know what she’s like.”

      Kelly did. She also knew she was risking leftovers of lasagna made with homemade pasta if she offended the woman.

      “But it sounds like fun. I’ve never modeled before. I’m looking forward to it.”

      And with that, Kelly exhaled the breath she’d been holding. If Liv backed out, she didn’t have a plan B, other than just photographing the clothing on a dress form. And, seriously, how boring was that idea?

      After saying goodbye to her friend and finishing her coffee, Kelly slipped behind the wheel of her Jeep and set out toward the Colonial Church.

      The sturdy all-wheel-drive vehicle was on loan to her from Pepper Donovan, her late grandmother’s best-friend and full-time salesperson at the boutique. It was yet another kind thing done by Pepper that had Kelly forever grateful.

      The GPS alerted her to the upcoming left turn onto Clegg Road, which led to the old cemetery. She guided her vehicle to a spot in front of the wrought-iron entry gate and parked.

      The last time she was there, she was nearly scared out of her wits. The visit included a boyfriend, a six-pack of beer and creepy noises. She was out of there before anything happened between her and what’s his name.

      This visit however was going to be okay. She told herself there was nothing to be afraid of.

      She locked the Jeep, leaving her tote on the front seat and walked through the gate, which looked as old as the cemetery. She tugged her faux fur teddy coat tighter around her body. The morning was brightening, as the sun peeked out from behind the clouds, but it was still chilly.

      The graveyard was tucked away in the back of its deconsecrated church and surrounded by a forest thick with trees, wild animals and enough ghost stories to last a lifetime.

      She shuddered. All those tall tales she’d heard as a child were replaying on a loop in her head.

      “Stop it. There are no such things as ghosts.”

      She continued walking along a grassy path, past a scattering of century-old headstones summarizing the short lives of Long Island’s forefathers. It looked like someone had been maintaining the graveyard. There wasn’t any trash or any overgrowth, just a blanket of fallen leaves as far as she could see. The trees overhead were bare, and she expected at night in the darkness they cast scary figures.

      Get a grip.

      She gave herself a mental shake and re-focused her brain on the reason she was there—the photoshoot.

      Photoshoots sounded glamorous. In reality, they weren’t. She was the location scout, photographer, stylist and schlepper all rolled into one.

      She veered off the path, her high-heeled boots crunching leaves as she studied an irregular row of headstones. Who were these people who’d died over two hundred years ago? Did they really haunt the cemetery as legend said? She gave herself another mental shake. Focus, Kell.

      She took a sweeping gaze over the landscape and let her mind wander with possibilities for photographing at least three outfit looks. As much as she tried to focus, the creepiness of the isolated location was seeping into her bones, nudging out the cold. Maybe she shouldn’t have come alone.

      With a nod, she decided she had enough of an idea of how to style the outfits and where to set Liv up. It was time to go.

      She turned to head back to her Jeep when she heard a noise off in the not-so-far distance. Crunch. Her breath caught, and she was transported back to her disastrous date when she was scared off from the cemetery. She hated when history repeated itself. Okay, she was being silly. It probably was only a squirrel. They were scampering all over the place, hiding their nuts. Then the noise came again, and she looked over her shoulder. The sound was too loud for a little squirrel.

      Time to leave. She stared straight ahead and began walking to the gate. Her feet slugged through deep layers of fallen leaves when she heard…

      Crunch.

      Was someone there? Watching her? She shook off the ridiculous notion; after all, she wasn’t in the city anymore.

      Crunch.

      Her heartbeat kicked into overdrive, and so did her pace.

      Crunch.

      The sound was getting closer.

      She looked over her shoulder, a little scared at what she might see.

      And that’s when she lost her balance and toppled to the ground. She landed hard on a mound of leaves and branches. Her head just missed the corner of a headstone that had a jack o’ lantern propped on top with the evilest looking grin.

      What black-hearted