The Second Halloween

A 2016 BBTV Round Robin

By

ChicagoTunnelKid, JoAnn Baca, Cindy Rae, Janet Rivenbark, and Olivia K. Goode

Catherine hugged herself as she contemplated her Halloween surprise for Vincent. Last year’s celebration was by happenstance. Not so this year. She meant to celebrate with Vincent Above again, but with more refined planning this time. She wanted to fulfill a dream of his on the one night he could more safely be Above.

It just happened that the Met was having a charity function on Halloween, complete with attendees in masquerade dress. How perfect! Vincent loved art, and would be able to see it first-hand rather than on the pages of a book. She had procured a few more items of dress for Vincent, so that he would resemble a musketeer. She had a lovely gown of that era she would wear.

She knew that they could not stay long, and that eating was out of the question because it might reveal too much. But Vincent might have time to see all his favorites and have memories to last a lifetime. At least, she hoped so.

She gathered up the boxes containing his boots, coat, pants, and hat, complete with feather. She now had to go down and plead her case.

-----

Vincent looked askance at the hat.

“Rather flamboyant, don’t you think?” he asked with one eyebrow up.

“It’s part of my plan to hide you in plain sight.” She came over to him to take the hat from his hands and position it on his head, cocked to one side. “Perfect.”

She went over to her bag and retrieved a hand mirror. She held it up for him to look.

He tilted his head one way then the other. She saw him pose just a bit. She had him! She knew it was a good plan!

“So how is this all to work?” he asked. “You know Father will want to know, and, I admit, I also want to know to be sure of my safety.” He stepped closer to run a finger along her cheek. “I’d hate to go trick or treating and find out it was a trick!”

“I’ve thought of everything, Vincent. Just listen.”

As she revealed her plan, his furrowed brow softened, and at one point he even chuckled softly. When she was finished, he doffed his magnificent hat and swept it in a low bow. "I think even Father would agree that this 'treat' is worth the slight danger involved in going Above on Saowen," he remarked.

"Let's go tell him now, while our courage is high," she said, laughing.

-----

Halloween dawned but it was hard to distinguish day from night. The sun was nowhere to be seen, the clouds thick and heavy with the threat of rain. Catherine stared out of the French doors in her bedroom and frowned, deep in thought. There was no romance in arriving bedraggled and dripping to the kind of charity function they were to attend. She would have to watch the weather report for the prospect of clearing by the evening.

As she dressed for work, her telephone rang.

"Cathy?  It's Dad.  Do you have a minute?" Charles asked, well aware of the time.

"Just a few minutes.  I'm half-way out the door," Catherine answered, fishing a shoe out from under the bed.  "What's up?"

"Well, I know you mentioned you were going to the Met Gala tonight, and I just wondered if you wanted to share a cab on the way over.  Kay surprised me with tickets, and I've dusted off my old confederate officer costume.  Kay's going as a Southern belle.  Want us to swing by and pick you up?"

Catherine stared at the phone, dumbstruck.

"Well...Dad, I...well..." she began, unsure of how to wriggle out of the situation. She hadn't counted on her father showing up to the event; he rarely did the charity circuit anymore, preferring to just send a substantial check. But Kay had been slowly pulling him back into the social scene. She grimaced, realizing she should have checked with Kay before making plans. How could she bring Vincent with her when her very nosy parent would be sure to ask a million questions about the gallant stranger accompanying her...one he knew nothing about?

Catherine took a deep breath and steadied herself, disappointed to make the only decision possible. "I'm sorry to tell you that I won't be able to attend after all, Dad. Something came up. But have a wonderful time, and give Kay my love."

Charles' voice reflected his own disappointment. "Sorry to hear that, sweetheart. Well, try to have a good Halloween, in any case. Talk to you soon!"

As she replaced the receiver, Catherine closed her eyes, feeling tears building behind her eyelids. She had planned it all out so meticulously … and Vincent had even garnered Father's blessing for the plan. Now … She sighed as she found her other shoe and slipped her foot into it. Well, she'd come up with one good plan - why couldn't she come up with another?

-----

“No, Catherine.”

She was surprised when Vincent disagreed with her on the decision to change their plans. He’d done just as she’d suggested: donned his costume and walked right in the front door of her building. She’d left his name with security, and they’d sent him right up, no questions asked. But the novelty of letting him in the front door had been tarnished by the news she knew she had to deliver.

“I want to attend the charity event, and I think it’s about time that I met your father, don’t you?”

“Um, well…” She picked up the shawl and reticule that went with her costume. “I guess, but it’s going to trigger a lot of questions, and if I know Daddy, and I assure you, I do…he’s going to want to get to know you better.”

“We will cross that bridge when we get to it.” He gallantly held out his arm. “Now, shall we go? We’re going to be late.”

The doorman nodded to them as they left the building and, once outside, Catherine stepped to the curb and flagged a cab. Vincent helped Catherine into the back seat and followed her in.

“Maybe we will be lucky and not see Daddy and Kay,” Catherine said as they entered the crowded room.

Vincent bent down and whispered into her ear, “I think it’s too late,” just as she heard her name called.

“Cathy! Honey! I see you changed your mind.”

“Daddy!” Catherine smiled all the while she was frantically trying to figure a way out of this situation.

Her father stopped in front of them, with Kay at his side.

“And who is this most interesting musketeer?” he asked. “Have you been holding out on your old man, Catherine?”

“No, of course not. Daddy, meet Vincent; Vincent, meet my father, Charles, and his date, Kay.”

She prayed that was enough. She had no idea if Vincent even had a last name or not, or was just using Father’s, but that held its own kettle of fish!

Vincent shook a gloved hand with her father, turned, removed his hat in a flourish with a bow, and then, as he rose, he took Kay’s hand and kissed the back. Catherine was momentarily, oddly, jealous.

“I can see I will have to watch this one!” Her father chuckled. “He’ll swoop in and steal any woman here!”

Polite laughter dissipated as her father asked, “How did you two meet?"

Catherine, dumbstruck, stared at her father, but Vincent rescued her. "We met in the park."

Simple. Truthful. Entirely acceptable...considering just how many important details he had left out. Catherine had to admire his ability to shape reality into what others might want to hear. Perhaps he'd had a lot of experience with Father, she thought.

"So," she began, taking her father's arm and leading him away, "where's the champagne?" She marched her father, protesting slightly, away from Vincent and Kay, hoping Kay would prove the less inquisitive of the couple.

Kay turned to Vincent. She stared hard at him. "He isn't a Helper like me, Vincent. That was taking a big chance."

"Catherine tells me that we don't know what our limits are.  I suppose I decided to see if she was correct," Vincent intoned, taking Kay's arm as they strolled.

"Cathy doesn't know about me," Kay said, fanning herself as they trailed Charles and Catherine.  The former was taking a pair of champagne flutes off a passing tray.

"Apparently not," Vincent observed, watching as Charles handed Catherine her glass of champagne - and leaned in to ask what was probably a question about him.

"She didn't even know about Peter Alcott until last year.  There are some things I'd like to keep between us, for the time being," Kay said, smiling at her beau as he motioned them over.

"As you wish," Vincent replied, escorting her nearer to Charles and Catherine.

"And just what were you and Kay so chummy about?" Catherine inquired with raised eyebrows.

"Just pleasant small talk: how wonderful we all look in our costumes, how sad it is that we can't be so light-hearted more than once a year."

"You’re feeling light-hearted?" she asked, eyes emboldened with an agenda.

How to answer when your love has boxed you into a corner? He sighed. "I was," he answered truthfully.

"Let's get that feeling back. They are just about to play ‘Monster Mash,’ and I want to dance with you."

This should be good, she thought. Vincent was many things: capable, intelligent, loyal, loving…well, the list went on and on. But one thing she didn't know was that he was a good sport about dancing a silly dance that came from Halloween. She would soon find out.

"They are conducting a tutorial over there before it starts. Let's go!" She pulled on his hand, and thus missed the mischievous grin that Vincent gave her.

Vincent merely watched as the tutorial took place. Catherine had tried to pull him onto the dance floor, but he had resisted, so she relented and took note of all the moves. It seemed more complicated than the simple "Mashed Potato" dance derivative it had been intended to be; apparently a choreographer had been hired to "improve" upon it.

When the teacher left the dance floor, the music began in earnest, and couples filled the floor. Most of them merely shuffled together, not bothering with the steps. But Vincent moved to her side and immediately began the dance, as taught, without having practiced. Astonished, Catherine kept up with him, marveling at his agility and grace. He turned the silly dance into a sight to behold - gliding and dipping perfectly, and with a smooth rhythm that soon had others stopping to admire the two of them dancing. By the time the dance was over, they were the only couple left on the dance floor. As the last notes faded away, Vincent twirled Catherine and dipped her, and the room erupted with applause.

Catherine, flushed from the exertion - and, to be honest, from the thrill of dancing with Vincent - waved a hand in front of her face. "Whew!"

Vincent arched an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you are winded from that short little dance?" he inquired, humor shining in his eyes.

"Yes, yes, I know. You turned the tables on me quite decidedly. You can stop gloating now," she replied, laughing to show she wasn't in the least humbled by the experience.

A hand clapped Vincent on the shoulder. "That was marvelous!" Charles said, impressed. "You've had training as a dancer?" At the shake of Vincent's head, Charles pressed his lips together, then added, "I will figure you out soon enough, young man, trust me on that!"

Kay was tugging his arm and pointing at someone across the floor, so Charles broke off the conversation with an apologetic wave.

“Uh-oh,” Catherine almost-moaned.

“What?”

“Daddy is intrigued now. That could be trouble.”

“How do you mean?”

“Where do you think I learned my investigative skills? While Daddy was in law school he interned for a firm that specialized in criminal law. All he did was research. He said he learned so much about the law doing that, he suggested I do the same. I spent some time working as a clerk for him then I did an internship with another firm. Daddy is good; I’m surprised he went into corporate law.”

“So you think he might be overly curious?” asked Vincent. He knew that Kay was trying to steer Charles in another direction, but she might not be as successful as she hoped she could be.

“He wouldn’t consider it overly curious, just protecting his daughter.”

“I can certainly understand that,” Vincent said as he looked across the room to where Charles and Kay were talking. Charles looked up and met Vincent’s eyes. He smiled, but Vincent knew that there was more speculation in his gaze than friendship.

“So, Kay,” Charles was saying to his date, “what do you think of Catherine’s young man?”

Kay tensed ever so slightly. "He seems very nice. By the way, did I tell you the Pattisons asked us to a post-event gathering at their townhouse?"

Charles studied her before saying, "Yes, you did. And you seem to be changing the subject…which is that Vincent person. Now, Kay…why are you avoiding talking about him?"

"Am I?" Kay replied distractedly. "Well, I don't have much to say, I suppose. He seems quite nice, and is a lovely dancer. But why are you so intent on discussing what seems to be a casual date of hers? You've seen her with any number of young men at this kind of event. Why is he so special?"

"There's just…something about him…" Charles mused. "And Cathy seems quite taken with him."

"If you say so," she answered, casting in her mind for any other subject to distract him. But before she could, he answered her.

“You don’t think Cathy likes him? Just look at her eyes! They follow him wherever he goes. I haven’t seen those faces since my wife and I looked at each other.” A flash of sadness passed over Charles, to be immediately replaced with a stiff upper lip and straight posture.

“I think I will go talk to Cathy.” He strode off before Kay could utter a word. She pantomimed wildly to Vincent, trying to let him know.

“Cathy! Vincent!” Charles’ left hand grasped Cathy’s elbow, while his right grasped Vincent’s.

“Sweetheart, I must say, the quality of the men you date has improved. I believe, in my day, we would say that Vincent is a man of substance. And it’s clear how much you care for each other.”

He smiled, and Cathy teared up. Vincent stood in mute surprise.

“I do have to wonder what took you so long to introduce your young man to me. And now that you have, I don’t want you both to be strangers!”

Cathy gave a wan smile. Oh, no, she thought. What now?

“Kay and I would like you both to come to dinner Sunday next. What do you say?” Her father positively beamed with the idea and the opportunity.

"Well...unfortunately...you see...." Catherine stumbled, trying to think up an excuse.

Vincent saved her by demurring, "What Catherine is trying to tell you is that I will not be in the city. I leave tonight, in fact. And I'm unable to say when I'll return." He shrugged his broad shoulders, one hand lifted, palm up, indicating his inability to change his plans.

Charles' eyes narrowed. "What exactly do you do, that you have such a strange schedule?" His gaze raked Catherine then returned to settle on Vincent.

"He has a number of irons in the fire, Daddy," Catherine said. "His schedule is quite impossible to predict. I rarely get to see him myself, so please don't feel bad." She mustered a smile for her father.

"I see...." Charles replied, making it clear that he did NOT see, not at all. "Well, let's just say you have a standing invitation. Next time you're in town, you WILL come to dinner."

Vincent could do nothing but nod under his wilting stare. Suddenly he realized why Catherine had wanted to change their plans. Charles Chandler was even more formidable than his daughter, and now he was very suspicious.

Someone interrupted Charles before he could continue, and he turned to address the man.

Kay frantically waved them away behind Charles' back.

While wondering why Kay would help them like that, Catherine nevertheless used the opportunity of her father's lapse of attention to grab Vincent's hand and melt backwards into the crowd. Once they were out of Charles' eyesight, they turned and nearly ran from the large hall. Catherine would have to find another time to show Vincent the galleries. For now, escape was key.

They both breathed a deep sigh of relief once they exited the building and stood on its broad steps.

"Where shall we go?" Vincent asked.

"Somewhere peaceful!" Catherine answered heartily.

"Too many…people for you?"  Vincent asked, hiding a subtle smile.

“Yes.  Yes, there were.”  And immediately, Catherine became aware of how unfair trying to “hide” was, for him. "If you're here, there are just enough people with me," she amended her statement. 

She looked questioningly back the way they'd come.  "Do you want to go back in?  The art is beautiful, and I'd hate to think you'd lost the chance."

Blue eyes regarded her thoughtfully.  She looked beautiful.  And flustered.  And a little worried for him.  The latter was not a feeling he favored for her.

"I wish to be someplace that makes you happy," Vincent answered, watching her eyes dart from the famous art museum to the congested traffic on the street.  Costumed passersby clogged the sidewalk.

"Do you know where that might be?" he pressed.

"Have you ever toured the city by taxi, Vincent?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with pleasure at the prospect of giving him an experience that would be wholly new to him.

He tilted his head as one eyebrow raised slightly. “You know I haven’t, Catherine.”

“Let’s start with that then. Why don’t you hail one for us?”

His lips parted as this notion took hold. Never could he have imagined that he might do something so mundane and yet so extraordinary. He swallowed hard and looked beyond the pedestrians to the street where several cabs were slowly working their way down the road, their drivers’ sharp eyes scanning the crowd for fares.

He took her hand in his and strode determinedly toward the curb. He raised his other hand and called, “Taxi!”

Catherine heard the thrill in his rich, sweet voice.

A cab pulled over instantly, stopping right in front of them. Vincent opened its door and gestured for Catherine to precede him. When he crawled in beside her, he had to take her hand again, and she could feel his pulse beating there, fast and hard.

“Where to, folks?” The cabbie looked in his rear view mirror, making eye contact with Vincent, who turned to Catherine for an answer.

“My friend is from out of town,” Catherine told the driver, but was looking at Vincent. “How about Battery Park and we can work our way back from there.”

“So, where are you from?” asked the cabbie as he pulled into traffic.

“Ah, well… down….”

“A Southerner?” the cabbie jumped to a conclusion. “So, what do you think of our fair city?”

“I’ve seen it before,” Vincent answered as he looked at Catherine, “but the last time we were on foot.”

“With the threat of rain tonight, I thought that a cab would be a more prudent mode of transportation.”

Catherine settled back in the seat and turned her head to look at Vincent.

“Now tell me…where do you know Kay from?”

“What?” Vincent looked at her with surprise written all over his face. And he’d thought her father was formidable.

“You were surprised to see her, but you obviously know her from somewhere. Is she a Helper?”

Vincent had the grace to blush, but it was lost on Catherine. He simply nodded and waited for the onslaught of questions he knew was forthcoming.

"Kay - a Helper?  Why didn't you tell me! Why didn't she?" She paused mid-stream, then added, "Does Daddy know? He didn't seem to, though." Wheels were spinning in her head.

"Kay worked closely with another Helper early on, and has kept on all this time." Vincent hesitated, for to continue would change everything. "Catherine, a long time ago, your mother was a Helper."

Catherine's eyes widened, then she got the biggest smile Vincent had ever seen on her face. "Truly?! That's…that's…wonderful!" Her eyes filled with tears, then softened as memories filled her. "Did you…" She choked up and couldn't finish, but Vincent knew what she wanted to ask.

"Yes, I knew her. Not well, because she only came Below a few times. But I remember a lovely lady with a beautiful smile." He gazed at Catherine's face then added, "Just like yours."

"And Daddy never knew?" Her eyes gave way to tears and puzzlement.

"No. Although he funded many early improvements which your mother called ‘aid for the homeless’!" He smiled. "It was true, just not in the way he was thinking." He reached up to put a tendril of her hair back in place, and caressed the side of her face as he withdrew his hand. "I see that same skill in you."

"You do?"

"I do. You are your mother's daughter."

Catherine leaned against him in the cab, silent in thoughts about her mother, and Vincent wrapped his arm around her. The city flashed by, lit up in neon lights. Vincent absorbed the feeling along with the vision. Then he got an idea!

"Catherine, how about we go to...."

Before he could finish, and before she could answer, Vincent made a decision.

"Driver, make the next right, and stop halfway up the block, please."

Catherine thrilled at the sight of him suddenly taking command of their evening. She had no idea where he was taking her, but knew without a doubt that she would follow anywhere he wished to lead her…anytime he chose to go.

When the cab stopped, she handed the driver a bill that more than covered the cost of the ride while Vincent got out and held the door open for her. She only vaguely registered the cabbie's profuse thanks as she looked up to see Vincent standing in front of an ice cream shop.

"I've been waiting a long while to buy you one of these, Catherine," he said as he gestured toward the shop's door. "Shall we?"