Free 'Tis the Season by Judith Arnold Page A

he hadn’t bothered with a jacket. The car heated up well.
    As he drove to the end of his block, he tried to think of a conversational gambit, then gave up. He had legitimate questions, pressing concerns, and he didn’t want to waste what little time he had with her on small talk. “I need to know what happened tonight,” he said. He also needed to know what was happening right now in his car, but he didn’t expect her to explain that. She might not even be aware that anything was happening. It might not be happening to her.
    â€œI was sitting in my living room, listening to some harpsichord music on the stereo and sipping a glass of wine, when I noticed your children spying through mywindow,” she said, making it sound like the most normal, mundane event in the world.
    â€œSpying through your window? Like Peeping Toms? I don’t believe it.” He sighed and shook his head. “I mean, I do believe it. I just don’t like it. I don’t know what got into them, doing something like that.”
    â€œThe house is big and old and kind of odd. I guess they discovered it while it was still empty, and it intrigued them.”
    The way its current resident intrigued their father, he thought, deeply unsettled by just how much she intrigued him. “You recently moved in, then?”
    â€œSunday morning,” she said.
    The kids had been out exploring Sunday afternoon, he recalled. And they’d come home and acted strange. “Were you in the house Sunday afternoon?”
    â€œYes, why?”
    â€œI think my kids were there then. They must have seen you and taken you for a ghost or something.”
    â€œTonight they took me for a witch,” she said. “At least, Gracie did.”
    He glanced her way and found her smiling. “You don’t find that insulting?”
    â€œNow that they’ve met me, they don’t seem to think I’m a witch anymore.” She settled back in the seat and gazed at him. Even when he was watching the road, he could feel her eyes on him. What did she see? he wondered. A scruffy man at the end of a long day? A harried dad? A neglectful poker player? The kind of parent who raised Peeping Toms?
    â€œI’m really sorry they bothered you,” he said, stopping at the corner and turning to her.
    She dismissed his apology with a laugh. “I’m not sorryand they didn’t bother me. It’s lonely all by myself in that house. I was delighted that they came to visit. I just wish they had come at a reasonable hour.”
    â€œReally? You want them to visit?”
    â€œIs that a problem?” she asked, her smile fading.
    â€œNo, not at all.” At least, he didn’t think it was a problem. He hardly knew this woman, though. He shouldn’t automatically trust her enough to let his children visit her. “Where did you move here from?” he asked casually, steering around the corner.
    â€œManhattan.”
    She must be one of the rich city folks who bought vacation retreats in the Arlington area. They mostly settled west of town, not in Evan’s hilly north-side neighborhood, but why else would an attractive young woman buy a house in Arlington?
    Actually, he could think of lots of reasons. For example, maybe she had a husband who’d been transferred to the area. “Are you married?” he asked, then realized what a tactless question that was. He hastened to remedy any offense she might have taken. “I’m just wondering why you left New York City to move into a haunted house. If you’ve got family here or something…”
    Her mood seemed to change, her smile losing its alluring radiance. “No family, but I did grow up in the house.”
    That would explain it, he supposed. “I’m sorry if you thought I was being nosy, but…well, I just worry about the kids, that’s all.”
    â€œI understand.” But her smile didn’t return.
    He turned onto