Gingerbread Man

from the table she'd commandeered to where the two of them stood, gazes locked. "Holly was getting impatient, wondering where you were."
    That was enough to make Holly break eye contact. She jerked her gaze toward her mother and felt her face heat. "I was not."
    Vince could have smirked at her, but he didn't. He shifted his feet, maybe a little uncomfortable. "Sorry I'm late, Ms. Newman."
    "Doris, please. And there's no need to apologize."
    "Doris," he said. "And there is. I had some errands to run, and it took longer than I expected."
    "Have you had any luck tracking down your library book bandit?" She asked the question, Holly thought, as if he were chasing down an armed bank robber, and it was the most interesting case in the history of criminal justice.
    "None at all." He worked up a smile for her. Holly thought his smiles always looked as if they took effort to produce. "Fortunately, it doesn't matter, since I'm on vacation."
    "So you keep insisting," Holly muttered.
    He glanced at her sharply, about to say something rude, she was sure, but then his eyes widened on something beyond her, distracting him. "You're shitting me. Is that who it looks like?"
    Holly turned to follow his gaze, and spotted the town's reclusive celebrity settling into his lawn chair, as his niece draped a blanket over his shoulders. He'd barely got himself seated before several children made a beeline for him. He was surrounded in a matter of seconds. "You didn't know Reginald D'Voe lived out here?" Holly asked.
    He shot her a glance. "I knew he had a place here, years ago, but I read that he moved to the west coast."
    "You never would have struck me as a fawning fan, Vince," she said, fighting a smile.
    His brows creased. "I don't fawn." Still, it was the first time she'd seen him lose that preoccupied scowl of his. "I grew up on horror flicks, though, and I think he starred in most of them. I was planning to drive by his house while I was out here, just to see what it looked like."
    "It looks like something out of
Scooby Doo,
just about like you'd expect, I suppose. It's that creepy-looking one on the hill." Holly pointed across the lake, to where the house loomed, its windows dark, its shape like a phantom against the night sky.
    "Of course it is," he said, shaking his head as if he should have guessed.
    Doris chimed in, "Reggie's something of a recluse, you know."
    "Yes, I know, I read that somewhere, too."
    "You're right that he moved away. Oh, it must have been fifteen years ago, give or take. But he never sold the place. He and his niece only moved back here the year before last." Then she nudged her daughter. "Hon, take Vince over and introduce him to Reggie."
    Holly sighed. "Okay, just don't go asking for an autograph or fussing. He doesn't like it. Frankly, I'm surprised he even showed up for this."
    "So am I. The celebrity scandal sheets make him sound borderline agoraphobic."
    "They exaggerate," she said, looking at him in surprise. "You really are a fan, aren't you?"
    "Not a fanatical one. But, yeah, if I see his name on the cover I'll usually buy the magazine and read the article. And I have several of his films on DVD. Not the full collection or anything, but..." He shrugged.
    She thought he seemed almost embarrassed to admit to having followed the old actor's career, and it did seem a little out of character. But somehow, it made him seem a little more human. A little less intimidating. She walked across the sand with O'Mally at her side. A little too close, maybe. She wouldn't have minded, if he had been anyone else. But she seemed to feel his closeness more than she felt anyone else's.
    "He's really not the hermit the press makes him out to be," she said, just to get conversation going again. She didn't like silence as a rule. Less so with him nearby. "He's reinstating his annual Halloween party for the kids this year, you know."
    As she spoke, little Bethany Stevens climbed up onto Reggie's lap.
    Vince stopped walking suddenly, and when Holly looked at him, his expression was hard and cold as he stared at Reggie. "He likes kids, does he?"
    Startled, Holly studied him. What was that in his voice, just then? It hadn't sounded like a casual question. "It's not the kind of thing they'd play up in the press," she said at last. "Not in keeping with his dark, menacing image, I suppose. But yes, Reggie loves kids. They say he always has."

SIX
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    "ACCORDING TO LOCAL gossip, he's always loved kids," Holly went on. "Aunt Jen