The dilemma was Halloween. In Idaho Springs if you didn’t dress up people asked if you had been ill. Ricky’s trademark costume was a witch with long spider web fingernails and a hat that made it hard to walk through the average doorway, but last year the hat had blown off and landed in the street where it was trampled by a guy on a Vespa that was covered in orange lights. So now she had no hat, and you couldn’t be a proper witch without one. She was feeling a little panicked because tonight was the night that the Main Street businesses would be open for trick or treating and general milling around. Asta was serving her “Creepy Caldron Coffee” that came with a plastic spider on the side of the cup, Josh and Michelli would be handing out miniature whoopee pies with cobweb frosting, and the brewery had some sort of bat-wing brew for patrons to sample. Ricky made jewelry, all by hand with semi-precious stones and some intricate detail. Trick or treaters to her studio would get their name in a drawing for a chance to win her onyx and coral pendant that she had just completed. She called it “Black Heart” in keeping with the holiday. She was expecting a crowd and couldn’t greet them without a costume. That’s when she decided to go to the new consignment store and get a dress and possibly a wig that could make her look like her great Aunt Pearl. She would put on too bright lipstick and tuck a hanky into her cleavage, and her witch shoes could easily double as Aunt Pearl footwear. She ran across the street into the store, and there he was-the Ryan Reynolds guy, behind the counter. She should have looked more closely at the card he gave her where it said he was the proprietor of “Repeat Performance”, the new consignment shop in town. He was wearing a dark gray sweatshirt and jeans, and he looked like he belonged. Ricky pulled his card out of her coat pocket and looked at his name. If you were going to buy an old ladies dress from someone, it was only right to introduce yourself.