Nola grinned suddenly. “I’d say you have a better-than-average chance. Now, I didn’t have time to go shopping for a present, but I’d like to give you this.” She pulled a Mason jar from the blue gift bag with a flourish. An empty Mason jar.
Danny, who had been schooled thoroughly on the proper response to presents—any present—glanced up at me and smiled very sweetly before responding, “Thank you very much, Miss Nola. I can use it to catch lightning bugs.”
Nola offered him an approving pat on the head. “Well, what lovely manners you have, birthday boy. And it’s funny that you mention lightning bugs, because this jar contains a night-light.”
Nola put her hands over the jar and closed her eyes. She seemed to be muttering something under her breath, but even my keen vampire ears couldn’t make sense of the words. A warm, golden-green glow fluttered to life inside the jar, reflecting brightly in the blue depths of Danny’s eyes.
“Whoa,” he whispered. “What is that?”
“A very special night-light,” Nola told him solemnly. “Whenever you are in your room and trying to fall asleep, it will glow until you drift off. But be very careful with it. If you break the jar, it won’t work anymore.”
“How did you do that?” he asked.
“An old family trick,” she said. “Take good care of it, OK?”
He nodded, carefully cradling the jar to his chest and running up the stairs toward his room. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you!”
“How did you do that?” I asked her.
“Old family trick,” Nola repeated with a shrug. “Will you excuse me? I need to go talk to my wayward boyfriend for a moment.”
“Sure.” I watched her walk away and wondered what exactly she meant by “old family trick.” Was she a witch? A fairy? Were there other supernatural creatures out there besides vampires? It stood to reason that if we were real, there were other beasties out there, lurking in the dark. Maybe Danny’s claims to have seen Bigfoot weren’t so impossible after all.
I shuddered as the doorbell rang, and I opened it, expecting more undead revelers. Imagine my surprise to find Wade the Cranky Janitor standing at my door, cheerfully wrapped present in hand, standing behind the little boy my son had dragged around like a rag doll on school registration night.
What the hell?
My jaw dropped, and fortunately, I was left unable to say anything to hurt the little boy’s feelings. Wade’s eyes narrowed before he smirked at me. “Crazy closet lady.”
“Of course.” I saluted him. “Cranky maintenance man.”
“Charlie!” Danny cried, running across the living room and throwing his arms around his friend. “You came!”
The little boy grinned and hugged Danny. “Yeah! I’m excited! I’ve never been to a sleepover party before.”
“I’m real sorry we’re late,” Wade said. “Harley was having a problem with his inhaler, and we had to make a last-minute visit to his doctor. I didn’t want to take any chances before a sleepover. I’ve got his sleepin’ bag and stuff in the truck. I thought I’d keep ’em there for a while. Give him a chance to bow out graceful-like if he changes his mind about sleepin’ over. This is new territory for him.”
I eyed Wade carefully. What did he mean by that? Was he really concerned about his son’s big-boy face? Or did he not want his son sleeping at my house because he didn’t want to leave him in my care? He had to have known whose house he was coming to when he saw the invitation. Oddly enough, I didn’t remember filling out an invitation for a “Harley.”
“Danny, I thought you said your friend’s name was Charlie.”
“I thought it was, too,” Danny said as he helped Harley shove a straw into a chilled Capri Sun. “By the time I figured out I was wrong, I was used to calling him Charlie, so I stuck with that.”
I turned to Harley, smoothing the strawlike blond cowlick from the back of his head. “Why didn’t you correct him, hon?”
Harley shrugged and sipped his juice. “I didn’t wanna hurt his feelings.”
“You don’t have to let someone call you the wrong name to be polite, Harley.”
“Oh, OK,” Harley said, nodding his head as if this was a big revelation.
“And Danny, make an effort to call him by the correct name. How would you feel if someone called you Fanny every day?”
Danny’s face twisted in disgust. “Ew, no.”
Harley snickered. “Fanny.”
Danny pointed a finger at Harley’s face. “Don’t even think about it.”