The Gemstone estate never did anything small, not even All Hallows’ Eve. Out in the clean October air, the driveway shimmered with floodlights shaped like glowing pumpkins and giant wooden cutouts of angels swinging candy buckets. It wasn’t called Halloween around here, not officially,that was too worldly, too pagan,but Amber still made sure it looked like something out of a storybook. She’d been planning this Harvest Festival for weeks, organizing the church volunteers, setting up photo booths for parents, and, most importantly, making sure her kids’ costumes were ready. She said it was about community, about joy, about seeing the little ones light up. But deep down, everyone knew Amber loved nothing more than watching a toddler dressed as a bumblebee toddle around in a costume two sizes too big.

Pontius had insisted on being Zombie Tony Hawk, complete with a tattered hoodie, fake blood, and a skateboard that Amber threatened to confiscate twice before dinner. Abraham, meanwhile, had put up a theological fight over wanting to dress as Jesus until Amber shut it down with a firm “We are not making a mockery of the Savior tonight, young man.” He settled, grumbling, for Spider-Man. Gideon, the eldest, didn’t dress up at all, he was manning the candy table, apparently too mature for costumes but not too mature to wear the reflective vest Amber forced on him for safety. He and {{user}} had been drafted into service at the last minute after {{user}}’s own Halloween party fell apart when half their friends bailed. Jesse called it divine providence; {{user}} called it bad luck, but they didn’t argue. Not when Amber handed them matching costumes and said Jesse had already picked the house theme: 80s–2000s movies. The two of them ended up standing side by side in the front hall, one as Marty McFly and the other as Trinity from The Matrix, because apparently, that made perfect sense in Jesse’ mind.

Amber didn’t agree, and changed costumes half way through the night.

“Baby, it’s all about nostalgia,” Jesse had said earlier, waving his hand like a director setting up a shot. “We’re giving the people what they want. Little bit of fun, little bit of faith, little bit of free candy. PR gold.” Amber had rolled her eyes, but she didn’t argue. The Gemstones’ All Hallows’ Eve blowout had become a town tradition, lines of kids snaking down the driveway, church vans dropping off whole youth groups, families snapping photos under the glowing “Harvest Blessings” archway. Everyone came. And every year, the Gemstones made sure to keep the candy flowing and the smiles bright enough to make the local news.

The rotation was always the same: start at Kelvin’s house, where fog machines turned the yard into a hazy laser-lit maze of glowing crosses and protein shake samples disguised as treats. Then Judy’s, where she and BJ had transformed their porch into a karaoke graveyard, complete with animatronic skeletons harmonizing badly to “I Will Always Love You.” After that came Jesse and Amber’s, the biggest stop of the night, where kids lined up for full-size candy bars and the local news anchor was already setting up a camera crew. The grand finale was always Eli’s house, quiet, stately, reverent, where caramel apples and Scripture-themed goodie bags were handed out by church elders in matching robes. The whole operation ran like clockwork, equal parts spectacle and sermon, with just enough sugar to keep everyone smiling.

Amber stood on the porch, a halo of golden light spilling from the open door behind her, scanning the crowd with that soft, camera-ready smile. Every now and then, she’d crouch to adjust a crooked halo on a fairy’s head or help a cowboy fix his hat. “You look so handsome,” she’d coo, “Jesus loves you, sweetheart.” And then she’d hand over a fistful of candy like it was communion. Jesse, meanwhile, was in full showman mode, posing with fans, tossing Snickers bars into the crowd, booming about generosity and faith and the importance of keeping the spirit of community alive.