Last night's supper had been pleasant. A cold rain had fallen during the late afternoon, sending a dampness through the house. Margaret had declared that it was the kind of weather that demanded soup, and she and Allen had served soup, salad, and bread. The pumpkin-tomato bisque had a full flavor and nice warming effect, the gentle pumpkin complementing the tomato's acidity nicely. Spock found it so satisfying that he requested the recipe. He intended to pass it along to the Enterprise's galleymaster to enter it into the ship's food replicator programming.

Upon finishing supper and cleaning up, Allen and Margaret brought out a couple non-strategic board games that relied more on luck than skill. Nyota explained that the object of playing such games was not to exercise one's strategizing skills, but to enjoy the personal interaction over the game. With this perspective in mind, he found his human companions' reactions interesting as the game took its twists and turns. Somehow random tosses of the dice or card selections in turn prompted random memories, stories, and observations. Spock, who remained quiet because he could not keep himself from strategizing anyway, listened more than he spoke. Afterwards the four sat in the living room in front of the fireplace, conversing as Nyota scanned in more photos and Spock and Margaret supplied information about each one.

He had not spent an evening like this since leaving Vulcan for Starfleet those many years ago. He, his mother, and his father spent many evenings quietly resting in their sitting area or on the patio simply attending to quiet pursuits in each other's presence. Something about this was comforting, something he also had been missing for a very long time. His life had been so busy that he had not had time to even think about it. It was a pleasant situation to be in again.

His Vulcan mind gripped his thoughts, admonishing him at one point—pleasant or not, it should not matter. Spock could be doing more productive things, like reviewing the ship status reports that came in during the day. But he chose to ignore these thoughts. His reviews were not due for a couple days. He could attend to them in the morning. For now, he decided it was acceptable to "go with it."

Finally the inevitable yawning and drowsy stretching began as one by one Allen, Nyota, and Margaret decided it was time to sleep and left for their rooms. Spock was the last. Before retiring for the night, he stepped into the study and looked at the portrait again. An odd sense filled him, as if his mother's katra were present. Her eyes looked back at him in approval. It was illogical, as an image could do no such thing, but he found comfort nevertheless. After walking up the stairs and exchanging a lingering good-night embrace and kiss with Nyota in the hallway (she had insisted, after all), he entered his room, his heart and mind at peace. He was content.

He awoke, well-rested 6.1 hours later—a long period of slumber for him. Outside it was still dark, and he heard no sounds from the other inhabitants in the house. No matter, it was a good opportunity to review his waiting status reports and complete other administrative tasks in preparation for the Enterprise's departure 10 days hence. Signing off on the reports and transmitting them, he then changed from his pajamas into his Starfleet Academy sweatshirt and pants for his workout.

He did not leave immediately. Instead he waited until Nyota woke up and was ready for her own workout. Last night she mentioned that she needed to attend to physical conditioning, especially after the wine and chocolates she had indulged in that day. He wanted to accompany her. There would be no miscommunications today.

Nyota was not surprised to see Spock waiting outside her door, gloves and cap in hand, when she emerged. Perfectionist that he was in everything—his work, his duty, or their relationship—he would not allow a repeat of yesterday's episode. She was glad.

"Good morning, Ashayam. Ready to go?" she asked.

He nodded, and the two walked down the stairs, out the front door, and onto the street where they started a slow jog to the trail access.

-o0o-

The weather was dreary, a dismal cloudiness and dampness from the previous night's rain. Although the rain had ceased, a mist hung in the air. It was like San Francisco on a colder morning, with the fog hanging more persistently than usual. Spock and Nyota returned to the house dampened but, thanks to their physical exertion, not chilled. Even so, Margaret ushered them into the kitchen for mugs of hot tea. Nyota took the first turn through the shower while Spock, Margaret, and Allen ate some breakfast.

"Are you sure that I can't convince you to dress up for tonight's party?" Margaret asked Spock lightly, knowing full well that he would not accept. "It's all part of the experience, you know."

Spock was getting used to her jocular prodding, which was much like his mother's and Nyota's. Instead of dignifying her inquiry with a verbal response, he tilted his head at a forward angle and rose an eyebrow, looking back at her.

Margaret burst out laughing. "Well, I had to try…. Allen says that since you he won't, he won't either."

"It's costume-optional, Margaret," Allen said. "And if he were Sarek, you wouldn't be asking him to dress up."

Margaret laughed harder, and both eyebrows reached the bottom of Spock's bangs. Their twin expressions of astonishment at the mental image of Sarek in a Halloween costume sent Allen over the edge and he laughed harder than Margaret did. Spock recovered first and went back to eating his oatmeal porridge.

"Sorry, Spock, I don't mean to offend," Allen said. "Random thoughts…."

"No offense taken," Spock stated. "A question, however."

"Yes?"

"What appeal does attiring oneself so hold?"

"You mean, why do people like dressing up for Halloween?" Margaret clarified.

"Yes."

"Oh, let me see," Margaret began, starting a train of thought. "First, it breaks the monotony of day-to-day living. It's just fun to wear something different. Second, it gives you the chance to exercise your imagination. You can imagine yourself in a different life or a different time. Nyota and I will be dressing as Renaissance women. It's fun to see what we might look like had we lived in that era. Many people dress up as heroes and legends, like Robin Hood or Migara of Antares."

Spock could understand Margaret's explanation in theory. There were, however, costumes that did not fit this explanation. "Why would one wish to imagine oneself as a box of cereal?"

"What?" Margaret laughed.

"Last Halloween I encountered a cadet attired as such," he said. "I also observed many depictions of severed limbs, heads, or disemboweled entities. Why would one wish to imagine oneself in such circumstances?"

"Humor and shock value," said Allen. "The cereal box was supposed to be funny, and the guy in it wanted to make people laugh. The more scary and gruesome costumes are meant to get a reaction out of folks. We humans seem to get a charge out of watching each other's reactions. And the more extreme reaction you get, the more satisfying it is. Some people do go a bit overboard, though. I've seen some really disgusting costumes in my time. But most of it is for fun."

Spock paused a moment, as if he were weighing a couple revelations. "By these parameters, I do not require a costume; 88.23 percent of humans have intense reactions to my appearance." It was a statement. Spock resumed eating his oatmeal.

Margaret felt bad for him. It had to be hard being different from every other being in the universe. "Well…you could take a different approach, Spock. You could disguise yourself as just another human in a Halloween costume at a party. You'd see what it's like to be ignored as just a member of the crowd."

Spock looked up. He never knew what it was like to remain anonymous, even on Vulcan where, despite his appearance, his human heritage was the object of interest. "That is intriguing. Perhaps on another occasion."

If he were going to meet members of his mother's family, this was not the time to try this kind of venture. However, it could be an interesting experiment in the future. He would need to consider the prospect further.

"If you did, what costume would you choose?" Allen asked. "Just curious."

Spock allowed himself to look at the ceiling. It was as close to rolling his eyes as he got. "Not a leprechaun, not Dracula, nor an elf—neither Christmas nor Tolkeinesque," he stated evenly.

Allen and Margaret broke out laughing. "I take it that these have been suggested to you," Allen guessed.

"By my first Academy roommate when I was a cadet and several others since," Spock affirmed.

"Sounds like he was a pain in the butt," said Allen.

Spock remained diplomatically silent, taking another sip of tea.

"First roommate?"

"He dropped out after the first semester," Spock said. "I was assigned another."

"Who dropped out after the first semester?" Nyota entered the kitchen, fresh from her shower and dressed.

"Cadet Remson."

"That roommate you won't talk about?" Nyota shook her head. "Spock never says anything about that guy, so he had to be awful."

"He was not suited for a Starfleet career," said Spock. "His 'talents' were best applied elsewhere."

"Spoken like a true instructor," Allen observed.

Spock took the last sip of tea, got up, and brought his empty mug and bowl to the sink for washing. It was his turn for the shower. He nodded to the other three and exited.

"Nyota, I'll heat up some oat porridge for you," said Margaret. "While that's going, do you want to pick out a costume?"

"Sure!"

Nyota followed Margaret to the master bedroom and into the walk-in closet. Hanging along a corner rail were eight different Renaissance-style dresses in various colors.

"Wow! These are great." Nyota fingered the purple velvet of one garment. "Why do you have so many?"

"I help my friends sell their art at Renaissance festivals, and I have to dress up. I hate to wear the same thing all the time. I've added a new dress every year or two, so now I have eight. Now, let's look at you…we're close to the same size, and these dresses have some adjustment to them. I'm sure any of them would work. Take your pick."

-o0o-

Early evening arrived, and it was time to leave for the Halloween party. Nyota had chosen Margaret's dark green princess dress. Because Nyota chose a more formal dress, Margaret selected a similarly fashioned dress in purple velvet. They would be royalty, not wenches.

When Spock and Nyota descended the stairs on the way to the foyer, Allen looked at them and laughed. "Oh, don't you two look cute."

The two exchanged confused expressions.

"You're wearing the same color."

Spock's sweater was, indeed, the same deep green as Nyota's dress. Nyota laughed—this was the kind of thing that Gaila would have noticed. She did not expect it from Allen.

"Our coordination was not intentional," Spock stated. "Is this undesirable?"

"No, but don't be surprised if you get teased about it," Allen said.

"Yes, Allen, as you're doing now," Margaret pointed out. "Quit picking on them, and let's get into the skimmer. We're running late."

"And whose fault is that? You're the one who had a few more touches on Spock's portrait."

"Well, you can't interrupt the creative process, not when I'm on a roll," she returned.

Spock and Nyota already had their coats on and were out the door. Allen and Margaret followed them into the vehicle, and they promptly began the trip to Cousin Janelle's. On the way, Spock and Nyota noted the Halloween window displays in many homes. As dusk faded to night, the bright orange and purple lights offered an eerie glow. Many homes had set up yard displays with pumpkins, headstones, ghosts, scarecrows, skeletons, witches…. They made the trip more interesting.

Soon the car slowed as Allen turned down a more residential area. Like many houses in the area, these homes were of vintage style, but bigger—mansions, actually, with grand lawns and ironwork fences and gates. Allen pulled up before one of the grander homes, a Victorian-style mansion whose yard was decorated along the same Halloween themes seen earlier, but with more artistically arranged, higher-quality props and sets. Pumpkin-shaped lanterns adorned the trees and orange, purple, and green luminarias lined the long brick walk, up the steps to the home's wide columned verandah and stately entrance. Giant spiders occupied giant webs stretched between several of the columns. Two scarecrows seated on a bench on the verandah greeted visitors. Lighted jack-o-lanterns greeted from behind the glass of the windows, behind which many of Janelle's guests already mingled. Speakers in the trees howled out ghostly sounds, yowling cats, and creaking doors.

Spock took in the various dioramas and Halloween embellishments. He had been to many planets on Sarek's missions or as a member of a landing party, but few times had he seen anything like this.

Nyota sensed that his mind was on overload. "Just go with it," she reminded him with an amused whisper.

"What was that, Nyota?" Margaret asked.

"Uh, nothing…. It's interesting that your cousin's name is Janelle because this is just like something out of a Janelle Devereaux book."

Margaret and Allen laughed. "Oh, my cousin is Janelle Devereaux," said Margaret. "That's her pen name anyway. She's just plain old Janelle Grayson to us."

"Janelle Devereaux? Really?" Nyota exclaimed. "Wow, my mother is a big fan! She has all her gardening books. She really likes the rose garden volumes!"

Spock was confused. What was he missing now?

Margaret noticed and explained. Janelle Devereaux was well-known all over Earth as a lifestyle guru. Janelle Grayson's alter ego had produced many volumes on crafts, food, gardening, and general entertaining. Her company offered lines of crafting materials, cookware, and gardening tools. It was a lifestyle empire geared toward bringing a homemade, creative, personal touch to a world where replication had imparted an impersonal ubiquity to everyday living.

"She even has a holovid program that runs weekly. I'm surprised that you've never seen it," Margaret said.

"I have," Nyota said. "When I'm home visiting Mama. But I never had time at the Academy, and we don't get her program over Starfleet entertainment bursts to the Enterprise."

"Maybe she'll make a contribution to our brave men and women of the Fleet," Margaret said. "Spock, I know that Janelle sent copies of her program to Amanda, but that was probably well after you came to Earth. You probably should know that your mother had a hand in this. Amanda inspired Janelle's interest in gardening by having her help out with the Mayo Clinic gardens. She also brought Janelle to an embassy ball once, which is what got Janelle interested in entertaining. Janelle just took off from there."

Spock remained distracted by the plethora of decorations. "I will need to acquaint myself further with her endeavors," he said. Although he did not understand the need for such adornments, he did appreciate the craftsmanship behind much of it. Few embellishments of this type would have found application on Vulcan, however.

The foursome ascended the steps to the front door. Spock looked more closely at one of the scarecrows when suddenly, in his peripheral vision, he saw a black object dropping and dropping quickly. It was plummeting toward Nyota's head!

Reflexively, Spock's arms flew, and his fist batted at the object, hitting it squarely. Thud!

"AAACCCKKK!" screamed the black blob.

Spock crouched in a defensive position, eyeing the screaming object at it flew away. Nyota froze by his side in a protective stance, ready to cover his back.

"Aaaaacckkk-ack-ack-ak-ak!" the blob continued to scream as it took a trajectory over the verandah railing and into a low hedge in the front yard. They heard an impact against branches and leaves in the dark.

The next sound was Allen's hysterical laughter. Margaret glared, but Allen could not stop. Tears appeared in his eyes. He howled and hugged his stomach, then had to sit down because he could no longer stand.

"Allen!" Margaret hissed. "This isn't funny!"

Nyota and Spock relaxed, recognizing that the "danger" had passed. What had just happened?

"Oh, gawd, yes it is…!" Allen wheezed. "We've just b-b-been defended b-b-by Starfleet's finest…against Janelle's giant spider!" He descended into more gales of laughter. "That stupid spider! I've wanted to do th-th-the same thing for years!"

"Grow up!" Margaret said, nudging him with her foot. "And get up!"

Allen started to settle down, but was set off again when Nyota joined him, giggling at the absurdity.

Spock straightened. So, the spider was an annual prank. Typical. "I will retrieve the device," he said, disappearing into the yard. Based on the force of impact, estimated trajectory, and his better night vision, Spock did not anticipate much difficulty in locating its position.

Allen managed to get back to his feet when the front door opened. The woman who opened it had a kind face, shoulder-length layered dark brown hair, bright blue eyes, and an elegant, though not-quite-aristocratic manner. She was dressed in a sparkling lavender Fairy Godmother costume, complete with crown and wand.

"Margaret, Allen…what's going on? I thought I heard something. When did you get here?" she asked.

Allen burst out laughing again when Spock emerged from the darkness holding the giant spider. The Vulcan innocently held it up for inspection.

"I do believe that your animatronic arachnid appears…uninjured," he said calmly.

To prove his point, he tripped the device's sensor.

"AAACCCKKK!" it screamed as eight eyes flashed in red and eight legs flailed. "Aaaaacckkk-ack-ack-ak-ak!"

The four humans all laughed, even Margaret and their host, who wondered how her spider ended up in the yard.

Spock tilted his head. "My apologies," he said to the Fairy Godmother. "Cousin Janelle, I presume?"


Author's Note: Here's a "Janelle Devereaux-style" value-added bonus…the recipe for the pumpkin-tomato soup that our main characters enjoyed for dinner.

AASHLEE'S PUMPKIN-TOMATO SOUP

Pumpkin and tomatoes—in a soup? I know this sounds strange, but it's very, very good. I had a pumpkin-tomato soup at a party once, loved it, so I figured out how to make it. This is a perfect autumn soup.

1 large onion, cut in 1-inch chunks
2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 tsp. ground black pepper
2 15-ounce cans chicken or vegetable broth
1 15-ounce can pumpkin (must be plain pumpkin, not the pie filling seasoned with cinnamon, nutmeg, etc.) OR 2 cups cooked pumpkin, mashed
1 15-ounce can diced tomatoes
salt to taste
cream (optional) served on the side

In a large kettle, heat oil and cook onion until translucent and slightly carmelized. Add pepper and broth, bring to a boil, cover, then let simmer about 15-20 minutes. Then take out onions, put them in a blender along with about a cup of the broth, then whirl until liquified. Add this back into the kettle of broth. Add pumpkin and diced tomatoes (juice and all). Bring to a boil, then let simmer another 15 minutes. Add salt to taste.

This soup is good as it is, or you can add a tablespoon of cream to individual bowls of soup for a different taste experience. It is great either way.

If you like a little more spice, you can add dashes of pepper, pepper sauce, or curry when you add the broth. This recipe is a nice base for customization. Bon appétit!