Leaves by Michael Baron Page A

each child swore silence. Best of all, the kids all got to stay home from school on October thirtieth to help with the final preparations.
    It was during this time that Maxwell perceived in some sense the value of his siblings as a unit for the first time. Maria, ten, could be trusted to handle certain arrangements over the telephone and she served as unofficial entertainment director. Deborah, six, offered outspoken advice on candy and beverages, and even figured out how to make ghost treats out of marshmallows. Corrina, only three, insisted on drawing pictures and placing them strategically throughout the inn. Tyler had only begun to crawl that October and was at once the least prominent member of the family and the center of attention. Maxwell remembered a friend of his mother’s suggesting that maybe it was unwise to hold a party of this magnitude with a baby in the house, but his mother simply dismissed such talk. She was so tickled with the idea of doing this.
    Once he got past his initial trepidation, Maxwell found himself swept into the spirit of the event. One afternoon, he heard his parents worrying that no one would show up and he appointed himself the role of promotion director. He tapped classmates, older siblings of friends, teachers, and even local shop owners to help him publicize the event. He commissioned a handful of his cronies to play a role in certain activities without letting them know exactly what those activities would be – further increasing the sense of anticipation.
    When the day arrived, it was clear that Halloween at the Sugar Maple Inn was an event for the ages as far as Oldham was concerned. The place was crowded within minutes after they opened the door at six o’clock and was still packed for the final “haunting” at ten. Two of the workers at the inn had come down sick that day, and it all could have been overwhelming to do this short-staffed, but again the kids came through. Maria operated the tape player and organized the children’s events. Deborah transported trays of appetizers and kept the punch bowl filled. Maxwell served double duty at the coat check and as supervisor of the “spook chamber” (as one of the downstairs guest rooms had been renamed). Even little Corrina served a hugely important role by playing with Tyler, allowing the babysitter to fill in elsewhere.
    That Maxwell’s friends (and he would later learn, much of the town) continued to talk about the party weeks later was satisfying enough. That the event put the inn on the map regionally was something he didn’t understand at the time. But what he remembered the most – and so many of the images were still so strong, but this was the strongest – was the way the family sat together in the common room after everyone else had gone. Tyler was asleep in Maria’s arms and Deborah was sprawled out semiconscious on one of the couches, but all seven of them were together at nearly midnight, even though there was school the next day.
    â€œBethie, this was a crazy idea,” his father said from an armchair.
    â€œIt was, wasn’t it?” his mother said, gathering Corrina up next to her. “Do it again next year?”
    â€œHell, yes!”
    Maxwell and Maria laughed. Deborah grunted something that sounded like assent.
    â€œYou kids were great tonight,” his father said. “Real clutch performers. This whole thing might have been a disaster without you.” Maxwell remembered his father looking him squarely in the eye at that point and nodding to him, sending a little electric charge of pride through his young soul.
    â€œWe’d better get you kids to bed so you can get some sleep,” his mother said, at which point Deborah snored loudly to indicate that such formalities were hardly necessary.
    Now sitting in the reception area of the offices of the Oldham Post , Maxwell couldn’t help thinking about how much had changed in the thirty years