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“I look like my head’s falling over.”

“That’s a fair criticism.”

I removed several pins and adjusted the support.

The second attempt held much better.

She directed the placement of the white clip-in streaks, rejecting my first suggestion because she wanted them to curve upward with the dark hair rather than hang beside her face.

I followed her instructions.

When we finished, she stood in front of the full-length mirror wearing her light-colored dress, pale makeup, and towering black-and-white hair.

She slowly turned to examine the effect from both sides.

Then she looked at me.

“Dad?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I look awesome.”

I laughed.

“You certainly do.”

She hurried across the room and hugged me again, careful not to press her painted cheek against my shirt.

I held her close, then stepped back to take a picture.

She posed with her chin lifted and one hand crooked dramatically in front of her.

“Can you send that to Mary-Kate?”

“Absolutely.”

I took several more pictures while she experimented with different expressions. In one, she looked suitably sinister. In another, she was laughing so hard that the entire hairstyle leaned slightly forward.

I liked that one best.

When she was satisfied, I helped her adjust a loose pin and made sure the makeup wasn’t irritating her skin.

“There’s one more thing I’d like to show you,” I said.

We went out to the detached workshop, where the late-afternoon light was beginning to fade through the windows.

Sienna had been inside before, but she’d never spent much time looking at the worktables or the covered pieces along the far wall. Most of what she’d seen of my old work had been at Factory of Screams.

I switched on the lights and led her toward the finishing bench.

The little orange paper flower she’d made at Fall Fest sat safely on a high shelf, well away from the paint and tools.

She noticed it immediately.

“You kept it!”

“Of course I did. You told me the workshop needed something pretty.”