On the contrary, her smile reaches up into her eyes for just a moment when he mimics the words she used, and she says them again - more slowly this time - so he can hear them properly before she answers. So he can have a prayer of working them out.

"My mother taught me. She moved up to Texas from Mexico, where it's a much bigger holiday than Halloween. She said it was about family, and coming together," she explains, setting her fork down so she can get up from the table and cross the short distance to the display.

"It's the one night a year the world of the dead and the living are close enough to touch, and those you've lost can come be with you again. The four elements are here - salt from the earth, the skull banners flutter in the air, water in the glass, fire in the candle - flowers to honor those who have died. Normally there are pictures, too, but - I don't have any." She presses her lips together, reaching to straighten one of the marigolds in its place. "Different people put up different offerings to give the spirits strength for the journey. The candle guides them home and lights their way back again so they aren't trapped. The gifts can be tailored to your loved ones - a favorite sweet, or an instrument, or a piece of jewelry."

She's chosen a shot of the whiskey for hers. She figures if Abraham did go through the trouble of making the journey all the way here, he'd like that better than water.

"I don't know how much I believe in it, but it's... nice. And Mama believed."