Ghost for Sale. Sandra Cox

glistening granite countertop.

      “Vel, what’s wrong?” Aunt Janet, barely five-two in her stocking feet, reached Vel first and put her arm around her.

      “The gravy boat floated through the air.” Vel’s finger trembled as she pointed at the delicate china.

      “Vel, have you been drinking again?” Uncle Leon ran a hand through graying chestnut hair, still thick and wavy.

      Liam leaned up against the refrigerator with his arms crossed. “Reflex. She started to drop the gravy boat. I caught it.” He lifted his hands in an “it wasn’t my fault” gesture.

      Sure enough, gravy had sloshed over the side and dripped on the counter. “What are you doing here?”

      Dad, who stood closest to me, frowned. “What did you say, Cat?”

      Liam glanced at Dad, then back at me. “I was snapped like a puppet on a string. One minute, I’m watching the news.” His features relaxed in a sweet smile. “I love your picture box. The next, poof, I’m pulled here. Seems we can’t be too far apart.”

      “Cat, what did you say, and why are you staring at the refrigerator?” Dad asked again. His gaze narrowed as he studied me. Dad was an independent reporter, a very good one. He hadn’t won Pulitzers for nothing. When it came to news, he had the nose of a bloodhound. The last thing I needed was my father scenting a story.

      My shoulders twitched. Nerves jumped under my skin. “Must be because I’m hungry. What’s the gravy boat doing here instead of at the table?”

      “Caitlin Lee, that’s rude.” Mom looked disapproving.

      “Sorry, I was just making a joke.” I brushed at a small potato lump on my skirt that had bounced from a spoon when we all made a dash for the kitchen.

      “Maybe it was the ghost,” Marcy joked before she clapped a hand over her mouth.

      My jaw dropped. Liam and I stared at each other. He recovered first and had the audacity to wink at me. I frowned a warning. Though warning against what was a good question. No one could see him except me, unless he decided to pick up another gravy boat.

      Uncle Leon turned to Marcy and sighed. “What are you talking about, darling?”

      “Don’t worry, Daddy. I’m getting a full refund,” she rushed to explain.

      “Refund?” Uncle Leon’s voice sounded hollow. He tucked his hands in his pants and rocked on his heels.

      At least my father had turned his attention from me to Marcy. The twitch between my shoulders eased.

      “They had ghosts for sale on eBay, and I was the top bidder,” she explained proudly. Marcy was such a riot.

      “And what price did you get them for?” Uncle Leon asked, his eyebrows raised, his lips pursed.

      “It doesn’t matter. I sent them back. They were empty test tubes, and one of them was broken.” She looked aggrieved. “The money should be back in my account next week.”

      “How much?” Though still calm, he’d developed a tic in his left cheek. Oh, dear.

      “Only six.” Marcy smiled brightly and brushed at her skirt.

      “Six what, Marcia?” Uncle Leon only called her Marcia when he was on the verge of a meltdown.

      Marcy cleared her throat. “Six thousand.”

      “You spent six thousand dollars on broken test tubes?” His low voice carried more weight than a bellow.

      Marcy and I looked at each other. She swallowed and shifted on her stilettos. Before she could open her mouth, I jumped, figuratively, into the fray. “You can’t put too high a price on a soul.” I plastered a pious expression on my face, or at least tried to.

      Uncle Leon gave me a pained look. “I understand this from my daughter. But I expected better from you.”

      “Why?” My mother shot me a withering glance. “You know these two have been partners in crime since they could toddle. If one was doing mischief, you could be sure the other was as well.”

      Partners in crime.

      Guilt assailed me. I really should tell Marcy about Liam. At least I’d diverted some of Uncle Leon’s wrath from her; I consoled myself.

      My uncle turned to his only child and pointed his finger. “For sheer stupidity, you’ve outdone yourself. I expect your credit cards on my desk after lunch. I’ll return them at the end of the month.”

      Uh-oh.

      Marcy’s azure eyes widened till they filled her face. “But that’s over two weeks away, and there’s a sale at…” Her voice trailed off as she took note of the alarming shade of red on her father’s handsome features. “Of course, Daddy.”

      Her father swiveled in my direction. “And you, young lady, are not to pick up the slack.”

      I nodded. The word slack could be loosely interpreted.

      “I’m sorry. I should have let the silly thing fall,” Liam apologized. He had his jacket back on. His paisley cream vest fit his rangy body to perfection. The high-notched collar didn’t look comfortable, but it did add a touch of elegance.

      I nodded. At least this time I had the presence of mind to keep my mouth shut. My shoulders prickled again. Stiff as the proverbial board, I turned my head toward my father. Eyes narrow, he studied me as if I were a bug in a science project.

      This was so not good.

      Dad’s gaze swung to the stainless steel refrigerator where mine had been moments before. Liam met his glance and straightened.

      “I tell you that gravy boat floated through the air.” Vel’s ample bosom heaved. She stepped in front of Uncle Leon. “And if you don’t believe me, you can accept my resignation here and now.”

      Liam looked alarmed. No doubt concerned about his gentlemanly gesture backfiring even further. The rest of us watched, amused. Even Dad’s sharp gaze relaxed as he turned it on Uncle Leon and Vel.

      The cook had worked for them since I was five. Not a month went by without some altercation between Vel and Uncle Leon. I think they both enjoyed it and, by my dad’s twitching lips, he felt the same. He stepped into the breach. “Now, Vel. If you say the gravy boat floated through the air, I for one believe you.”

      In two strides, he stood beside her and put his arm around her. “You know that no one in the family could do without you. I’d be devastated without your Sunday fried chicken.”

      That snapped her back. Clever, Dad, clever. She straightened. “Oh my, your brunch will be cold. Go on in and get to eating. I’ll reheat the gravy and bring it right in.”

      Uncle Leon rolled his eyes but trooped out with everyone else. As Dad walked through the door, he turned and stared at the refrigerator before he swung back and strode into the dining room.

      I was the last one out. As I started for the door, Liam appeared in front of it. He raised his arm to open it for me before he caught himself. Either that or my look of abject terror clued him in. His arm dropped. “This is very frustrating for me. I’m a gentleman, not a churl. Gentlemen open doors for ladies.”

      Churl. I’d have to remember that one. The boy was fascinating.

      “Go on, girl, before your father gets any more ideas. I’m right behind you.”

      “That’s what I’m afraid of,” I muttered.

      Once at the table, I heaped my plate. My mom broke off her conversation with Aunt Janet, looked at me, and frowned. “Good gracious, Caitlin, you’ll be sick if you eat all that. Are you nervous? You always overeat when you’re nervous.”

      “Nervous? What’s there to be nervous about? Floating gravy boats and ghosts?” Hysterical laughter burst from