“Hey, Alfie!” The cheeriness in my voice was fake, but I’d get back to excited soon. Now that Winston’s door was open, nothing was stopping me. “I’ve got a bunch more stuff to unload. Can you grab these bags?”
I’d ask the ghoul to help unload, but despite Ava living on the edge of town, her street was pretty busy, especially now that spring was coming. Tourists would flock to the area soon enough. There was too much risk that someone would see a stiff, zombie-like man carrying groceries in. Too bad it wasn’t near Halloween, then he could help me.
He grunted again, which was Alfred-speak for a long, drawn-out sentence of welcome.
“Thanks, Alfie,” I chirped as I bounced down the stairs, nearly tripping again. Damn, did I wear the wrong shoes? Was the sole loose or something? I stopped for a second and balanced on one foot while I checked my shoes.
Nope. Run of the mill sneakers. No holes or flappy pieces. With a sigh, I hurried back to my car and grabbed another load of bags.
“Decorations, check.” Peering into the bags, I tried to think of whatever it was I’d forgotten. It’d been bugging me since I left the party store. I poked through and triple-checked my inventory. Streamers, a happy birthday banner, cheap paper tablecloths. What was I missing?
It would come to me. Eventually.
Gathering another couple of armloads, I grunted as I heaved them up. Good grief. How were streamers this heavy?
I made it to the stairs in one piece, then tripped again, on the same stair I was pretty sure. “Damn it!” I yelled as my bags went flying.
Larry stuck his head… skull… out the door. “Need a hand?” He couldn’t come out either, unfortunately.
I sighed and rolled over on the porch before sitting up. “Please. Could you and Alfred possibly start the decorations? We were going to do the living room only since it’s going to be a small affair.”
The late morning sunshine illuminated the front porch far too well. I could nearly see through the back of Larry’s eye sockets and into the back of the inside of his skull. If that was even possible. I shuddered at the thought, though I wouldn’t trade a moment of how crazy things had been since Ava came back to Shipton. It kept life interesting. Lord knew we all needed interesting at our age.
Climbing to my feet, I looked away from Larry’s shiny skull and started gathering up the far-flung streamers and packs of plates and napkins.
“Thanks, Larry,” I called as he went in with a few of the bags.
Hurrying back to the car, I stepped carefully down the stairs, watching exactly where I was going for each footfall.
Somehow, somehow, my clumsy ass still stumbled on the last one. And I would’ve sworn I saw the board move. Winston.
“Okay, I’m climbing up the side of the porch next time,” I muttered as I glanced back toward the house, suspicion growing in my gut.
Last trip. I got all of the rest of the bags and balanced three rolls of wrapping paper under my chin as I bumped the door closed with my butt. That was when my car alarm went off, blaring the god-awful noise that echoed off the cliff Winston sat on.
I left it blaring and continued toward the house. One crisis at a time. It would go off in a minute.
“Okay, stairs. Leave me alone this time.” Glaring at them, I stepped one at a time, slowly, one foot, then the other foot, until I made it up to the porch. The front door stood wide open, thanks to Larry, so I strode forward with my armload.
And promptly dropped it all when I tripped over the door jamb. The latest and last round of bags slid into the house and halfway down the foyer toward the kitchen.
“Son of a b—”
“Hey, Olivia!”
I snapped my jaw shut so fast I bit my tongue. “Hey, Zoey,” I called to Ava’s latest house guest, an orphan she raised from the dead when we stopped a shifter fighting ring a week ago. She was a tiger shifter and surprisingly looked nothing like Alfred even though she was also technically a ghoul. Or was she?
Then again, Snooze wasn’t a ghoul. I rubbed my forehead and decided to stop thinking about the whys and hows. It always gave me a headache when I tried to understand Ava’s power. They went against all laws of logic and nature.
Ava had a habit of collecting the undead. It was like they were drawn to her, which made sense because of her necromancer powers. Alfred, the ghoul, originally animated by a now-dead necromancer. When the old necro died, Alfred had to have a new handler, and by virtue of being nearby, Ava was it. Then, Larry, a fully defleshed skeleton turned up, but then he didn’t want to go back to being dead.
Trying to ignore the throbbing in my shin, I picked myself up off the ground, again, and smiled at Zoey. “Hey, sweetheart. Are you busy today?”
She shrugged and shook her head. “No, not really. Ava got me signed up for some online classes, but I’m all caught up.”
Her long black hair was in one long braid, and the tail draped over her shoulder. On the top of her head were two tiger ears that twitched and moved as if taking in all the sounds around us.
I almost commented about them but decided against it. Zoey could shift into her tiger form just as easily as she had when she was alive. Or so I was told. But for some reason, shifting back to human had its challenges. For example, the ears. Most often, her tiger’s tail stayed when she shifted back to human. Her eyes, however, never changed. They were forever stuck as yellow cat eyes.
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Excellent. Here.” Snagging the rolls of wrapping paper, I stuffed them into Zoey’s arms. “There’s tape…” Looking at all the party stuff on the floor, I sighed. “Somewhere. And scissors in Ava’s office top left drawer.”
Zoey didn’t even question that I knew that. I was here more than home, not that I minded. And Ava didn’t seem to mind. At least I hoped not. I kept her pretty well-supplied in donuts and cupcakes just in case she minded.
I gathered up the foodstuffs off the floor, leaving the décor items for the undead peeps. Time to make a cake. At least I couldn’t trip over anything while stirring the batter.
Chapter 2
“Okay. Now. Cake.” I blew out a breath and surveyed the bags on the counter.
Zoey looked over my shoulder. “What kind of cake?”
“Carrot,” I said proudly. “It’s my specialty, and Drew loves it.”
She sniffed as I pulled ingredients from the bags. “I’ve never had it.”
I put the eggs in the fridge, shocked that they’d survived my insane journey, then shot Zoey a look. “Hey, can you even eat the cake? Or anything?”
Was it a rude question?
She nodded with a wide smile. “Yes, I can. Ava says it's odd that I can, considering I’m technically dead. Hey, who am I to complain, right?”
“Oh cool. Dead or not, I think I would eat too. I love food too much to pass it up.” I squeezed her hand as she giggled. Her body temp was a little warmer than Alfred’s but not as much as a living being. Ava and Owen mention it could have something to do with Zoey being a shifter. The magic that made them shifters must’ve still been there since Zoey had died a few years before. So she was considered a newbie dead.
I snickered at the thought. The undead and magic. I loved my new crazy life. It was much better than my mess of a first marriage.
Pointing to the wrapping paper, still in Zoey’s arms, I said, “Go on and start wrapping, okay? The gifts are in one of the bags in the foyer and Ava’s gift is on the right side of the couch, out of sight of the door, under the end table.”
She saluted me and walked out of the kitchen toward the living room. That was when I noticed her tiger tail swinging with her hips.
“Okay,” I muttered. “Bowls, a mixer, what else?” I grabbed a cabinet knob to get Ava’s mixing bowl set out, but it wouldn’t open. “Weird.” I groaned and tugged again.
But the cabinet wasn’t having it. “Hey, Zoey?” I called. “Aren’t you like, super strong?”
“Sure.” She wandered back toward the cabinet. “Let me try.”
<
br /> Centering her base of gravity, Zoey bent at the waist and leaned back with her hand on the cabinet pull. The darn thing didn’t budge.
“It’s really stuck,” I said. “Give it a good tug.”
She nodded once and glared at the cabinet, then yanked. From my perspective, she yanked hard.
But the cabinet opened easily, so Zoey went flying across the kitchen, sliding on her butt until she thumped into the refrigerator.
“Oh, my gosh, Zoey, I’m so sorry!” I scurried over and held out my hand to help her up. “I must’ve loosened it for you.”
I helped her to her feet and brushed off her back. “Sorry. Go over and work on the wrapping. Thank you.”
She nodded once and shot the cabinet a confused glare as she headed across the kitchen.
With a sigh, I glared at it myself. At least the cabinet was still open. I snatched the mixing bowls out quickly before the door slammed shut on my wrist or something. I leaned against the counter and brushed my hair out of my face. Deep breaths. I had plenty of time, and it was all going to be fine.
Without warning, something smacked me in the back of the head. I yelped and ducked as I spun around. There was nothing behind me but the cabinets. And one was wide open, one that hadn’t been open before. All the cabinets had been solidly closed when I turned around to catch my breath.
Rubbing the sore spot on the back of my head, I stared at the cabinets. “Winston?” I whispered.
Nobody replied, of course. Winston, AKA the house, had somehow absorbed the magic that had been performed in this house for hundreds of years. He could be ornery. And I hadn’t thought about Winston twice when I’d agreed to come here and get the party set up. That had been a mistake.
Ava had taken Drew to a movie, then they were supposed to spend the day together. It was Ava’s way of making sure the sheriff didn’t just pop over to her house unannounced as he and the rest of us often did. After all, this party was to celebrate Drew turning the big five-zero.
I was supposed to make the cake last night but as I pulled out my mixing bowls at home, Drew had called and said he’d harangued Ava into a last-minute bowling trip and that we should join. How were we supposed to say no? Drew, being my husband’s boss and best friend, knew that our son, Sammie, was at his grandparents’. He also knew that when Sam and I weren’t busy with Sammie, we’d always be down for bowling. And any other day, I would’ve been. Except that I was supposed to have been making a decadent carrot cake. So, the cake making was bumped to today, and it would just have to be iced a little warm. Ugh. That never worked right.
Next. Mixer. I needed a mixer. And for once, it was something I didn’t immediately know where to find.
“Okay, Winston. Help me out. I’m doing this as a favor for Ava. Can you please just let me get the mixer?”
Movement out of the corner of my eye had me swinging my head. A cabinet sat with its door open, just a crack, but I could see the mixer sitting on the shelf. “Yes!” I cried.
Hurrying over to the slightly open cabinet, I reached into it, but as my fingers barely brushed the side, it slammed shut. “Winston!” I yelled. “Come on!”
Carefully, wary of the house’s antics and totally confused about why he was targeting me, I grabbed the cabinet knob and pulled. Relief flooded me as it opened. I held it open with one hand and snatched the mixer out as fast as I could with the other.
At this rate, I’d only get the decorations up before the guests arrived, and that was only because I wasn’t the one putting them up!
Chapter 3
“Who is this from?”
I whirled around and raised my eyebrows at the mug Zoey held up. “Um. I have no idea.”
“Larry?” I called. I would’ve asked for Alfred, but he didn’t talk. If I was Ava, I would’ve long since cut the strings tying his mouth together and forced him to tell me why he didn’t want to talk, but she was far more patient than me. Go figure, since I was the one forty-something with a five-year-old. But I loved kids and that kid of mine was my heart. Not that my two adult-ish kids were loved any less.
“Yes, Olivia?” Larry stuck his head in the door. I wasn’t sure but I swore he kept looking at Zoey. Then again it could’ve been my imagination. Or that I was so used to the craziness that I was going insane myself. It was probably all the above. He didn’t have eyes, so I really had no idea where he was looking.
I watched him for a few seconds as he turned his head to Zoey then back to me fast enough to make me cringe. Oh, no. Please don’t fall off.
Larry’s head had an unfortunate habit of… well, falling off. Hitting the ground. Rolling, bouncing, the whole nine yards.
“Hey, uh…” I waved him into the room, kind of frantically. “C’mere, yeah.”
His bones clacked against the kitchen tile as he came closer. “What can I do for you?”
I motioned toward the mug in Zoey’s hand. “Do you know anything about this?”
Larry leaned in, and though he was nothing more than a bag of bones, he somehow managed to squint at the mug. “I do believe that’s the one Alfred ordered from both of us.”
Pushing the deeply unsettling feeling of the skeleton squinting out of my mind, I looked closer at the mug. “The Devil Made Me Do It.”
Of course. Perfect.
“Well… That’s great.” I smiled eagerly at Larry. “Good job.” I paused then held up one finger. “Question. How did you guys order that?” I certainly hoped they hadn’t gone into town.
Visions filled my head of the two of them in big hats and trench coats, trying to sneak into the curio shop downtown.
Not a comforting image. Funny, sure, but not comforting.
“We used Alfred’s tablet,” he said. “Wallie logged us into someone’s online account.” He shrugged one bony shoulder. If Larry was going to be with us much longer, I was going to have to learn the real names of the bones.
I liked knowing things.
“Well, that’s nice, Larry. Nice of you to think of him. Ah,” I sucked in a deep breath and tried to be tactful. “Do the touch screens respond to your hand?”
He shook his head, his permanent smile somehow looking a little rueful. “No, but we also ordered some gloves that have this bit on the tip that will make it so I can use the tablet as well. I can’t wait.”
A grunt from the next room caught Larry’s attention. “Coming, Al!”
He chuckled. “Probably wants me to take a pic.” He wandered off as I wondered why they were taking pictures. Not my circus…But I was a part of it.
I snorted.
No matter, at least not right now. “Well, wrap that for Drew.” I smiled encouragingly at Zoey, ignoring the fact that her eyes were permanently shifted. Right then the pupils were long slits in the center of yellow irises.
What wasn’t normal, or at least normal for her, was the cute little ears that were still sticking out of the top of her hair. At least her tail had vanished.
We were going to have to do some serious work on that girl this summer before she started her college classes in the fall. She’d been a shifter before her death—meaning sheltered—and now that she was an actual ghoul—or whatever—we needed to lay down some ground rules to keep her seeming normal.
But not today. Today, I had to get this dang cake in the oven.
“Okay, flour, sugar, no. Brown sugar.” It was on the counter. “Oh, there you are. Okay.”
I stuck my head in the refrigerator and grabbed the eggs. When I turned to put them beside the brown sugar on the counter, it was gone. “Uh, what?”
I turned in a slow circle. That brown sugar didn’t grow legs and walk away. It just didn’t.
“Larry!” I yelled.
No, wait. Zoey. “Hey!” Whirling around, I glared at Zoey. “Hey, Zo, girlfriend.” I gave her a big, cheeky grin. “Did you hide my brown sugar?”
Zoey stared at me, and as she opened her mouth to reply, to say no by the looks of her face, Larry walked in.
But he was
a bit distracted. Zoey and I watched, open-mouthed, as Larry tried to get a piece of tape off of the tip of his right pointer finger. Except it kept sticking to his left pointer finger.
Then his right thumb.
Then he grabbed it between his teeth, but then it got stuck to his teeth.
“Drat,” he whispered.
How did a skeleton whisper?
Zoey stood and held out her hand like she’d done this before.
This poor girl.
Larry leaned over, jutting out his jawbone so Zoey could grab the tape. She balled it up in her hand and tossed it on the table with a few other scraps.
When I returned to the counter, that French-flapping bag of sugar was right back in its spot on the counter.
What a bunch of bull-hockey.
I really had to talk to Ava about her preference for us not to cuss around Zoey and Larry. She said it was a bad influence, but in order to get in the habit of not flinging around the F-bomb, I had to start saying the non-offensive swear words even in my own head.
Bunch of malarkey.
Chapter 4
I would get through this cake. I would do it.
Centering my nerves, I practiced the breathing I’d learned at that one yoga class I’d convinced Ava to take with me that one time.
Neither of us had ever suggested going again after I had to watch the class pretend they couldn’t smell the little bit of gas that slipped out during my downward dog. I’d been so thankful it was silent; I hadn’t stopped to think about the fact that it could be stinky.
Until it hit my olfactory senses.
But no matter now. I was calm. The ingredients were here. Oil. Carrots and a little flat, shredder thingy. I never could remember the name of that thing, but I always shredded my carrots myself. Pre-shredded grocery store carrots were hard and dry by the time they went in the cake.
Something else I knew. I liked knowing things.
Eat Your Heart Out: A Romance Charity Anthology Page 55
