Pumpkins and Potions

by Tegan Maher

  "What do you mean, watching her? Did she see someone?" I asked.

  "No, just a feeling. For all I know, it could all be in her head. I hate saying that, but she's not herself," Autumn replied.

  "I don't blame her, grieving the loss of her father and trying to run a business," Ellen said. Melinda also owned the Sunrise Diner in town. Autumn acknowledged that was also true. "Anyway, not that any of this goes outside of the three of us, public knowledge or not." Autumn gave us her best cop look, and it reminded me so much of our mother when we were kids that I shivered. "When are you opening back up?" Autumn asked me, changing subjects.

  I looked to Ellen, to which she replied, "That's up to you, dear."

  "I don't know, probably a week or two?" I definitely wanted to be up and running before Halloween. So much time had passed, and now that I was committed to reopening, I was anxious to flip the sign out front to open.

  "Good. The sooner, the better. I know how your customers like to gossip. I could use a good lead right about now."

  "Got it. I'll let you know if we hear anything," I replied.

  3

  A couple hours later, I was en route to meeting my mom for lunch. Maurice’s was on the water. It was the type of fine dining establishment that offered white tablecloth service and real crystal water glasses. You’d be hard-pressed to secure a table without a reservation, so most people didn’t even try. When I got there, my mother was already seated at one of the outdoor tables. A slight breeze picked up from the water and blew her hair back. Caroline looked over her shoulder to call the waiter over, and if I wasn’t quick, she would insist on moving to a table inside. My mom preferred her outdoor dining just so. The temperature couldn’t be too hot or too cold. No wind. And the sun had to highlight her good side, and of course, not be in her eyes. Oh, and no bugs. The moment a mosquito buzzed her, or a bee circled overhead, the woman was inside. On second thought, maybe I should save ourselves the trouble and let her move the table inside now.

  Five minutes later, we were seated inside. At least our indoor table still had water views. Our original waiter looked relieved when we were transferred out of his section. That was probably a good thing because if he was exasperated now, he would’ve gone nuts taking my mom’s order.

  “I’d like the harvest salad with only hearts of Romain, no spinach. Tomato slices. No cherry tomatoes. They just look unnatural. Can you grill the chicken in the same cherry vinaigrette the salad comes with?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the new waitress replied with a strained smile.

  “Oh, and dressing on the side,” Caroline picked up her salad fork and examined it for water spots.

  “Got it,” the waitress jotted the order down.

  “You can send the bread back. We don’t need it.” Caroline put the fork down and pushed the breadbasket toward the waitress, who was forced to pick it up and balance it on her arm while taking my order.

  “I’ll just take the California club,” and pick the tomato slices off myself, I added in my head. I was not going to make this woman’s job any more complicated than my mother already had. My order was greeted with a genuine smile from the waitress.

  We were waiting for our food, and my mom was in mid-sentence saying something about the church bazaar, when I turned in shock at the scene outside on the beach. Nick was standing beside Mr. Franks. The older man paced the beach, stopping every few feet or so and looking back at the restaurant and then down again at his feet as if trying to gauge something.

  “Excuse me.” I stood and dropped my cloth napkin from my lap onto the table and ran toward the restaurant’s side door.

  “Claire, what is it?” My mom hollered after me. I didn’t answer or look behind me as I weaved between the outdoor diners, my eyes fixed on the beach.

  Sand quickly filled my shoes, and the wind was even stronger this close to the water. My hair tangled behind me. I pulled it over my shoulder to keep it in place and scan the beach, trying to find where the men had gone. Nick and Mr. Franks were nowhere to be seen. Overhead the sun glinted off the water, making the turquoise bay sparkle and made it impossible for me to make out any orbs. Not that it stopped me from trying. I surveyed the beach. It was mostly deserted this time of year. I spotted one lady power walking just out of reach from the surf. She had white athletic shorts on and an NMU sweatshirt. Her arms pumped at her sides. In the distance, a couple of boats skirted the shoreline, most likely fisherman trolling for king salmon.

  Seconds later my phone rang in my pocket. I wasn’t going to answer once I saw who the caller was. My mom was just going to have to wait a minute. I’d talk to her when I walked back inside. But I should’ve known better. Patience wasn’t in Caroline Sinclair’s vocabulary.

  “What in heavens name are you doing? “she asked by way of greeting.

  “I’ll be right there. “

  “Don’t bother. You created such a scene, I’ve asked the waiter to box up our lunches.”

  I doubted that. Mom probably drew more attention, shouting after me, but I didn’t argue. Instead, I told her that I would meet her back out by our cars.

  “Well, that was embarrassing,” Caroline said, handing my to-go bag over. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Why did you run outside like that?”

  “I thought I saw someone I knew,” I replied with as much honesty as possible.

  “Who?” My mother looked around for the mysterious guest.

  “Um...” I couldn’t come up with a name fast enough.

  My mother took my hesitation the wrong way. “A guy?” Her eye immediately got a twinkle in it. I had a second to answer before she ran with her assumption, and unfortunately, I paused too long.

  My mother squealed, “Oh, did you catch up to him?” Caroline looked past the parking lot and the restaurant to the beach as if expecting to see Prince Charming walking towards her.

  “Unfortunately, no.”

  “Well, that’s a shame.” Caroline thought for a moment and said, “Want to grab a table outside and have a glass of wine? Maybe he’ll walk by again.”

  “What happened to you being embarrassed? And what about the wind? Isn’t that why we moved inside in the first place?”

  “Pish posh. I think the day has turned out quite lovely.” At that moment, the wind picked up, rustling the food bags in our hands and blowing my mother’s hair back like she was in a wind tunnel. My eyes inadvertently watered in response.

  “Maybe next time. I really should get back to the bakery,” I replied.

  Caroline didn’t attempt to hide her disappointment, but I didn’t stay much longer, giving her a kiss on the cheek and promptly heading home.

  I left my mother’s head full of the wrong ideas and swimming with prospects. I’d have to feel guilty about that later. Right now, I only had one thing on my mind, and that was my husband. I was positive I saw Nick with Mr. Franks on the beach. More and more I was convinced that I really was seeing their ghosts. Back home, the me of yesterday would’ve headed upstairs, took a nap, and then microwaved something frozen for dinner, if I ate at all. But the me today was on a mission. I needed to get my bakery ready to re-open and find a way to connect with Nick.

  Seeing I had no idea how to go about doing the second part, I decided to focus on the bakery. Downstairs, I finished taking inventory and printed off my stock sheet so I could remember exactly what I needed to buy at the store. The local Gordon’s sold everything supersized – catering to, well, the catering crowd and consumers alike. It was the only place where I could buy flour in twenty-five-pound bags, two hundred count paper coffee cups, a box of ten dozen eggs and unsalted butter by the thirty-pound case. Gordon’s filled a niche for business owners, brides planning at home weddings, parents throwing graduation parties, and parents-to-be hosting baby showers.

  On the drive to the store I kept my eyes peeled for any ghosts or floating orbs. I had to do a double take once as something zipped across the sky, only to be disappointed when it was a kid playing with a drone
in the city park. This seeing ghosts things was going to take some getting used to.

  My cart filled up fast with bakery staples once I started shopping. I was going to get in a solid arm workout by the time I loaded everything into my car and unloaded it at the bakery. I was stacking the butter and wondering if I should load the paper products on top or go for a second cart when I spotted none other than Melinda Franks loading her cart with ketchup and mustard for the diner.

  “Claire, is that you? I haven’t run into you here in forever. Good to see you,” Melinda said, stopping so our carts were nose to nose.

  “You too. I’m sorry to hear about your father. I just found out about his passing today.”

  “Thanks. It was a bit of a shock, but I’m doing okay.”

  “I take it his death was unexpected?” Mr. Franks had appeared healthy the last time he’d been in the bakery, but that was months ago.

  Melinda nodded. “His health was failing, but still, I thought we had more time.”

  “I hadn’t heard.”

  “He had what the doctors called PPA.” I rolled the acronym around on my tongue but drew a blank unfamiliar with the term. “It’s a degenerative disease. It made it hard for him to talk or even understanding people anymore,” Melinda supplied.

  “I’m sorry. That’s awful.”

  “It was. Dad was slowly slipping away and then he had a stroke and that was it.” Melinda looked off in the distance.

  “I’m so sorry.” I felt like that was all I kept saying.

  “Dad knew what was happening and there wasn’t anything we could do about it. It was such an awful feeling to not be able to help. He was frustrated and I was scared. It was a lot.”

  “I can’t imagine.”

  “Knowing all that, I guess the stroke was a better alternative, if there could ever be such a thing.”

  “I understand.”

  Melinda smiled proudly before saying, “The one good thing is that dad faced everything head on. He started to get small things in order. Things that he could still manage like life insurance and his personal belongings. Little piles and lists separating who got what.” Melinda laughed at a memory. “My cousin Mark said he got a package last week with dad’s Piguet watch and gold cufflinks in it.”

  “Wow, that’s generous.” Piguets were pricey. They made Rolexes look cheap.

  “Mark wanted to make sure he should keep it. The watch is worth a small fortune and he knew dad wasn’t always with it. But when Mark sent me a picture of dad’s note and I read it, I knew dad really wanted Mark to have those heirlooms.”

  “Did your dad always keep valuables like that lying around?” I thought about Ellen’s remark with the break-in being an inside job. If Mr. Franks’ kept valuables out in the open, then anyone who’d been in the house would know about them.

  “He did, but I don’t think he thought of them that way. To him they were just his things. Did you hear someone broke-in?”

  “Ellen mentioned it. Any idea who did it?”

  “Not a clue. But I read that criminals will scan obituaries and then target the deceased houses.”

  “How horrible.”

  “Mm-hm. They especially look for obits that state the person was a widow because their houses are usually vacant, and dad’s did. I didn’t think anything of writing that mom predeceased him.”

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t have either.”

  “After the break-in, I thought I should stay at dad’s house until I could get everything sorted and sold by now, but now I’m not so sure.”

  “Why, what happened?” Autumn was vague on the details, which her profession demanded and her personality.

  “I don’t know. I just feel really uncomfortable there, like someone is always watching me. I get goosebumps just thinking about it.” Melinda held her arm up for me to see. Hairs rose up on my arm in response. “The sooner I can get his house emptied and sold, the better.”

  “I bet. Good luck with everything and if I can help in some way, don’t hesitate to ask – even if it’s just someone to talk to,” I offered.

  “Thanks so much. Same goes for you too. I’ve been meaning to reach out. I just—"

  I cut Melinda off. “That’s okay, I know how busy you are.” I also knew how uncomfortable Nick’s death made a lot of people. To be healthy and full of life one moment and dead the next was a lot for anyone to comprehend.

  “I can see why you closed down for a bit. There just isn’t enough time, is there?” Melinda said.

  “No, there’s not.” Time was only part of it. “But I’m planning on opening up again soon.” I motioned down to my cart chock-full of butter, flour, sugar and eggs.

  “Oh, wonderful! I just miss that morning brew of yours and those cinnamon rolls – just don’t tell Connie I said so.” Connie was the head cook at the diner and while her pies were delightful, the rest of her desserts left something to be desired.

  “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

  4

  Back home, I spent the evening searching and reading online on how to communicate with ghosts. The Internet was full of all sorts of ideas, ranging from using candles and crystals to hiring a professional medium or playing with an Ouija board – the later always came with a warning: Ouija boards were real. They worked and any spirit, good or bad, could use the board to communicate with you. "Great," I said sarcastically while shutting my laptop. I was inadvertently freaked out and this was the part that I hated about living alone--without human or animal companion. My cat Smoky, who lived a good life of eighteen years, had recently crossed the rainbow bridge. For not the first time, I debated going to the shelter and adopting a new kitty, but with re-opening the bakery, now probably wasn't the best time to add a new member to the family. Still something furry to cuddle with would've helped take the chill away that I felt deep in my bones.

  I dozed off sometime after ten o'clock on the couch. My sleep was filled with evil ghosts chasing me. They were under the command of the Bogeyman. Somehow or another, I summoned the phantom from the unknown, and he answered. I was still shivering when I woke. Or perhaps it wasn't the nightmare that pulled me from my troubled slumber, but the person I heard rummaging downstairs in the bakery. The rustling sound was followed by what sounded like the silverware drawer opening. Metal clanged together ever so slightly as if someone was searching for the perfect utensil. My heart, which was still pounding from the nightmare, continued to hammer in my chest. I cursed myself for not closing the apartment door that led downstairs to the bakery. Then I remembered Melinda's remark about thieves scouring obituaries. Maybe the thief from Mr. Franks had decided to pay me a visit? Nick's death had certainly generated plenty of press coverage. I stood and quickly searched the couch for my cell phone to call the police but couldn't find it. It must've fallen between the cushions or underneath it. With no time to spare, I dashed over to my kitchen and armed myself with my rolling pin.

  I peeked my head down the stairs, but I didn't see anyone.

  Slowly, I tiptoed down to the bakery's kitchen to get a better look. Maybe I was mistaken, and the noise had come from outside? It wouldn't be the first time a raccoon caused a ruckus with the trash. I said a silent prayer hoping that was the case.

  But then I heard a man's voice.

  He was whispering. Heaven help me. What if he wasn't alone? I was frozen in terror. It was stupid of me to leave my apartment.

  "What's going on?" Nick's voice was less than an inch from my ear.

  I screamed, losing my balance and sliding on my butt all the way down the rest of the stairs. The rolling pin went wild, flying through the air and crashing into the free-standing metal cooling racks. The racket was enough to wake the dead or startle them as I came to find out.

  Mr. Franks stared at my wide-eyed.

  "You're the one rummaging around down here?" I asked the ghost incredulously.

  "My treasure," Mr. Franks replied.

  "What treasure?" I asked, stepping closer.


  "My. Treasure," Mr. Franks replied more forcefully.

  I still had no idea what he was talking about and Mr. Franks wasn't offering up any more clues. "I'm sorry, I don't understand," I said.

  In the blink of an eye, Mr. Franks was gone. An orange orb darted about the bakery in his place. I watched it move to the front of the house where it buzzed under tables and around the un-stocked coffee bar.

  "What in the world is going on?" I said to Nick.

  "He's been like this all day, looking for something, but I'm not sure what it is," Nick said.

  "On the beach, he was looking for it, wasn't he?"

  "You saw us?" Nick looked shocked.

  "Yeah."

  "And you can see me now?"

  "In the flesh. Well, mostly. You're sort of see-through and look a bit pale."

  "Aren't you cute."

  "I'm serious." Nick looked down at his appearance as if seeing himself for the first time. Then the reality of the situation hit me. "And oh my goodness, I can't believe it's really you, and we're talking, and you're a..." I covered my mouth with my hand. I couldn't bring myself to say the words.

  "A ghost," Nick supplied for me.

  "Yeah." I looked down and shook my head. Could this really be happening? My eyes welled with tears. I hadn't been imagining all of this.

  "Chin up, buttercup," Nick's cold finger lifted up my chin. "I told you I'd never leave you, remember?" Nick stepped forward and outstretched his hand. I copied the action. Coldness washed over me as our fingertips touched and I stared into my husband's eyes.

  "I missed you," I confessed.

  "I promised I'd always love you. Forever by your side is where I'll be." I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. "But now, you need to sleep," Nick said.

  "Sleep? How am I supposed to sleep? I have a million questions for you, like where have you been all this time? And why can I see you now? And what's up with the orb thing?"

  "What do you mean? I've been here," Nick said, motioning to the apartment.