If Mashed Potatoes Could Dance Read online

  “Who are you?” Sally asked roughly, though her face softened one tiny bit.

  “Isabelle Winston. I’m Missouri’s granddaughter.”

  “Miz, your granddaughter can see me?”

  “Seems that way,” Gram said. “Maybe we could drop the theatrics, Sally. You’ve attempted to haunt people since you died. It hasn’t worked with me, and it isn’t going to work with Betts. You’re too silly to pull it off anyway.”

  Sally put the ax to her side. “I’m silly? Well, that’s a fine bundle of sour oats.” She looked at Gram and then back at me. “I guess I’m glad there’s more than one of you. Maybe you’ll be more fun than your grandmother. This could be interesting. Tell me, Miz, where did we leave off?”

  The ghosts arrived with spotty memories, having mostly forgotten their lives along with their previous visits. Jerome, and it seemed that Sally, too, remembered Gram, though. She must have been their touchstone. I supposed that was better than starting at absolute zero every time.

  Gram thought a moment. “I seem to remember us discussing a diary, your diary. You said that you wished you knew where it was so you could prove that your homicides were justifiable.”

  “Really?” Sally’s eyes opened wide. “My murders were justifiable?”

  “That’s what you said last time.”

  Sally shook her head. “I hope it comes back to me, but right now I don’t…oh, hang on, maybe…no. We’ll see. Until then, what should we do?” She smiled and swung the ax up to her shoulder.

  Gram looked at me. “You’ll find that Sally likes to ‘do’ things. She’s a curious ghost and doesn’t always go away when you’d like her to.”

  “Hey, I’m right here,” Sally said.

  “Oh, I know,” Gram said. “We’ve got work to do, so you may come into the school and join us, but stay out of our way.” Gram pushed past me and hurried back into the building.

  “Nice to see you, too, Missouri,” Sally muttered.

  “You want to come in?” I asked.

  Sally shrugged and tried to look nonplussed. “I guess there’s nothing else to do.”

  The inch–by–inch cleaning we’d originally planned transformed into just a good cleaning. I called Teddy, who answered his phone and said he’d be able to round up the cots and other bedding we’d need.

  Sally, her ax seemingly permanently attached to her gripped hand, mostly complied with Gram’s order to stay out of the way as we hurried to get the school ready for the guests. She was a talker, though. She asked about everything—the appliances, the utensils, the mop, my hair, Gram’s bandana, the cars out front, everything.

  “I don’t understand why people will be sleeping here,” she said after we’d given her a brief overview of how transportation had changed since she was alive.

  “There’s no other place,” I told her. “The hotel is booked. I even checked on the high school gymnasium, but it’s busy with a volleyball tournament.”

  My dad was the high school principal, and my mom was the auto shop teacher. They were currently on vacation somewhere in Arizona, but the high school building was constantly being used for something; summer camps, sports tournaments, etc.

  “We’re just going to have an all-night cooking class. Those who want to participate will learn everything there is to know about potatoes. Those who want to sleep will have cots in the reception area and the back classroom that we rarely use.” Gram paused and looked at Sally like she couldn’t believe she’d taken the time to explain the circumstances to the ghost.

  “Hmmm,” Sally said.

  “Sally, if you try to haunt our guests, you’ll only end up irritating Betts and me. We’re the only ones who can see and hear you. You might want to work on ‘demure’ this evening.”

  Both Sally and I laughed. Gauging from the short time I’d known her, I doubted she’d ever been demure, and even though she couldn’t remember the details, she probably was pretty certain she hadn’t been either. It was that one shared laugh, that small connection, that made me think I was fated to become at least partially attached to these traveling ghosts forever. I couldn’t say that I liked Sally really. It wasn’t possible for me to so quickly befriend someone who’d axed her family to death, even if her actions might have been justified. But there was something more than just my ability to talk to ghosts that made them appealing to me. I wondered about the connection and hoped I might someday understand it. For now, I thought that maybe it was simply that I could see them because I was somehow predisposed to feel tied to them.

  The rumble of a big engine sounded from the front of the school.

  “Is that the bus?” Gram asked. “Betts, what time were they supposed to be here?”

  “I thought not until this evening.”

  Gram flung the bandana off her head, and we both removed our rubber gloves, throwing everything onto a shelf. Gram fluffed her short hair, and I pulled my ponytail a little tighter.

  We were not in any shape to have company, but the squeak and air release of brakes told us we didn’t have any more time to prepare.

  “I guess we’d better go greet them,” I said.

  We hurried out to the front of the school. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Sally followed close behind, but she didn’t speak, which made her voice as quiet as her footfalls. It seemed the only sounds the ghosts made were those that came out of their mouths.

  The bus was big and black with tall purple lettering that said HAVE FOOD? The windows were dark enough that we could see figures inside but nothing specific about our visitors.

  The door swung open.

  It seemed to take forever for the person inside to climb down the stairs and off the bus. Finally, an extraordinarily well-groomed man smiled and then bounded toward us.

  “Hi, are we at the right place?” he asked. “I’m the group’s guide and driver, and I don’t want to disrupt the riders if I didn’t get the right spot.” He stopped in front of us and smiled. It was difficult to tell how old he was, but I thought he was in his fifties. His hair was a darker black than the color of the bus and it shone like the finish, as though he waxed both the bus and his hair at the same time. His mustache was perfect, and his short-sleeved shirt and khaki pants didn’t have one wrinkle. I wondered how someone could drive a bus and not be wrinkled.

  Gram extended her hand. “I’m Missouri Anna Winston, owner of this place. Call me Miz. This is my granddaughter, Isabelle, or Betts.” She pointed to the GRAM’S COUNTRY COOKING SCHOOL sign. “I believe you are most definitely supposed to be here for one night. You’re the food tour group, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He shook Gram’s hand. “Leroy Norton at your service. Well, I’m at their service really.” He nodded toward the bus. “Thanks for putting us up for the night. I’m a little baffled at where everyone’s going to sleep, though. I pictured a…well, something else.”

  “We’ll have cots. Soon,” I said.

  “Cots?” Leroy didn’t hide his displeasure. “I’m not sure…”

  “Leroy—Robert’s leg is cramping. Can I get him off the bus?” A woman with a big, red beehive hairdo was leaning out of the bus’s open door.

  “’Scuse me,” Leroy said as he turned and hurried back to the bus.

  “I don’t think cots are what he had in mind,” I said.

  “Uh–oh,” Gram said as she glanced toward the bus door and put her hands on her hips.

  “What?” I said as I followed her line of vision.

  Leroy was off the bus again, but he was reaching into the open door. Slowly, more slowly than I could have thought possible, he stepped backward as he helped someone disembark.

  The man exiting the bus was very old. His skinny figure was hunched over, and he walked with a cane in one hand while holding Leroy’s with the other hand.

  “Betts, is this an older persons’ tour?” Gram asked quietly.

  “No one mentioned their ages,” I said just as quietly.

  Sally laughed. “I don’t have to tr
y to haunt these people. They could join me at any minute.”

  Neither Gram nor I laughed with her.

  Chapter 2

  Initially, the bad news was the food tour group was made up of retirees. The good news turned out to be that Robert Hart was the oldest of the group. The rest of the retirees and their spouses or dates (Leroy’s word) were much more agile than Mr. Hart. Some of the group were in their sixties, some in their fifties, and some were even younger. Retired in this case meant that these people were all wealthy enough to never have to work again and had plenty of time to travel and participate in things like food tours.

  Besides the bus driver Leroy, six other people exited the bus, each of them subject to Sally’s vocalized observations; observations Gram and I could hear, but fortunately no one else could.

  Robert Hart was partnered with Eloise Dinchel, who must have been younger of the two. We thought this only because she was able to walk with perfect posture and no need of a cane. Her red hair was done in a beehive, and she wore bright blue eye shadow. Sally was impressed by both and wondered why Gram and I didn’t do our hair and makeup the same way.

  Ash and Cece Montgomery were Sally’s favorite couple, though. Ash was a pleasant enough man but not blessed with attractive features. He looked close to sixty, and as awful as I felt about thinking it, I wondered why someone who supposedly had so much money didn’t do something to fix his teeth. Or buy new glasses that weren’t so scratched and bent. Or buy a shirt that wasn’t covered with old stains. I didn’t like to think I was that shallow, but those were the things I most noticed.

  Ash was a sharp contrast to his wife, Cece. Cece couldn’t have been much more than twenty-five, and she looked a lot like Sally, but more modern, better put together, and not dead.

  Cece Montgomery had evidently been assembled following the model of a Barbie doll. Her figure was ideal; her clothes were smooth, her shirt dotted with little bits of glitter here and there (just like on one of my old dolls); her long blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail and didn’t show one flyaway. I self-consciously smoothed my own red, kind–of–wavy, not-free–of–flyaways version when I saw hers.

  Sally laughed at the two of them. “Well, I suppose that’s true love…of money. We had those kind of women in my day. I believe we called them gold diggers.”

  Cece wasn’t as pleasant and friendly as her husband either. She was as unhappy as someone could be about sleeping on a cot in a cooking school. She also adamantly noted that she didn’t care to learn how to cook, she just wanted to eat. Her husband was the one interested in cooking, but she most definitely was not!

  Luckily, there were enough people around that neither Gram nor I had much time to give her complaints due attention. We’d deal with it later. We were sure we’d have no choice.

  While Ash and Cece were Sally’s favorite couple, Vivienne and Charlene were the two who most interested her. There wasn’t an appropriate moment to explain how the world had changed when it came to accepting lesbian and homosexual couples, but Sally figured out the women’s relationship quickly.

  “Ooh, we had women like them, too, although they didn’t really go out in public together. They lived in secret. I wish I could remember some of their names. I always felt sorry for them. They always seemed…reticent. These two don’t seem reticent at all.”

  In fact, Vivienne and Charlene were in great moods, more than happy with the idea of sleeping in the cooking school and very excited about the free cooking class. They were also the youngest of the group. I didn’t think either of them was over fifty.

  They were both pretty women, though not stunning like Cece. Vivienne was African-American and Charlene was Caucasian, which was something else that caught Sally’s attention, but she didn’t say much more about it than, “Interesting.”

  The last couple was the reverse of Ash and Cece in the age category. Georgina Carlisle was at least sixty, but Greg Carlisle was closer to forty. Greg was male-model handsome, his sharp and sculpted features making me think of right angles and underwear advertisements. He wore black pants and a silky red shirt that clung here and there to well-formed muscles. He wasn’t my type at all, but he was the kind of guy that everyone likes to look at, especially Sally.

  “Purrrr,” she said. “I’d let him leave cracker crumbs in my bed, except that he should be ashamed of himself. Clearly his love of money is what guides his—”

  I cleared my throat. I wasn’t exactly sure what part of him she was going to say was guided by money, but I was having a difficult time remembering that no one else could hear her.

  “Well, it does,” she said. “Look at that old bag.”

  I was doubly glad that no one else could hear her.

  Georgina was not what I would have categorized as either an old bag or your typical “cougar.” She wasn’t slick; she didn’t wear a lot of makeup, but boldly showed off her wrinkles and age spots. She had long, lusciously gray hair that fell just below her shoulders. She was continually tucking it behind one ear or the other. She didn’t try to hide or cover up her age at all. Something about her confidence made me like her immediately.

  Introductions were handled, and Gram asked if everyone would like to come in for refreshments. We had lemonade, iced tea, and some of Gram’s strawberry cake with cream cheese frosting. I thought we’d reel in even Cece when she tasted the cake.

  As everyone gathered, a newer-model pickup pulled into the parking lot. Stacked high in the back and secured with bungee cords were a whole bunch of cots.

  My brother Teddy had come through. He parked the truck next to the bus, got out, and waved in our direction.

  “Who’s that?” Cece unthreaded her arm from her husband’s and stepped next to me.

  “Oh, that’s Teddy, my brother,” I said as I eyed Ash. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

  “He’s very handsome. Please make sure you introduce him to me at some point,” Cece said.

  I was speechless, so I just nodded dumbly.

  Sally laughed again. “She’s going to make this night very interesting. I will tell you this, though, that young man looks good enough to eat. Too bad he can’t see me—I’d figure out something creative. That’s your brother, huh? I don’t remember him but I’m sure I’ve seen him before.”

  I nodded again, but this time my head moved more in a perplexed circle than up and down.

  “Maybe, just maybe since he’s related to you and Miz we can work on something,” Sally said.

  “This way,” I said as I made a welcoming hand swoop toward the entrance of the school. Cece reluctantly walked inside and Sally followed behind swinging the ax purposefully close to the live woman’s body.

  Just as our last guest and the ghost crossed the front threshold, Teddy hurried to me.

  “You’re really having a sleepover at the school?” he said.

  “It looks that way.”

  “It sounded fun at first, but then I saw the group. Now it seems kind of weird.”

  “I know, but Jake committed us and they’re here, and there’s no place else to stay. I think most of them like the idea of a cooking class.”

  “I might have a better idea,” Teddy said.

  It was rude of me to hesitate to respond. Over the years, Teddy had hatched some pretty juvenile and sometimes dangerous ideas. Things had been known to explode because of an idea my brother had come up with. But lately, he’d shown some signs of maturity. I should be a better big sister and not allow my immediate reaction be doubt.

  “Okay,” I said. I didn’t think he’d caught the pause.

  “You know the old Anderson farm?”

  “Sure.”

  The Anderson family had lived on a small farm right outside the town for, as far as I knew, forever. Generations had grown up, grown old, and died in the big old house with the noisy porch swings. Broken Rope’s history was full of stories of strange deaths; the Anderson farm had contributed heartily to our reputation. If I remembered correctly, someone ha
d leapt off the tall roof of the house, and someone had hung themselves in the barn. The last Anderson, James, had recently died of old age. As normal and boring as it was, he’d been ninety-seven and passed in his sleep.

  “Someone bought the house and whatever land hadn’t been sold off. The house is being renovated into a bed-and-breakfast.”

  “Really? Are there enough rooms for everyone?”

  “Well, not exactly. The house part, where guests will eventually sleep, isn’t close to ready, but the barn is.”

  “I think sleeping in a barn is worse than sleeping on cots in a cooking school, Teddy.”

  Teddy smiled. “Well, big sister who seems to know everything, that’s where I’ve got you.” I crossed my arms and smiled patiently. “The barn is now a dormitory. There aren’t separate rooms or anything, but there are beds and four bathrooms. There’s also a small kitchen area…of course, you and Gram couldn’t hold a cooking class there or anything…”

  “Do you think the owners are ready for guests?”

  “The kitchen isn’t stocked, but the building inspectors okayed the barn space, that much I know.”

  “How can I get a hold of the owners?”

  “The owner’s name is Suzi Warton. Here, let me give you her number. I’ve been working on some of her construction jobs. You’ll like her.”

  Just as I was typing Suzi’s name and number into my phone, Cece pushed forcefully through the door.

  “I am not sleeping…” she began. “Oh, hello, you’re still here. Good. I’m Cece Montgomery,” she continued, her tone switching from adamant to overly sweet when she eyed Teddy.

  “How do you do, Ms. Montgomery. Teddy Winston.” Teddy shook her hand.

  I often wondered how my brother did what he did. It was more than just his looks. He had a certain innate charm that was difficult to define. It wasn’t an act, ever. In fact, I didn’t think Teddy knew how to be anything but himself, which probably made him more attractive. Even when he forewarned the women he met and told them he wasn’t interested in a relationship, his honesty made him even more appealing.