seven

“I can’t believe you volunteered us to go look for his car,” Jonathan said after he’d climbed into the truck and shut his door. Francine was already buckling up.

“Was that so wrong?”

“Not necessarily, but with all you’ve got to do today? Mary Ruth needs your help, and you know I can’t stay.”

“You can’t?” In truth, she’d forgotten to ask him. She only remembered now she’d told Mary Ruth he would. “Why not?”

He started the truck and drove out of the hospital parking lot. “I have to go back this afternoon. I have an evening meeting tonight and several client meetings scheduled for tomorrow. I thought I’d mentioned that.”

Though he was semi-retired from his accounting firm, Jonathan still maintained a few long-time clients and hadn’t yet given up his partnership. She knew he’d arranged his schedule so he would be free yesterday to come with them to Rockville and today for the early morning photo shoot. I guess it is an imposition to expect him to stay longer, she thought.

“Let’s hurry back to Rockville then. If Mary Ruth has everything under control, I’ll recruit Charlotte to help me.”

“Even if she doesn’t have everything under control, she still may be better off if you take Charlotte off her hands to go look for the car.”

Francine chuckled at that. Charlotte and Mary Ruth got along far better playing cards than when they were in a kitchen together. Charlotte wasn’t much interested in food preparation except for sampling.

Since it was nearing two o’clock, they made a quick stop at the Dairy Queen on the way out of Clinton and ate in the truck while listening to songs from the 1950s.

The stately home Mary Ruth was using for the week was in an old, historic section of Rockville. Being the county seat for Parke County, Rockville had a number of homes that dated back to the turn of the twentieth century, but few of them were as grand as the Mansfield Estate, an Italianate home on Market Street that also had a carriage house and a gardener’s cottage on the grounds. Inside, the house had been renovated several times, most recently to add a state-of-the-art kitchen and modern bathrooms to six of the ten bedrooms.

There were four unrecognized cars in the driveway, so Jonathan had to park on the street. “Do you know what’s going on?” he asked Francine.

“No,” she said. But she suspected Charlotte was up to something.

They rang the front door bell even though they could have just walked in. It wasn’t like the owner was there. But with the extra cars, Francine thought it be better to announce their entrance. Plus, she couldn’t get used to entering a house this nice without asking for permission.

“Oh, it’s you.” Charlotte seemed disappointed when she opened the door. She wiped her hands on a kitchen towel she’d carried with her.

“You were expecting someone else?”

“Ummm. No. Just surprised to see you back so soon.”

Jonathan wiped his feet on the mat before entering. “We’ve been gone a couple of hours.”

Francine admired the wide staircase in front of them and the balcony that surrounded the second floor above them. “I don’t think I could ever get used to making a grand entrance into this place.”

“This is some house.” Charlotte leaned back to admire the high ceiling.

Francine did likewise. The ceiling was plaster and had a significant amount of crown molding around the walls. A large chandelier with what looked to be a hundred flame-shaped light bulbs hung from the center.

Mary Ruth came in from the kitchen, clad in her pink catering apron. Francine still did a double-take when she saw how Mary Ruth’s clothes now flattered her body. She’d lost almost fifty pounds thanks to her Bucket List item and the hiring of a personal trainer. It was probably the reason she showed none of the exhaustion she had earlier from the tense morning in the food booth.

“I have to say, you do have friends with impeccable taste,” Francine told her.

“And money,” Charlotte added.

Mary Ruth laughed. “Friends of friends, not friends. But it’s good to have people who are fans of my food.” She motioned toward the kitchen. “C’mon back. The last of what we’re making for tomorrow is in the oven.”

Francine wrinkled her forehead. “How did you accomplish so much in such a short period of time?”

“Two things. One, Marcy persuaded me that I really didn’t need to make that much more food, that shortage only made my food more desirable. We did the scones, cookies, and cakes today, leaving us only the cinnamon rolls to bake in the morning. The donuts, of course, we fry as needed.” They followed her around to the back side of the staircase where they entered the kitchen through a swinging door.

“I imagine this is where the butler and servants used to come to get the food from the cook when the house was first built,” Francine said. She held on to one of the swinging door and fingered the wood grain. She wasn’t sure if the doors were original, but they looked like could have been used in the early 1900s, when food have been plated in the kitchen and then whisked away to the formal dining room for serving. “What’s number two?”

Mary Ruth ushered them in. “I added staff.” Besides Alice, who was working on scones, there were six other women in Mary Ruth Catering pink aprons at work. Two of them were tackling a mountain of dishes to be washed, and the other four were either manning the wall ovens or mixing up what looked to be batches of corn fritter donut dough.

Francine guessed the new recruits to be in their fifties. Young, Francine thought. “You hired them?”

“Technically, no. They’re volunteers. The Covered Bridge Festival Committee sent them over after lunch. The Committee was apparently really impressed by the crowds we drew.”

Francine walked over to the wall ovens. She didn’t know what was in them, but she smelled cinnamon. She found a switch that turned on a light inside the top oven. “Those scones look divine,” she said.

“Thanks,” said Alice, who was using a spatula to transfer from a baking sheet to a cooling rack the biggest apple-cinnamon scones Francine had ever seen. “I’ve been begging Mary Ruth to let me make them. I feel like I’ve been a good apprentice and ready to try my hand at some of her recipes.” She was dressed in the standard Mary Ruth Catering outfit of black pants, white shirt, black shoes, and a pink apron. Of course, the pants were Michael Kors and her shoes were Kate Spade, but that was Alice.

Charlotte nudged Francine aside so she could look. “Those things are cresting perfectly, and that fall-ish smell of cinnamon has been calling to me all afternoon. I can hardly wait to slather one in icing and take a bite.”

“It’s a glaze,” Alice said. “And we don’t slather them. We drizzle them.”

“If I get hold of the icing, they’ll be bathed in the stuff.”

“That’s why you will not get near them,” Mary Ruth said. “They are Alice’s to drizzle. She did exceptionally well making them. And all the help enabled me to get several batches of cookies ready for tomorrow.” She uncovered a space on a countertop to reveal mounds of five types of giant cookies, easily seven inches in diameter. As Charlotte headed toward the cookies, Mary Ruth recovered them with a flour sack towel. “I made some smaller ones for us to have later.”

“We’ll need them sooner rather than later,” Charlotte said.

Mary Ruth squinted at her. “Why will we need them sooner?”

“For the séance. We’re having a séance this afternoon.” Charlotte said it as though she wouldn’t tolerate dissention.

“A séance?” Mary Ruth clearly thought Charlotte was making a joke. “You don’t have a séance in the middle of the afternoon. Don’t you have them at night?”

“She’s giving us the early-bird special.”

Francine chuckled to herself. Charlotte was a true senior when it came to knowing about every early-bird special available.

Alice blew on a stray piece of hair that hung down by her eyes. “Why on earth are we having a séance?”

Charlotte dug both fists into her hips. “For someone who had Attend a Séance on her Sixty List, you don’t sound very enthused. I arranged this for you.”

Mary Ruth’s expression was one of realization. “That explains why Marcy disappeared. She’s gone to get Merlina.”

Alice’s mouth went taut. “Don’t think that I don’t appreciate your help, Charlotte. It’s just that when I got around to being part of a séance, I thought it’d be with someone I trusted a little more than the Great Merlina.”

“You haven’t even met the Great Merlina yet.”

“The fact that she’s related to Marcy does not inspire confidence.”

“This is where I get out,” Jonathan said. He gave Francine a kiss. “Have fun. I’ll call you later when I get home.” He snatched one of the big cookies Mary Ruth had hidden under the flour towel and went upstairs.

Francine sighed and watched him go up to get his things. “Where’s Joy?” she asked Charlotte.

“She’s back at the Covered Bridge Festival doing ‘color pieces.’ Channel Six sent a truck and cameraman after the station got a look at the footage of the rescue. She did a segment on the noon news about it, but the truck wasn’t here yet. They want her to do a live segment from the Roseville Bridge for The News at Five. Say, Jonathan’s not leaving, is he? Joy was counting on interviewing him.”

“Oh, I’m confident he’ll be leaving now.”

The doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” Mary Ruth said and scurried off as though she were glad to have something else to do right then.

They could hear the front door open, and then they heard Marcy announce in a loud voice, “The Great Merlina has arrived!”

“Wait no longer,” Charlotte said.

The procession of Marcy, the Great Merlina, and Mary Ruth entered the kitchen, with Marcy swinging open the door and holding it for Merlina. Francine hadn’t gotten a good look at her earlier because she’d been in shadows within the tent, but she was pretty sure Merlina hadn’t been dressed in a midnight-blue gypsy dress that went all the way to the floor. The dress had a dramatic flair, with outer sleeves that covered the arms to the wrists and inner sleeves that fell away from her forearms like petals drooping from a spent tulip. A square neckline settled across her chest with medieval-looking embroidery that was repeated at Merlina’s chunky waist. The same pattern ran down the front two folds of the dress to her shoes. Francine thought the shoes looked like thick, scuffed gray leather boots. Merlina wore an ornate gold necklace with multiple gold bracelets around her wrists. “I am here,” Merlina said. “Are we ready to contact the spirit world?”

“We would be,” Mary Ruth intoned, “except we have a batch of apple-cinnamon scones almost ready to come out of the oven.”

“The spirits will not be willing to come if all parties are not going to be attentive.” Merlina narrowed her eyes at Mary Ruth. “We’ll wait.” She threw her arms out to the sides, punctuating the word wait as though thunder would roll when she said it. Without pausing for anyone’s permission, Merlina put a boot on one of the bottom rungs of a stool. “Does anyone have tea?”

“I’m sure we must have tea somewhere,” Charlotte said, anxious to please. “Don’t we?”

Mary Ruth pointed to a long narrow cabinet next to the refrigerator. “In there, I think.”

Charlotte rummaged through the cabinet. “How about English breakfast?” She held out a box to show Merlina, who sniffed.

“Not much of a selection.”

Francine choked back the retort she started to make. Instead, she said, “I might have some herbal tea in my purse. Let me check.”

“Thank you,” Merlina said. She took her foot off the stool and dramatically paced across the kitchen toward the dining room. Marcy, Mary Ruth, and Charlotte followed, along with Francine, who’d grabbed her purse and was rifling through it.

“This will do nicely,” Merlina announced, placing her hands on the long, old-fashioned cherry dining room table that Francine was sure was a well-preserved antique. “The spirits love to convene around old things. It makes them comfortable.”

“Then they’ll love us,” Mary Ruth said dryly.

Now that Francine was closer to Merlina, she noticed the dress smelled of mothballs. She briefly wondered how the spirits felt about mothballs. Merlina’s complexion was dark, like she was descended from Mediterranean stock. Perhaps the dress is authentic, she thought. Maybe Merlina does come from gypsy blood.

The women returned to the kitchen. Mary Ruth told her volunteer staff they could go. Francine made tea and Charlotte persuaded Mary Ruth to surrender a few of the smaller oatmeal raisin walnut cookies. The women split the cookies and sat with their cups of tea back at the dining room table. Finally Mary Ruth and Alice got the scones out of the oven. As they joined the others, the scent of apples and cinnamon wafted in with them, making everyone’s mouth water.

Merlina issued instructions to no one in particular. “Please douse the lights and lower the shade on the window.” Marcy got up and made the room darker. “I can feel an older energy in this room,” Merlina intoned, glancing furtively around as though she could see ghosts darting in and out.

“If it’s on my part,” Mary Ruth said, wiping her brow with the bottom of the apron she was still wearing, “there’s not much energy left. I don’t know that I’m up to a séance.”

“You have to participate,” Charlotte insisted. “All five of us do.”

“Not me,” Marcy said. “I’m only here to help.” Which only made Francine more suspicious this was a setup.

“I meant Joy,” Charlotte said.

Eerie music started to play from somewhere in the room and the little hairs on the back of Francine’s neck went up. Then she realized that Marcy had brought along a portable music system.

“Everyone stop talking!” the Great Merlina said. “It’s time to begin the séance!” She flapped the inner sleeves of her costume like birds’ wings as she waved the others silent.

“But Joy isn’t here yet!” Alice said.

The doorbell rang just then and before Mary Ruth could get out to the front room to open it, the women heard Joy’s high-pitched voice exclaim, “I’m here, I’m here!”

“I knew that would happen,” Merlina said without a beat.

But Merlina lost control as everyone except her and Marcy rushed to the front room to greet Joy.

“Did you see my report on the news at noon?” Joy said.

“We’ve been too busy, but we did DVR it,” Marcy said.

The rest of the group was behind her. “We were going to watch it when we finished the scones,” Alice said, “but then the Great Merlina showed up.”

Joy’s eyes registered confusion. “The Great Merlina?”

“For the séance,” Charlotte said.

“We are about to start,” Merlina loudly pronounced from the dining room.

“Let’s get this over with,” Francine muttered to the group.

“I heard that,” the Great Merlina called.

Charlotte ushered them back into the dining room. “This will be fun. We’ve never done a séance before.”

“Nor have we necessarily wanted to do one,” Mary Ruth said. “It was way down on Alice’s list, and now she’s not sure she wants to do it.”

Charlotte got huffy. “It’s too late now. And let me remind you I hired her out of my own pocketbook to do this.”

Francine wondered about that. It was unusual for Charlotte to spend money on anything other than books or meals out. She’d grown rather used to it. Charlotte’s husband had died many years ago, and although he was a lawyer and made good money, his death had come unexpectedly early in life. Charlotte rarely commented about her finances, so Francine had no way to judge. Still, it was out of character. So why is Charlotte so anxious to do this?

It wasn’t long before they were all seated at the table. Marcy lit a single candle in an ornate gold candlestick in the center of the table. Mary Ruth insisted on setting it on top of a plastic placemat in case it dripped. Merlina groused but didn’t object.

They were just settled again when the timer in the kitchen buzzed. “I’m sorry,” Alice said, getting up. “I must have hit the button twice when I took the scones out of the oven earlier.”

“Apple-cinnamon?” Joy asked. Mary Ruth nodded. “I could tell by the amazing aroma. Can you spare one? I barely had time to down a bottle of water for lunch.”

“I’m glad you can smell them,” Alice said, heading into the kitchen. “It’s been a bad fall for my allergies. I can only get a whiff when I’m standing close.”

Francine did feel sorry for Alice. Her nose was perpetually clogged. It was sad to think she could only catch a whiff of the wonderful cinnamon and apple scent haunting the room like a ghost.

The timer continued to beep, then it went silent with a choked half beep. “Please return immediately,” Merlina called. “Hopefully we can continue with no further interruptions!”

“We’re going to have some cookies and scones after the séance,” Mary Ruth assured Joy. “I’m putting Francine in charge of making coffee to go with them.”

Charlotte waited four seconds before she became impatient. “Could we please just get started?”

“Coming, coming.” Alice trudged into the dining room.

“Alice,” Joy said, “you don’t sound excited, considering this was on your Sixty List.”

“Will everyone please stop saying that? I’m just on edge about it. Don’t we all feel that way about half the items on our list? They seem exciting and daring when you first write them down, but then you’re not sure you really want to do them when you get close to the time. That’s the way I feel now.”

The Great Merlina motioned everyone to sit. “Please. Nothing bad is going to happen. No one will come away possessed or anything. We are just seeking to contact the spirit world for guidance. Are we all agreed?” She didn’t wait for agreement or disagreement. “Then let’s join hands.”