THE GHOSTS OF TWIN ARBORS (Excerpt)

September 27, 2018 by CS Devereaux

CS Devereaux

… It began with little things: the front door swung open when the first guests

arrived—but no one was there to greet them. Upon entering, frigid foyer air tickled their skin. Nanna helped Holly in the kitchen—she repeatedly raised or lowered the flame on the stove, returned spices to the cabinet before Holly had used them, and hid food items not to her culinary taste. Meanwhile, Emily provided entertainment in the living room. The high-spirited young miss, inspired by the music, displayed her sauciest dance steps. Her prancing feet shook the floor and cocktails shimmied in glasses. The youngster twirled and two-stepped around the perplexed party-goers as she flounced her petticoats and kicked up her heels.

Nanna sensed something was amiss and drifted into the living room. Miss

Emily Hightower, whatcha doin’ botherin’ our comp’ny? Git yourse’f upstairs dis minute!

Emily poked out her lower lip and went upstairs to play with Magnolia. Soon, the living room chandelier swayed to thumps emanating from the room above.

Casting uneasy glances toward the ceiling, the couples bantered with Doc but said nothing about it until Holly entered the room.

“Is there someone upstairs, dear?” Genie smiled, pointing a finger to the

ceiling.

“Just Maggie the cat,” Holly explained. “She’s quite large. Dinner’s in five

minutes, y’all.”

From her end of the dining table Holly could almost see Nanna gliding a few

feet behind Doc, vaguely distinct in her long, dark-colored dress and white apron. Holly alone heard Nanna’s petticoats rustle. It appeared as if Nana was tippling the wine, but she couldn’t be sure. Magnolia and Emily entered the room after everyone sat down. The cat settled herself on the open window ledge behind Doc and fell asleep. Barely discernable, Emily, her pale ginger hair braided, and wearing a striped pinafore, stood nearby, stroking her kitty companion’s silky white fur.

At the table, unaware of otherworldly onlookers, the guests enjoyed the meal Holly had prepared. Conversation was lively and laughter filled the room in a way that reminded Nanna of the days when Mr. and Mrs. Hightower entertained.

Don’t dis just smack of de days when you mama and papa was alive? Nana said.

Yes’m it does, Emily sighed. I miss ‘em. This is nice, though. I like these

people.

Mmm-hmm. Dey nice enough, Nanna mused.

“More wine, anyone?” Doc stood and stepped to the sideboard. He picked up the bottle he had opened a few minutes before and set aside to breathe. It was partially empty. “How did that happen?”

“I don’t know, Honey,” Holly said, hiding a smirk behind her napkin. “You must have poured a couple of glasses from it.”

“Right. Or maybe that irritable ol’ ghost you told me about is slugging our vintage Louis Jadot. You never mentioned she was a wino, too.”

“A wine-nipping ghost? That’s a good one, Doc,” Genie chirped. The guests cackled.

Sah! Who you callin’ old! Nanna bristled. Move outta da way, Angel baby. I’m gonna fix his wagon! Fuming, Nanna rolled up her sleeves and scanned the room. She settled her peevish eyes on the sleeping Magnolia.

Emily took a couple of wary steps back. She knew from long experience that anything could happen when Nanna got riled. Without warning, Nanna picked up the napping cat and tossed her in Doc’s direction—just as he leaned forward to take his seat.

Nanna’s cat-lob overshot Doc entirely.

With a startled screech, Magnolia flew over his head, her claws lashing the air faster than she could run. Her large, furry body landed on a platter of Chicken Marsala, spattering sauce, chicken, and linguini in every direction.

Magnolia performed a whirling dervish through plates and glasses, spilling wine and water, and spreading Marsala and mayhem from one end of the table to the other. Everyone reeled. Squeals and shouts erupted. A distinct form of involuntary expletive burst from the mouth of each guest as the evening meal smutched their clothing, hair, and face.

With a soaring leap over Holly’s left shoulder, Magnolia—her white fur blotched with asparagus and balsamic vinaigrette—launched into the air, anointing her mistress with anything not already deposited on her guests. The frightened feline bolted through the living room and scurried upstairs, trailing strands of linguini.

Emily shrieked with laughter. This is the best party ever! She danced once around the dining table and disappeared up the stairs behind Magnolia.

Nanna darted toward the kitchen in a vaporous huff and vanished…