Hungry Spirits [Spirits 04] (9 page)

I decided that my irritation stemmed from the fact that, if Lucy’s attraction was reciprocated, Sam might desert my family and, therefore Billy, for Lucy instead. Billy’d lost too much in his life already; he couldn’t afford to lose a good friend like Sam, too.

That explanation didn’t sit comfortably with me, but it was the only one I could come up with that would account for the unusual reaction I had to Lucy’s obvious curiosity about Sam Rotondo. The sole comfort I could garner from the situation was that Sam seemed oblivious to Lucy’s fascination with him. I decided not to think about it. We got a good deal of practicing done that night, and Lucy’s father picked her up, so I didn’t have to drive her home. Not that I’d have minded.

Lucy and I practiced our duet again on Thursday night at choir rehearsal, to the applause of the rest of the choir and Mr. Hostetter. Their approval made me feel a trifle better about life in general.

This happy attitude lasted until Saturday night, when Lucy came to dinner at our house. I’d conducted myself quite well at the cooking class that day, amazingly enough. Flossie had made name tents, so I got to fix names to faces. Gertrude still appeared more frightened that I deemed appropriate, although I didn’t know why and nobody told me.

We fixed crumbed potatoes, the recipe for which appeared on page eighteen of
Sixty-Five Delicious Dishes.
It was the simplest recipe I could find in the stupid book, because I already had enough to do that day. I’d aimed to conduct a subtle and clever interrogation of my students, paying particular attention to Gertrude Minneke, but I didn’t get the chance to do so, because she ran off the instant the class was over, clutching her crumbed potatoes as if she expected them to save her life. Nuts.

I took the leftovers home for dinner. Dinner was, of course, wonderful, because Aunt Vi cooked it. My paltry potatoes went pretty well with the beef loaf she fixed. Thank goodness none of my family members mentioned my cooking class, because the fact that I taught the class at all still embarrassed me. This, in spite of three weeks of moderate successes. It was evidently going to take me a good deal more than three weeks without a disaster to overcome a lifetime’s worth of cooking failures.

At any rate, Lucille Spinks came to our house for dinner, which was tasty, and we aimed to practice our duet afterwards. Ma offered to wash and dry the dishes for us since we needed to practice, but we helped her. We already knew the song, after all, and were only getting together for one last rehearsal. Besides, Ma worked very hard during the day. She shouldn’t have to work at night, too.

When the dishes were done and my family was ensconced in the living room reading, I trotted to the piano and played the music through once. And then Lucy and I began singing. We sounded pretty good together, but she positively
grilled
me for information about Sam Rotondo in between verses.

“
Is he a married man?” she asked. I think she was attempting to act as if she were merely slightly curious, but she did a mighty poor job of it.

“
He’s a widower,” I told her, trying hard not to snap.

“
Oh, the poor man!”

Right. “I think he’s over it now.”

Lucy gave me a puzzled look. “How can you get over the death of someone you loved enough to marry?”

Good question and one I couldn’t answer. Yet. “Well, I didn’t mean it that way. But I think he’s over the worst of his grief.”

“
How did his wife die?”

Boy, she just wouldn’t let the subject drop, would she? Holding in my temper, whilst wondering why I was in a temper in the first place, I answered. “She had tuberculosis.”

“
Oh, that’s so sad.” To my absolute amazement, Lucy snatched a hankie from her pocket and dabbed at a leaky eye.

“
Yes,” I said. I think I meant it, but I was so confused by that time, I’m not sure.

“
He’s not from around here, is he?”

Fighting my aggravation at Lucy’s probing, I said, aiming for sweetness, “He’s originally from New York City. I believe he and his wife moved to California for her health, but by the time they got here, it was too late.”

Lucy tsked. “Does he have any children?”

Sam Rotondo? A father? I thought not. I couldn’t even imagine such a thing. “Um . . . no.”

Lucy gave a mournful sigh.

To forestall more Sam questions, I inquired brightly, “Do you think we have the song down well enough, or should we go through it one more time?”

Thank God she responded to my question instead of asking me for more information about Sam Rotondo, the bane of my existence. We sang the song again. Then she thanked Aunt Vi for a lovely dinner, said good-bye to my parents and Billy, and we left.

When I drove her home, however, she started in on the Sam issue once more. I considered driving the Chevrolet into a tree but restrained myself.

“
Do you know how old Detective Rotondo is?” asked Lucy.

“
No.” Sensing that was too short an answer, I elaborated even though I didn’t want to. “I mean, I’ve never asked him. I think he’s a little older than Billy. Late twenties or early thirties maybe?”

“
Perfect,” Lucy said in something akin to a purr.

“
Perfect for what?” I asked, hoping my peevishness didn’t come across in the question.

“
Well, I mean . . . I mean . . . I. . . .” Lucy’s words stuttered to a stop.

“
Are you interested in him in . . . in a romantic way?” I asked at last, even though her interest had been obvious from the moment of their meeting.

I’m sure she blushed again, but it was too dark in the machine to see. “Well, I think he’s an awfully attractive man. And he’s a detective and all. I think that’s very . . . interesting.”

“
Hmm. Maybe.”

Lucy tossed her head. “
I
think being a detective must be interesting work. And at least he’s alive and employed. So many young men aren’t these days.”

“
That’s the truth.” Not only had thousands of our young men died, thanks to the evil Kaiser, but the country had been in a financial slump ever since the war ended.

“
And, yes. I guess I am interested in him,” Lucy said at last. “I don’t know about the romance part.” She giggled.

Nuts.

Chapter Six

In spite of Lucy’s inexplicable interest in Sam Rotondo and my irritation resulting therefrom, she and I sang our duet beautifully in church the next day. As we sang, I was surprised to see Sam sitting in the congregation next to my family. Even though he’d visited our church before this, I was pretty sure Sam wasn’t a Methodist. Weren’t all Italians Roman Catholic? It then occurred to me that he might have come on account of Lucy. For some reason, that made my spirits sink. What was the
matter
with me, anyhow?

My surprise at seeing Sam, however, paled in comparison to the astonishment I felt when I espied my student escapee, Gertrude Minneke, sitting in the very back row of the church. What in the world was
she
doing there? Not that I begrudged her attendance at my church, but I should have thought she’d attend services at the Salvation Army, if she went to church anywhere. It occurred to me that nothing in my life was going the way it was supposed to be going, even down to people attending the wrong churches, and that was making me grumpy; and
then
it occurred to me that I should probably just give up trying to figure things out. Life was complicated, sometimes more often than not, and there wasn’t a blessed thing I could do about it.

Shoot, perhaps Sam had come to church to keep tabs on Gertrude, although I couldn’t think how he’d have known she’d be there. Maybe he’d set spies on her. Since he wouldn’t tell me why he was interested in her comings and goings—or goings and hidings—there was no way for me to know. My brain was beginning to hurt, so I decided it would be better to concentrate on singing the song and forget about other people’s actions.

In spite of my fuddled musings, everyone seemed to enjoy our duet. The minister even complimented Lucy and me on our “lovely voices.” I suppose he’d have said something nice even if we’d stunk, but we didn’t. We were good.

After the service I’d rid myself of my choir robe and joined my family in the fellowship hall, where the congregation always gathered after church for cookies and tea and coffee. I spied Gertrude at the back of the hall, all alone, looking like she wanted to run away. Then I spied Lucille Spinks, her hand on Sam’s arm, gushing at him, while he looked down upon her, a bemused expression on his face.

I turned my back on the two of them and aimed myself at Gertrude.

She slid around a corner just I approached, but when I, too, turned the corner, she was waiting for me in the hallway. I smiled benevolently at her, or tried to. “It’s so nice to see you here, Miss Minneke.”

“
Thank you, Mrs. Majesty.” She looked nervously up and down the hallway. She gave a big gulp and blurted out, “Mrs. Majesty, may I speak to you for a moment?”

“
Of course you may.” Oh, boy! Maybe I’d finally learn why she was as skittish as a spooked bunny rabbit! “Is something the matter, Miss Minneke? You seem a little . . . worried about something.”

“
Oh, no!” cried she. I didn’t believe her. “There’s nothing wrong. I . . . I just wanted to come to this church today. Your duet was beautiful.” She added the last comment perfunctorily, as if she thought she needed to say something nice about me.

“
Thank you.”

“
I wanted to see you and where you went to church.”

How very odd. Rather than saying that, I said, “How did you know I went to this church?”

“
Captain Buckingham told me.”

“
Ah. I see.” But I didn’t. Why had she asked Johnny where I attended church? I probably should have asked her, but I didn’t want to appear too awfully nosy.

We stood there, staring at each other, for several seconds. Then Gertrude said, “Well, I probably ought to be getting home now.”

“
Won’t you stay for a while after we chat and have some cookies and coffee?”

“
Oh, no. I really don’t. . . .”

“
Ah. There you are.”

Startled by this new voice, I turned to see Sam Rotondo standing in the doorway. “Were you looking for me?” I don’t think I hid my incredulity very well.

“
Billy was asking where you went,” he said.

“
I’ll be right there.” When I turned around again to ask Gertrude if she’d like to meet my family, she’d vanished.

What in the world was going
on
with that woman? I turned back to Sam and prepared to return to my husband.

But Sam was staring down the empty hallway. “Was that who I think it was?”

Sighing, I said, “If you thought it was Gertrude Minneke from my cooking class, the one who keeps running away, then yes, it was.”

“
She ran away again.”

“
I guess you’re just a frightening fellow, Sam.”

He frowned at me. “There’s something odd about that woman.”

“
I suppose there’s something odd about all of us,” I said, shrugging and wishing everybody would revert to behaving as I expected them to. I was really annoyed that Sam had butted in just when I might have been able to get to the bottom of the Gertrude puzzle. “What made you come to this church today, for instance? That seems odd to me.”

He shrugged. He did that a lot. I decided I was going to hit him if he refused to answer
that
question. I might have hit him if he said he came to church to see Lucy, too.

“
I just thought your song was pretty and decided to hear it in the venue for which it was created. The two of you sounded very good together.”

Oh. Well, that took the wind out of my sails. I said, “Thank you,” humbly.

Billy and my folks were seated at a long table in fellowship hall, and Lucy and her family sat with them. I plunked myself down next to Billy’s wheelchair.

“
Where’d you run off to?” Billy asked.

“
I thought I saw one of my students.”

“
One of your students?” This, from Lucy. “What are you teaching, Daisy? I thought you read palms for people. I didn’t know you taught school, too.”

Billy snickered, blast him.

Ignoring him, I said, “I’m only teaching a seven-week course at the Salvation Army.”

“
Oh?” Lucy sounded positively fascinated, curse her. “What’s the subject you’re teaching?”

Have I mentioned that Lucille Spinks was tall and skinny and had rather rabbity teeth? Well, she did. Not that she was ugly or anything.

I took a deep breath and tried to recollect if Lucy knew about my many cooking failures of the past. I wasn’t sure, but you never knew about these things. Bravely daring, I said, “Cooking.”

Lucy didn’t burst out laughing, so I guess she was ignorant of my past misdeeds in the kitchen. “Oh, my. How fascinating. Why are you teaching the class at the Salvation Army?”

“
Captain Buckingham is a friend of ours. He’s the one who asked me to teach the class.”

“
Oh! I think I remember him from school. Johnny Buckingham, isn’t it?”

“
He’s the one, all right.” I wished she’d drop the subject.