The North Carlina Wellingtons of course

The North Carlina Wellingtons of course
I finally got the damn butternut squash peeled and chopped. Dumping the pieces into the baking dish was incredibly satisfying. I threw the pan into the oven before I wrapped Band-Aids around the fingers I had sliced up peeling the damned squash.  Satisfied I wouldn’t bleed on anything, I continued dinner. My mental fingers were crossed that Grandma Eleanor would stay away. While I dipped chicken in eggs and breadcrumbs, I thought back to the morning.

Ruby was sitting at the kitchen table taunting me. She was a feisty one. Her accent was not southern. There was undoubtedly Northern hostility in her tone.

“Where you from Ruby?” I didn’t really care. I just needed to delay her answers until the rest of the living could get in here. She shot me a look that clearly questioned my intelligence.

“Ohio. Moved up there right outta high school with my husband. Had to lose the drawl. “ I nodded. The kitchen suddenly felt crowded as my family and Michael joined us. The psychics were looking at Ruby while Michael was looking at me like I was a squirrelly acting dog. Libby was perched on a bar stole drinking her pink wine.

“Ok Ohio, why don’t we see if we can break this down.” I pointed at the figurine on the windowsill. “You showed up I bet when the other figurine got broken.”

Ruby gave a nod. Michael was falling my eyeline to his deceased sister-in-law. His jaw dropped when I said Ohio. Ruby was looking at him. Her fondness for him shimmering in her eyes.

“I’ve popped in from time to time over the years to make sure he’s ok. Seems I had been negligent in checking on him. This hussy snuck in.” Savannah and I followed her squinted eyes to Libby at the bar. “There I was soaking up the sun on a cruise ship in the middle of the Atlantic when I felt something odd. Popped in here to check on him. Found him in bed with the strumpet. Ask him what he sees in such a flashy girl! Never his kind of gal.”

“What’s that red head phantom saying about me?’ Libby’s words were slightly slurred. Glazed brown eyes tried to focus on the chair that I was talking to. “I didn’t break that creepy faced piece of clutter!”

“Less creepy than your face!’ Ruby was standing beside the tipsy woman of the house now. Libby grasped her chest with a sharp inhale. At a guess I’d say she felt the ice-cold finger Ruby was poking on her chest. Eerie laughter filtered in from the closet at the end of the kitchen. Aqua robe strolled through the wall.

“Jigs really up wouldn’t you say Ruby?” Aqua robe was definitely Southern. Not Texan. More like North Carolina. She walked through the bar to look Libby in the eye. “Strumpet is too kind of a word for this one.”

Jesse cleared his throat. I glanced his way reluctantly. There was about to be drama and I didn’t want to miss it. He had a raised eyebrow. I waved an absent hand his way. “Savannah be a dear and translate for the ghost deaf. OK Mrs. H. What should we call ya? Aqua just seems wrong.”

She reached a smooth looking alabaster hand out to me. “Harper Wellington. Of the North Carlina Wellingtons. Please forgive the casual attire. I had the misfortune of passing while preforming my nightly ritual.”

I took her hand as best I could since we couldn’t really touch. It was freezing with a slight charge to it. This close I could see the fire still burning in her eyes. I’d bet my Funko pop collection this woman had ruled her roost with an iron hand and a sharp mind. Dropping my hand, she turned to Libby with a bitter expression twisting her face. “This harlot knows what she did to deserve this. Ask her about Gregory.”

“Who’s Gregory?” Since I was looking her in the eye I saw Libby flinch when I said the name. She shrugged a delicate shoulder while downing what was left of her pink wine. “So, you don’t know the name Gregory Wellington?”

Michael was watching Libby close. I couldn’t remember how long they had been together, but I bet it was long enough for him to know her tells. Without a word he went into the closet at the end of the kitchen Harper had come out of. My family and his watched him. From the corner of my eye, I saw Libby pour more pink wine. Harper had moved to the bay window that faced the backyard. Michael came back carrying a metal flask. Still in complete silence he filled a glass with ice. Then he went and stood in front of Libby. Maintaining eye contact, he poured the contents of the flask over ice. He swirled it around then took a long drink.

“Michael!” Libby’s voice was sharp, riddled with censure. “You promised to stop drinking whiskey. You know I can’t stand the smell of it!”

“ Liberty Walker, who is Gregory Wellington?”