Page 83 of A Haunting at Keystone Manor

Frankie eyes the pan, nodding in approval. “These look surprisingly edible,” she says. “I think you missed your calling in life.”

“Thank you?” Alex says, apparently not knowing if that was supposed to be a compliment.

The table goes quiet as everyone starts digging into their food, the only sound in the room the clinking of forks on the porcelain dinner plates. After a minute, Debbie clears her throat.

“So Kayla, how have you been doing, dear? I hear you spent a bit of time in jail?” Debbie asks.

Kayla, just about to take another bite, sets her fork down. “Oh, I’ve been doing okay. I’m out on bail for that. Allegedly. It’s been tough. I’m turning states evidence in order to take down the Covington empire. You know, once all this is over, I’m thinking about going to law school. There are just so many people that have had their lives destroyed by malicious prosecution, and I’d like to be an advocate for them. You know?”

Alex stares at her, flabbergasted, but he holds his tongue.

“Preach it girl,” Frankie says. “Someone has to stand up for the rights of us little people. My cousin Robert was accused of stealing radios out of cars. Got a year for it.”

“Oh, was he falsely accused?” Kayla asks.

“No, he really did steal them, but the cops were super shady about the way they busted him. It’s like, just because he’s driving around with radios in his trunk, that automatically means he stole them?” Frankie rants, and I can see the quizzical look on everyone’s faces.

“Um, yes? Probably so?” Alex says.

Frankie just shrugs. "They totally violated his memorandum rights. The whole case should have been thrown out."

The room falls into a confused silence.

“Well, that’s wonderful, Kayla. I’m glad you’re turning your life around. I hope everything works out. But you and I will be talking later, sweetie.”

Kayla gulps and looks back down at her food.

Debbie turns to Alex. “I didn’t know you could cook, honey,” she says, beaming at her son.

Tom nods his agreement as he takes a bite.

“Fine work, son,” he says.

“Thanks!”

Beside me, Sasha clears his throat. “Who made these enchiladas again, Alex?”

Alex rolls his eyes. “Yes, Sasha did help. I found the recipe, though.”

“You did a really good job,” Seth tells Sasha with a shy smile. Sasha smiles back and winks, making Seth blush.

Brandon has already devoured three of his enchiladas. I’m glad Sasha and Alex made so many. Stoners and their appetites, I think with a small shake of my head.

“Can I have the recipe?” he asks. “These would be amazing after a smoking sesh.”

“Sure. You’ll have to cook them yourself though,” Alex says.

“Can we hire a personal chef to cook for us? The guests would probably be super chill with that, too,” he says hopefully.

“Not in the budget, unfortunately. Maybe when we’re more consistently booked.”

Brandon nods his head and scoops another enchilada out of the pan. Alex and I, being ghosts, don’t partake, but they smell amazing.

Debbie sets her fork down, looking over at me. “So how are you doing sweetheart? Is therapy going okay?”

I smile, happy that she cares enough to ask about me. “Yeah, it’s going good. Lisa comes by once a week, and so far I really like her. She says I have PTSD, so we’re working on coping mechanisms, exposure therapy, things like that. She’s helping, so… it’s good.”

“I’m so glad to hear that,” she says.