Fixing To Die

Henry Howard sighed. “Make that a thousand and twenty. The way we’re going through lightbulbs lately, we ought to have stock in the company. I went up to check your rooms not long before you arrived, and all the bulbs were out. I replaced them for the second time in three weeks. I hope they’ll last while you’re here.” He shook his head. “I can’t figure out why it keeps happening.”

“That is bizarre,” An’gel said. “Have you had an electrician in to look at it? Perhaps there’s a fault in the wiring.”

Henry Howard gave a weary nod. “My friend Buzz checked it out, and he couldn’t find anything wrong.”

“Probably a power surge or something of that nature,” Dickce said.

“Could be,” Henry Howard said equably. “At least that’s a better explanation than saying the ghost of Mary Turner’s great-great-grandfather did it.”

An’gel couldn’t decide from the young man’s tone whether he was serious or making light of a worrisome situation. If incidents like this were occurring on a regular basis, it was no wonder Mary Turner’s nerves were frazzled.

She said as much and waited for their host’s reaction.

Henry Howard shrugged. “These things are irritations, but no one has actually been hurt by any of it. Other than our bank balance, that is.” After a quick, wry grin, he offered an arm to each sister. “Let’s forget about all of that for a while, what do you say, ladies? I don’t know about you, but I’ve got a hankering for some of Marcelline’s fresh cornbread with lots of butter.”

“With a big glass of sweet tea.” An’gel smiled as Henry Howard escorted her and Dickce to the dining room.

There they found Mary Turner and Benjy putting the final touches to the table. There were eight chairs, but the table was set for five—two places at one end, three at the other. An’gel didn’t see Peanut or Endora and reckoned they must be in the kitchen with Marcelline.

“Everything looks lovely,” Dickce said, and An’gel agreed. Mary Turner had set out white linen napkins along with her grandmother’s silver and second-best china. An’gel recognized the pattern right away.

“And smells heavenly,” An’gel said, eyeing the bowls of creamed corn, field peas, potato salad, green beans, a plate of cornbread, and a platter of ham—a good Southern meal.

Mary Turner smiled. “Thank you.” She turned to Benjy. “I appreciate your help. You’ve obviously learned well.”

An’gel noted that Benjy blushed on being addressed by their young hostess. His eyes appeared to follow her wherever she moved around the table. Mary Turner was a beautiful young woman, of course, and Benjy was still callow in some ways though quite mature in others. She trusted Mary Turner to handle the situation properly.

Henry Howard touched his wife’s shoulder briefly, and they exchanged a glance before he pulled out a chair for An’gel to the left of his end of the table. Benjy hastily did the same for Dickce, across from An’gel, then stood looking awkward behind Dickce’s chair. Henry Howard helped Mary Turner to her chair at the other end of the table, and she indicated the place to her right to Benjy. Henry Howard walked back to his seat at the head and took his place.

“Henry Howard will say grace.” Mary Turner bowed her head. Her guests followed her lead, and Henry Howard intoned a brief blessing.

For the next few minutes the only conversation consisted of requests for certain dishes to be passed and the requisite thanks for having done so. An’gel tried her creamed corn first and relished the taste. She loved corn, especially when cooked properly. She remarked on this to Mary Turner, who beamed with pleasure on hearing the compliment.

“Marcelline is a treasure,” the young woman said. “Her food is always wonderful. I have to watch myself, or I’d be as big as the side of a barn. Wait until you taste the carrot cake she made for us for dessert today. It’s the best I’ve ever had.”

“I love carrot cake,” Dickce said, “particularly with an ice-cold glass of milk.” She eyed her full plate. “If I eat all this, I might not have room for cake.” She laughed. “But I’m not going to let any of this go to waste.”

An’gel felt happy to see both their young hosts more relaxed. She pushed away thoughts of the odd experiences she and Dickce had earlier by the stairs. Time enough to consider those later, but for now, she wanted to enjoy her meal. She knew that, all too soon, they would have to face the real business of their visit to Natchez.

Benjy, An’gel noticed with some amusement, managed to eat while casting one covert glance after another at their hostess when Mary Turner’s attention moved elsewhere. When Mary Turner spoke to Benjy, he managed a few words in response but in such low tones An’gel never could quite catch what he said. She wondered whether their ward actually tasted anything. He didn’t appear to notice what he forked into his mouth. She caught Dickce watching Benjy also.