Page 39 of The Mare Rider of Cornwall Cove
“Thanks, Grampy Kee,” Phil replied, his eyes growing a little dewy.
“Aw, thank you, Grandpa.” That warmed me internally like a bowl of hot soup. Oh man, soup soundedsogood. “Can we possibly have some hot and sour soup for lunch?”
“Of course, anything for the courageous and kind paranormal investigators of Kee and Kestrel!” Grandpa crowed, then stuck his tongue out at a state trooper exiting his car. Monique chastised him. Phil threaded his fingers through mine, lifted my cold hand to his warm lips, and kissed my palm.
“Don’t be upset that he put our name first,” I whispered while the two lovebirds in the front bickered about which was the fastest route to Cornwall Cove.
“Never. I don’t care whose name is first. He can call it Kee and cornball with a K for all I care. I’m just happy to be part of it with you.”
Yeah, I was feeling that same feeling right down to my toes. I could face just about anything with Phil at my side and my slightly offbeat family in my corner.
***
Nothing says home and hearth like soup made with love—Grandpa always makes the best hot and sour soup in the world—and special friends. Sadly, Phil would have to enjoy it later as he literally crashed after he took his hot shower.
Everyone was here waiting when we walked in. Immediately, Roxie and Tray enveloped us in hugs. Reggie was over by the register dabbing at his eyes with the corner of his red coat, leaking faux tears of joy. Ghosts don’t cry, but he was quite good at being dramatically weepy. Even Sir Thomas seemed happy to see us, giving me a soft little purr and leg rub before walking through the front door to make his spectral alley pass.
After our greetings, Phil and I excused ourselves so we could take a hot shower. Phil went first, dried off and then stretched out on the bed to wait for me while I took mine, but when I came back into my room wearing my slippers and a thick robe, he was out cold, snoring like a bandsaw. So I bussed his cheek and covered him up to his chin and whispered we’d save him some for later.
I dove into the soup, chewing the bamboo shoots and shiitake mushrooms as my eyeballs sweat. Tray had to give up after a few sips, the soup being far too spicy for his tastebuds. Grandpa did have a heavy hand with chili flakes and white pepper. After two bowls, my cheeks—both sets—were toasty, so I sat back, patted my tummy, sipped tea and nibbled on an egg custard tart.
“I love this soup so much,” Roxie slurped another spoonful while Reggie sat atop the fridge, listening while preening like a turtle dove. Why he was fussing with his hair, I didn’t know, but it would all come out in the wash, as Monique liked to say. “I’m really sorry I jumped the gun so badly on this episode. It was a cluster from the beginning to the end, so you have my word that the next stream will be done right. Permission from everyone and their beagle, research out the ass, and a few more cameras.”
“Just a couple more,” Tray mumbled around a bite of his own tart. “I think we can swing it with the new numbers.”
I looked from him to Roxie. Monique gave us weary smiles and snuck off down the stairs. Grandpa was puttering about cleaning up his soup.
“New numbers?” I asked and got a happy nod from our tech/PR team.
“Three thousand new subs and a new sponsor! Lasting Light Memorials.”
“That old house with all the cement tombstones, urns, and rather frightening angels out on Luck Run Out Road?” I lowered my fork. She nodded. “Well, that’s cool and pretty fitting. Glad to see the numbers going up, since we’ll probably get a fine for trespassing.”
Roxie hid behind a handful of braids. “I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t be. We’re grown men. We had to know there was a good chance someone who owned that place would find out. You didn’t hold a bazooka on us or anything. Next time we’ll do better.”
“Mistakes are the bridge between inexperience and wisdom,” Grandpa chimed in before handing Roxie a container of soup to take home. “You finish up the tarts, but keep one for Phil. I’m going to go meditate and then take a nap. I think you should join Phil in bed, Archimedes.”
“I am, Grandpa,” I vowed and finished my tart and walked Roxie and Tray to the front door of the shop. After another round of hugs, I locked the locks behind them and turned to see Monique sitting on the plum sofa.
“I’m quite glad you’ve returned to us all in one piece,” Reggie stated as he floated down the stairs looking quite dandy if I did say so myself. All his buttons polished, his boots gleamed, and his hair combed back from his face.
“Wow, you look pretty spiffy. What’s the occasion?” I asked. Monique looked up from whatever she was fiddling with, then smiled at me and returned to her work.
“No occasion. Can’t a military man simply shine his boots without undue tawdry gossip?” Reg snapped just as Caleb entered the shop via the front window. “Oh, it’s you. Why I completely forgot you were dropping by to borrow a book. Well, I am quite slumberous, but I suppose we can find a fitting novel for you and spend a few moments reading it aloud. Come along!”
Reggie floated back to the romance section. Caleb bowed to Monique before haring off after the marquis. I made my way to the little alcove under the stairs and sat beside Monique.
“What’s our resident phantom getting into tonight?” She lifted a smallish doll made of straw from the table. I stayed her hand.
“Is this what I think it is?” I enquired as the small drawing of a star on the moppet’s chest grabbed my eye.
She tucked the doll into one of her bulging totes. “I can’t say as I don’t know what you think it is.”
Oh, she knew what I thought it was. “Tell me more about Papa Legba. You do know that for him to appear to you is a testament to the powers you possess with the denizens of the land of the dead. Not everyone can be heard by a deity.”
“Well, he never actually spoke to me, and the offerings that you probably blessed and supplied were what brought him through the gate.”
