Page 12 of Ghost in the Cupboard

Ginny sighed heavily. She turned back to put more sandwiches down on the griddle.

“Fine,” she replied.

I wrapped the last sandwich and began putting the ready soup and the finished sandwiches in a large paper bag for Sal. Ginny had one more round to finish on the griddle before Sal would have her order. Within the next five minutes, Ginny and I had gotten Sal’s order together and I was sliding the bag across the counter to her. She made a production of tightly wrapping her inadequate scarf around her neck before lifting the bag off the counter to cradle with one arm.

“Bring the deli containers back if you want to help us save money.” I reminded her. “We can wash them up and reuse them for y’all.”

Sal gave me a nod and stood up straight. With a puff of her chest, she said, “Back into the fray I go!”

With that, she left the shop, as much a tornado as she arrived.

“That woman,” Ginny said, shaking her spatula at the door, “is something else.”

I went back to work to help her get more sandwiches ready to fire as needed. Over the next few hours, Ginny and I grilled sandwiches and ladled soup into to-go containers for the residents of Sage Grove. Our clientele typically consisted of the unhoused, disabled, and elderly citizens who found cooking for themselves difficult. However, due to the blustery weather, we had several people come in to get a cheap, easy lunch that they ate at the counter as they visited with us and we cooked.

Though the flow of patrons was sporadic, and we never hit a chaotic moment, the time seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. Before I knew it, the soup pot was down to the dregs and we’d run out of bread. Fortunately, the sun was nearly set outside, a pinkish-purple sky aglow with the last rays of light. Everyone knew we only served lunch, so we’d have no more patrons for the rest of the day.

Being the types to clean as the day went by, there was little to take care of as we set about closing up The Lunch Counter for the day. With only a few dishes and utensils to wash, and counters and griddle to wipe down, the jobs would be complete before we knew it.

“I can finish the cleaning,” Ginny announced as she wiped her hands on her apron with finality. “If you need to get out of here and get a headstart on the nightly dark workings.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I mean, I could use extra time to work on internet requests,” I said. “And Max is bringing a cupboard out tonight he thought I might like. So…yeah. I’ll take you up on that.”

I pulled the hand towel I had tucked into my waist of my pants out and tossed it at Ginny. She caught it in the air and growled playfully at me.

“Sorry,” said. “I’m full of dark workings.”

Seconds later, I was being chased out of my own diner by the whip cracks of a hand towel behind me. Ginny was glaring at me through the window of The Lunch Counter as I slid into my car and buckled myself in safely. I gave Ginny a wave, which she begrudgingly returned as I pulled away from the diner. The ghost that had been following me for months leapt into the car and took a seat next to me.

I’d become accustomed to this behavior and simply ignored him as I drove down to the gas station. Less than a minute later, I’d screeched to a stop outside the Gas & Go, and leapt from the car. Even slamming my door behind me, I knew I was doing nothing to dissuade, or stop, the ghost from following me. So, I continued to ignore him as I walked through the encroaching night to the store.

Caleb was at the checkout counter by the front door when I entered, yawning into a fist, but managed to give me a polite wave with his other hand as I breezed by. I gave him a polite nod and headed to the coolers, the ghost moaning and groaning as it floated behind me. Though we have a small grocery store in town, if I need something simple, I usually stop at the gas station if I’m on my way home. In and out in under two minutes is more my speed. Additionally, Caleb isn’t too much of a talker, which makes picking up a carton of milk at the gas station much more pleasant.

After making my selection, I made my way back up to the front of the small store, milk in hand, ghost on my heels. Caleb gave me a curious look, but said nothing, as I set the carton on the counter before him. He glanced at the front window of the store and blinked at the last bit of light coming over the horizon, then turned his attention to my transaction.

“Not enough sleep for the night shift again?” I chuckled as Caleb rang me up.

“Never enough to deal with the harsh light of day,” he said.

I laughed at his joke.

“Four-twenty-seven,” Caleb said.

I grimaced as I reached for my wallet, which amused him.

“Grocery store is cheaper,” he said as he took the five-dollar bill I passed him.

“But then I wouldn’t get the ambience of the gas station,” I replied.

Grinning, he made change, and held the coins out to me as I slid the quart of milk from counter. I shook my head and nodded at the jar on the counter labeled as donations for the local unhoused population. Caleb deposited the coins into the jar; the clinking sounds my soundtrack as I headed to the door.

“Thanks,” I turned to say as I pushed the door open with my hip.

“See ya’ next time,” Caleb replied.

The ghost rode along with me all the way home, moaning from time to time, sometimes saying things that actually made sense. As always, I ignored it, though I knew it knew that I could see and hear it. It had been so long, being bothered by the ghost that I wasn’t certain it’d ever give up. However, from past experience, I knew everyone—even ghosts—had their limit. Eventually, it would tire of its efforts with me and go out in a search of someone else who might help it.