Under the Night

Part Two

   Mrs. Fincher followed Ida upstairs, wanting nothing more than a nap and a cup of tea. I should have grabbed the knife when I had the chance!  she thought with gritted teeth, Ah, yes, no more Finchy or Mrs. Fincher from this flighty odd biddy and only her money! It does seem...this ghost thing is funny...not as much as her belief in it, that is.

Ida shut the parlor door behind her, preventing her husband from entering. ("You're supposed to be working on your column, remember, Georgie Porgie?" "Yes, Mother.") Mrs. Fincher jumped. The room was so cluttered with Ida's cranberry-colored, glassy jars, vases, and bridal baskets she thought she was literally looking through rose-colored glasses. Ida swayed over to a heavy bookshelf carved with angels, removing the thickest book there. It was coated in gritty dust, which she blew until she coughed. Mrs. Fincher took the sofa across from her, pulling off her shoes. This was going to be a long day.

Ida flipped through the book until her huge eyes sparkled with delight.

"Here! This is my grandmother, Martha Stonefield Spinner! It says here that the family rumor is that she haunts her granddaughters by hiding under curtains and stealing their jewelry, which will then be found in random places throughout the home. Such as the kitchen, I suppose."

"Yes," Mrs. Fincher said, smirking, "That Martha's a smart one."

Ida slammed the book shut, causing a cloud of dust to spray out. Mrs. Fincher coughed violently.

"Ah, are you catching cold, Finchy?"

Of course not, you idiot! Mrs. Fincher thought, but she merely nodded.

"My party will be the sixteenth," Ida announced, "At noon-- that's the exact time I was born, you know. Then on midnight, there shall be a private visiting of my grandmother's spirit. You know, the one who likes my jewelry? George should have my Ouija board by then, and we'll...."

"But, Mrs. Pumphrey," Finchy protested, "Don't you have a twin sister? I'm certain Ada would like to be included."

Ida frowned, recalling her haughty, snorting, much-married twin.

"We don't talk," she said coldly, "Besides, it's about time I had my own birthday, complete with activities."

"You can't go ghost-hunting on the sixteenth; it's your birthday."

"Not if I do it at midnight. Then it'd be the seventeenth, Finchy dear."

"But you said...."

"Never mind what I said! Grandmother Spinner was born the seventeenth in...1790. Or was it 1791? A 'big time for the superstitious', the book said."

"Huh. That's a funny way of putting it."

"Or perhaps a mild one." Ida patted her housekeeper's hand. "Mrs. Fincher, I do hope you'll take the sixteenth off. It's my birthday, and I want everyone to partake in chocolate cake from King's Bakery. You know, where Jocko works?"

"At noon?"

Ida bobbed her head up and down excitedly, like a child.