Chapter 29: Seafood Lasagna

I yelped as soon as I spotted Haylee’s Uber pull alongside the curb in front of our house.

I dashed out the front door, unable to contain my excitement as she retrieved her bags from the car. I didn’t bother letting her utter a greeting before I collided with her and threw my arms around her neck, nearly bowling us both over.

“Dharma, give Haylee room to breathe,” my mother chided me from the front porch.

I released Haylee, who immediately dropped to the ground and floundered as she pretended to fight for air.

I laughed as I scooped up one of her bags and offered her my free hand. She gathered her other bag, and we walked hand in hand into the house.

“Hi, Mrs. Dupree,” Haylee sang as she dropped her bag by the staircase so her arms would be free to hug my mother.

“Hello, Haylee,” my mother greeted her warmly. “I see your acting skills have improved since elementary school.”

“Hey!” Haylee withdrew from her, pretending to be offended. “I took my role as a shrub very seriously.”

“I remember that,” I said, laughing. “You kept walking to the end of the stage to make sure your mother was still filming.”

Before my mother could insist on us breaking out our old photo albums, I abruptly changed the subject. “How was your trip?”

“The plane ride was fine. I can’t say the same for the Uber ride. The driver kept babbling on about his Troll’s collection!” she exclaimed. “Who collects Troll dolls?”

“You would be surprised,” I commented, shifting the weight of her bag from my shoulder. “Do you want to see your room?”

“Heck yeah, I do,” she said, reclaiming her bag from the floor. “I can’t wait to sleep in a haunted room.”

“I hate to disappoint you,” I told her as we ascended the stairs, “but since we swapped the chandelier for a plain, old overhead light, there hasn’t been any activity.”

“What did you do with the haunted chandelier?” Haylee asked, appearing devastated.

“I think my mother had Justin store it in the gardening shed until we can figure out what to do with it.”

“The gardening shed?” Haylee asked, looking hopeful. “Where the previous occupant’s stuff is stored?”

“Virginia Cole was the previous occupant,” I reminded her.

“The occupant before the previous occupant,” Haylee corrected herself. “It sounded better the way I said it. Anyways, I planned on making you take me out there anyway. You said we could go through the stuff in the boxes together.”

I had agreed to that, but after reading Virginia Cole’s book, the act of rifling through the Johnsons’ private possessions seemed invasive. But, not wanting to disappoint Haylee, I said, “We can go out there after lunch.”

Haylee squealed as soon as we entered the pink room. I had set up the air mattress in the center of the room and sacrificed my new bedding to make the room more aesthetically pleasing.

In addition, I had borrowed some candles from my mother and garnished the shelves with some dry herbs my mother had purchased when she had visited the city.

“I love it!” Haylee gushed, peering through the sheer curtains at her view of the neighborhood. “I’m surprised your mother didn’t put bars on the windows after your break-in.”

“We can’t afford it right now,” I sighed. “But if we had the money to splurge, this place would be sealed up tighter than Fort Knox.” I moved to help her unpack but she stopped me.

“We can do that later. I’m starving,” she interjected. “They didn’t offer us anything on the plane other than stale trail mix.”

I made a face. “Come on, my mother made some pakora especially for you.”

Haylee moaned with pleasure. “My mother bought a pasta maker last week, so now that’s all we eat.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” I offered.

“There are only so many ways to make a lasagna,” Haylee proclaimed. “We even had a seafood lasagna that made everyone sick. There are some meats that are not meant to be stuffed in noodles.”

After lunch, I took her for a tour of the gardening shed.

“It’s just a bunch of junk,” I complained as Haylee began to paw through the box I had unsealed.

“It’s like a time capsule,” she countered. “I think it’s neat to see what teenage girls during that era cherished.” She paused as she lifted the diary that I had discovered on my first day.

“It’s locked,” I told her. “I couldn’t find the key.”

“Aw, that’s too bad. I guess we will never know what this little book contains—Oops!” She applied pressure to the lock and feigned surprise as it snapped. “Well, I guess I’m obligated to read it now.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as Haylee propped the tiara on her head.

“Perhaps I will even read it while wearing my new crown,” she said.

“It’s probably infested with lice that will happily nest in your curly hair,” I teased her.

“Gross,” Haylee said, snatching the tiara from her head and tossing it back into the box. “Leave it up to you to ruin a good thing.”

It was growing muggy in the shed, so I walked outside while Haylee finished examining the remaining items, making remarks each time she discovered something she found interesting.

For a moment, I thought I would have to discourage her from attempting to haul them all inside, but eventually she emerged only clutching the journal.

“Come on.” I motioned for her to follow me back inside. “I have to change. I’m all sticky now.”

“I should change too.” Haylee lifted the collar of her T-shirt to her nose. “The passenger next to me smelled funny, and I think the cotton in my shirt absorbed their odor.”

I cackled as we entered the house.

“You two need to stop squealing,” my mother complained as we crossed paths with her in the hall. “The neighbors are going to think we are raising pigs.”

“We will try to keep it down, Mrs. Dupree,” Haylee promised as we dashed down the hall, anxious to return to the second floor where our antics wouldn’t irritate my mother.

“My room is this way,” I informed Haylee as she paused and gazed into my mother’s room. Compared to my mother’s room, mine was rather dull, and Haylee wasn’t afraid to tell me so.

“It wasn’t my first choice,” I informed her. “I wanted to move into the attic, but my mother told me I couldn’t.”

“Why would you want to live in a dusty old attic?” Haylee asked as she turned her back to give me privacy while I changed. I hurried to shed my black T-shirt and selected a purple tank top to replace it.

When I finished, I saw that Haylee was examining my straw doll.

“What is this marvelous creature?” she inquired.

“It’s a straw doll,” I explained. “It’s supposed to promote sleep. It’s from a neat shop in town.”

“I want a straw doll,” Haylee whined.

“Maybe Mom will let me borrow the car so we can go into town and get you one.”

“I would like that.” Haylee replaced the doll on the shelf and propped her sequestered diary next to it. “Now, show me this attic that you so badly want to inhabit.”

“Right this way,” I said, grinning in anticipation. As we climbed the stairs, I warned her, “Watch out for black widows. We sprayed, but some may be struggling to survive.”

“I wish you wouldn’t have told me that,” Haylee said, releasing the banister so she could use her hands to protect her bare arms.

As we finished our ascent, her fear of spiders was suddenly forgotten. Her arms dropped to her sides as she found herself awestruck by the massive stained-glass mural.

“If you think that’s impressive, wait until you see the shower,” I proclaimed, leading the way into the bathroom.

Haylee’s expression was neutral as she entered the bathroom, but when she saw the shower, she gasped and walked inside.

“I bet ten people can fit in here!” she said, her voice echoing. “I wonder if Virginia Cole had it commissioned for that purpose. I read some of her books. She seemed like she was kinky.”

“It’s possible,” I said.

“Your house is so cool,” Haylee remarked as she exited the shower.

“This house is a shack compared to Justin’s,” I informed her. “I think it would take a month just to tour his first floor.”

“Oh, you didn’t tell me how that went!” she said, suddenly intrigued. “What was his dad like? Was he like those frumpy fellows my dad always watches on Bloomberg?”

I shook my head. “He’s stylishly handsome, and though he was nice to me and my mother, he sort of seems like a dismissive parent. I feel bad for Justin.”

“Poor Justin…all alone in his giant mansion.”

I reached out to swat her arm, but she dodged my advance. “I’m serious. Neglect is a form of abuse.”

“Can’t he move in with another family member?” she inquired.

“I don’t know.” I sucked in my bottom lip as I was reminded of what Justin had shared with me. “It seems as if his family has been through the ringer.”

“That just means he’s no different from three-fourths of Americans,” Haylee pointed out, then abruptly switched gears. “I don’t want to spend my entire weekend listening to you moan about Justin. Let’s go to town and visit that shop you mentioned.”

“I do not moan over Justin!” I shot back as we descended the stairs. “Justin makes me moan, though…”

Haylee gagged, and we both laughed.