Page 48 of Ghost in the Cupboard

I ignored her.

“I guess I’m just not feeling great,” I said.

I faked a small cough into the crook of my elbow.

“Felt a little down when I went to sleep last night. Probably just an allergy or sinus thing. Worn down.”

“You better not be getting sick!” Ginny wailed as she portioned out the casserole. “I’ve got so many tests this week that I cannot miss!”

“I’m not sick.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’m not running a fever,” I said, chuckling. “It’s just a sinus or allergy thing. You know? Autumn. Once all the trees have shed their leaves and winter settles in, I won’t have a single sniffle until Spring.”

“True,” Ginny said.

“That’s twenty,” I said, snapping the last lid on a to-go tub.

I put the last stack in the bag for Sal, folded the top, and pushed it to the side. Ginny already had most of the casseroles we’d baked off portioned out and in containers, so I went up and down the table where she’d laid them out, snapping on the lids. Everyone that came into The Lunch Counter could get a portion or two and heat them up at home. Or eat them cold. Whatever tickled their fancy—we weren’t the food police.

“I wish we had more to offer today,” Ginny lamented.

“I know,” I said. “Fresh groceries in the morning. But you know we have to use everything up. Spoilage doesn’t look good here. We can’t waste anything. Tuna noodle casserole it was.”

“I know, I know,” she said. “It just feels cruel.”

I laughed and went around the counter to sit down on one of the stools, groaning as I lowered myself. Ginny glanced at me over her shoulder, but said nothing. Instead, she finished dishing out the rest of the casserole from the pans and put the lids on the last few to-go containers. Whoever came in within the next hour would get a tub or two. Anything still sitting out after an hour would be put in the fridge for another time.

Or Ginny could take the leftovers to the dorm and pass them out to her friends so it wouldn’t go to waste. If she didn’t think it would offend them too much. Though she had plenty of thoughts about the casserole, I had a feeling her poor college dormmates who had been living on instant noodles for weeks or months would probably be glad to have the food. I was opening my mouth to give her my suggestion when a cold gust of air rolled through the diner.

I spun on the stool, the vinyl crackling under me and the turn mechanism creaking as I did. The front door was wide open and Sal was rushing inside, pushing the door shut against the wind that was trying to force its way inside. Once the door was closed and she turned to face me, I couldn’t help but grin at her wind-rustled hair and the scarf that had flapped up to cover most of her face.

Shaking with cold, she reached up and peeled the scarf from her face. Her skirt had ridden up, but fortunately not so far to be indecent, and her coat look insufficient for the coming weather, but other than that and her hair, she looked unbothered. She beamed upon seeing me and rushed over to the counter.

With Ginny still distracted behind the counter, Sal leaned down to whisper to me.

“Doc Stephens’ old place has been a boon,” she murmured. “We stay plenty warm there at night. Thank you, Si. And give our thanks to Caleb.”

I nodded as she quickly straightened up. Ginny turned around as Sal straightened and gave her a smile.

“Usual order, I’m afraid,” she said to my partner before glancing at me. “I don’t have a lot to offer today.”

“Keep it,” I waved her off as I leaned an elbow on the counter. “With winter coming I’m sure everyone could use some socks or whatever you can manage.”

Sal got rosy cheeked but said nothing. She gave me a polite nod of thanks and turned her attention back to Ginny.

“Si got you all bagged up already,” Ginny said. “This is on him. It’s tuna noodle casserole. I told him it was cruel to do to the folks in town who come in for their lunch, but he’s evil. You know how he is.”

Sal patted my back jovially and laughed at Ginny’s comments.

“Everyone in the camp will be glad to have it,” she said. “You won’t hear one complaint from us.”

“We have another delivery tomorrow,” I said. “Tomorrow’s menu will be much better.”

“No complaints.” Sal repeated herself.

Ginny retrieved the bag from the prep table and set it on the counter before reaching for the tie of her apron.