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“Sounds great,” Ben said, angling his head and taking the lead to show Bunny the way. When they reached the refreshments table on the back lawn, Bunny grabbed a dwindling jug of homemade lemonade.
“Here,” Bunny said, generously pouring out the last of it into Ben’s cup. “You take this, and I’ll grab some more.”
“Gee, thanks, sis,” he teased her. They both knew she’d been giving him the last of every treat for years, and neither of them would have it any other way.
“Mmhmm,” Bunny sassed him back, pretending to be unimpressed even though she didn’t mind in the slightest. Tammy was setting the table, and Ben moseyed on over to chat with Declan at the grill while Bunny moved toward the house, lemonade jug in hand and Death in tow.
She let herself into the house and took one step inside the kitchen before she stopped in her tracks.
There, right in the middle of the kitchen counter, a huge bowl of potato salad was being stirred to perfection by a chunky wooden spoon that seemed to be moving entirely of its own accord.
Bunny blinked, wondering if perhaps she was hallucinating. But sure and steady, the spoon still stirred as she opened her eyes wide. She watched it moving rhythmically around the bowl for a few more seconds, just to let the sight really sink in. And then she tore her gaze away from it long enough to look at Rosie.
“What are you doing?” Bunny asked hesitantly.
Rosie just about jumped out of her skin, dropping the paper cups and plates she’d been gathering to bring outside. They fell onto the kitchen floor with a plop, and the wooden spoon in the potato salad clattered to a halt.
“Bunny!” Rosie exclaimed, her voice high with shock. “Is everything okay? Do you need a refill?” She glanced at the lemonade jug in Bunny’s hand.
“That was weird,” Death announced, eyes wide as he looked from the potato salad to Bunny.
“Your spoon was just… stirring itself,” Bunny said, looking from Rosie to the potato salad.
“What?” Rosie’s brows furrowed, and she glanced at the potato salad too before laughing. “Don’t be silly. Here—let me get that for you.” Rosie tried to take the lemonade jug from Bunny, but she pulled it back out of reach.
“I know what I saw,” Bunny insisted, her voice low and even. She met Rosie’s eyes. “How did you do it?”
She really expected another denial but was surprised even more when Rosie sighed and shrugged.
“We all have our own little secrets, Bunny,” the brunette said, sounding slightly apologetic. There was a beat of silence between the two women, and then a gleam of interest sparked in Rosie’s gaze.
A sudden chill ran right up Bunny’s spine.
Bunny didn't know what to say. She tried to cover her awkwardness using every ounce of acting skill she possessed, but she could tell by the look on Rosie’s face that the other woman wasn’t fooled.
“You have a presence with you,” Rosie insisted gently. “I can feel it, even though I can’t see it.” She paused, pressing her lips together before she fixed Bunny with a sympathetic—even supportive—look. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”
Bunny had to resist the urge to snort. Rosie didn’t know the half of it.
Correctly interpreting Bunny’s silence for an unwillingness to share, Rosie shrugged a shoulder suggestively. “Okay,” she said slowly. “You tell me what’s going on, and I’ll tell you how my spoon can mix potato salad without needing me attached to it. Deal?”
If there was one thing Bunny hated, it was unsatisfied curiosity. And she really wanted to know what the hell had been going on with Rosie’s spoon.
Her analytical mind kicked into overdrive as she tried to quickly weigh up the pros and cons of coming clean to Rosie about what had been going on.
Pro: it would be nice to be able to talk to someone about all this who was a bit more neutral than Roberta.
Con: Rosie would probably think she was nuts.
Pro: Rosie might have an idea about how she could deal with this whole ‘Death doesn’t remember who or what he is’ scenario.
Con: Death was listening to them both right now and would overhear everything they said.
It was looking like a pretty even keel.
Fuck it. If Rosie decided to start going around saying Bunny could see dead people, Bunny could just deny it. Hell, she hardly ever came back to Mosswood anyway. She took a breath.
“There is a presence here with me,” Bunny confirmed. Her eyes flicked in Death’s direction, and she watched him raise his brows in surprise from where he was leaning against the kitchen sink. She gestured vaguely in his direction. “He’s standing next to you right now, actually.”
