Chapter Two
Ray Middleton glared at his daughter through thick, horn-rimmed glasses and placed his Science Today journal aside. “There are no such things as ghosts, Carly, and you and I both know that.”
“You’re over tired dear, that’s all.” Sarah Middleton placed a bowl of marinara smothered meatballs on the table and took her seat. “You’re working too much and trying to get that house shaped up and it doesn’t help that now you’ve had to kennel poor Rags for a few days.”
Carly picked absent-mindedly at her spaghetti. This conversation only confirmed that even her parents thought she was suffering a nervous breakdown.
“Once your house has been fumigated for those spiders, we’ll go have another look around in the attic.” Ray picked up his journal again. “Ghosts, my ass.”
“Now, Ray.” Sarah put a meatball on Carly’s plate. “There’s no need to curse.”
Carly allowed herself a brief smile. Her father rarely swore, so it humored her to finally find a topic, other than genetics, that interested him. Dinner with her parents usually consisted of Mom chatting away about a new recipe while Dad scoured his journals. But when Carly mentioned the strange occurrences in her house and how Larry pronounced it haunted, her father’s attention piqued.
“Ray, put down that magazine and join us in conversation.” Sarah gently removed the magazine from Ray’s hand. “We’re concerned about Carly’s house this evening. Let’s figure out how to help.”
Carly smiled gratefully at her mother, a sweet, plump, five-foot-two blond, who always knew how to win over her tall, dark and serious husband.
Ray smiled in submission. He removed his glasses as Sarah fixed him a plate. “Well, it’s hard for me to think that my own daughter would even consider the existence of paranormal activity.” He turned his attention on Carly. “The only place ghosts exist is here.” He tapped at his temple. “In the mind. People get the notion that ghosts exist and then they trick themselves into seeing and hearing things.”
“I know, Dad.” Carly returned the smile, remembering how her father always rationalized away her childhood fears with some scientific explanation. He could always help her feel better. Too bad he couldn’t come up with a good reason as to why Greg left me for an x-ray technician named Mindi.
“How’s the fumigation going, dear?” her mother asked, as if spider infestations were an every day occurrence.
“Great, Mom.” Carly put down her fork. “The lady said-”
“The lady?” Sarah looked shocked. “A woman is doing the fumigating?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’ll be! Imagine that, Ray. Women doing pest control.”
Carly shook her head, amazed how her mother was born in the fifties and her thinking never left the decade. “Mom, it’s the twenty-first century. Women have all sorts of jobs.”
“Oh, I know. But when I think of those pest control people, I don’t picture women.” Sarah reached for the salad. “Anyhow, what did this pest control lady say?”
“I have either brown recluse spider or house spider infestations.”
Ray looked up from his plate. “That’s not good, Carlene. Those things are dangerous.”
Sarah stopped eating as well. “Oh dear. No wonder no one wanted to rent it.”
“No wonder we didn’t see them on our several walk-thrus before we helped Carly buy it,” Ray added.
“It’s okay, Mom, really. I only noticed them the other night. Although now I’m noticing them a lot on the ceiling.” Nothing like a good infestation to spark dinner conversation. “Anyhow, I should be able to go home late tomorrow morning. Thanks again for letting me stay here.”
Sarah reached over and patted her hand. “Of course you can stay here. Where else would you go? I made up the guest bed, dear, and put fresh towels in the bathroom. Oh, and I’m terribly sorry our condo community won’t allow for animals.”
“I know.” Carly tried to eat another forkful of her favorite meal, but the thought of poor, senile Rags in a kennel upset her.
“What are your plans for this evening, Carly?” Her mother spoke brightly, in an obvious attempt to change the subject, but not even Barbara Billingsly and Donna Reed combined could help Carly feel better about Rags.
“Nothing.”
Her father’s head popped up from his plate and his eyes sparked with hope. “There’s a good program on television tonight. The Anatomy of Ant Hills. It looks quite interesting.”
Carly feigned enthusiasm. “Oh, that’s nice, Dad.”
“Oh Ray,” Sarah laughed. “Really. She wouldn’t be interested in that. Oh, I know! Why don’t you come with me to St. Agnes’s? Bingo starts at seven. You used to love to play.”
“Yes, when she was seven.” Ray said, with a wink to Carly.
Carly offered an apologetic smile. “That’s okay, Mom. I think I might go for a walk downtown. The exercise will do me good.”
“Oh. That reminds me.” Sarah rose and brought a magazine over to the table. “I heard of a new diet I might try, Carly. The Cabbage Patch Diet. There’s this new patch, you see. You wear it and then you don’t eat anything but cabbage for the first three days-”.
“And at the end of it you’re two feet tall, have a scrunched up face, crooked smile and get sold at Toys R Us,” Ray interjected.
Carly laughed.
“Oh Ray.” Sarah said. “Well, at least you got our Carly smiling again.”
“That you did, Mom,” Carly said. “That you did.”
