Bartholomew 02 - How to Marry a Ghost Read Online Free PDF Page B

She died recently and left it to her niece, Frances Cook, and Franny’s renamed it the Old Stone Market because it’s situated right on the Old Stone Highway. She’s got big plans for it, wants to give the place a total makeover. She’s already overhauled the kitchen so she can cook food to go.”

    2 6 P
    Hope McIntyre
    He swung the Jeep off the beach and onto a road and suddenly I was glimpsing houses dotted here and there in the woods.
    “And this little community we’re just coming into is called Stone Landing. I like to think it’s not really part of what people call the Hamptons. It prides itself on being a quiet, peaceful neighborhood—you got retirement couples here as well as people who want to raise a young family far away from urban chaos.”
    He rambled on about Stone Landing, telling me how it was hidden away and balanced, a touch precariously due to the ero-sion of the bluff, high above Gardiner’s Bay. It was comforting listening to him describe the area with such affection and I marveled that someone so young wasn’t tempted by the “urban chaos” he had mentioned, just a hundred miles away in Manhattan.
    We drew up to a parking area outside a sprawling wooden building with a white picket fence running off to the side. Pickup trucks were parked at random. Rufus whistled.
    “Never seen so many cars here on a Sunday morning. Franny must be doing well.”
    But then the screen door banged shut and a construction worker came out of the store shaking his head.
    “Wouldn’t go in if I were you. It’s bedlam in there. She don’t know what she’s doing.”
    When we stepped inside, I couldn’t see Franny Cook for the throng of men shouting orders at her. I caught glimpses of her frying eggs, flipping bacon, plucking toast from the toaster, and lining up the orders on the counter.
    “Hey Rufus,” she shouted above the crowd. Her voice was gravelly, as if she’d just smoked a pack of Camels. “Jesus didn’t show this morning. I’ve gotta take care of everything myself.Anything you can do to help would be appreciated. Hey, sir!” she yelled at a man who was pushing his way in front of the others.
    “Line forms on the right.Wait your turn like everyone else.”

    How to Marry a Ghost
    P
    2 7
    “Jesus is her breakfast cook,” said Rufus. He pronounced it
    “Hayzoos.” “I’d better get in there and help out. Franny, coming through! Hang in there. Listen everybody”—he turned to the construction workers milling about—“it’s a beautiful day. Go sit outside and I’ll bring you your orders.”
    I was impressed by how quickly they obeyed him. The store emptied as they streamed out to the picnic tables, and as she came around the counter bearing a plate of bagels with cream cheese high above her head, I had my first proper look at Franny Cook. She was about six feet and rangy with the longest and most shapely legs I had ever seen. In fact everything about her was long and shapely—her arms, her neck, her fingers. She had the kind of shoulders on which you could hang an old sack and it would look good and her head was tiny with a close cropped poodle cut that emphasized her large brown eyes. She was wearing a pair of skintight denim shorts and a cutoff tee that revealed her nut-brown abs.
    “It was bad enough when she took over her father’s caretaking, now she’s got to ruin Mickey’s as well.” An old lady had just come in and was waiting in line beside me. My eyes appealed to Rufus to rescue me and he beckoned me outside.
    “Here, have a muffin. Banana and oat bran, Franny bakes them herself. I’ll bring you a coffee.”
    He returned and sat down opposite me.
    “Franny’s poor old dad worked his fingers to the bone trying to pay his property taxes and then he dropped dead at fifty-two.
    He was the caretaker around here, watched people’s houses in the winter, mowed their lawns in the summer, and when he died Franny stepped in and carried on where he left off.You’ll see her