Giving Up the Ghost Read Online Free PDF Page B

white checked tablecloths.
    The doors at the back of the room swung open, and a buxom blonde emerged. "Dinner
for one?"
    "Yes," Gabbie said.
    The woman led her to a small table flush with the side wall farthest from the bar. Gabbie
sat on a gingham cushioned chair.
    "Tonight we're serving shrimp. Fried shrimp, shrimp diablo, shrimp sautéed, and
shrimp scampi. But we always have burgers and salads, if that's your pleasure."
    She sped away and was replaced by a pretty young waitress wearing a name tag "Sarah"
over her red-and-white uniform. Sarah repeated the menu.
    Gabbie forgot about the cheeseburger she'd planned on. "I'll go with the scampi."
    "Mashed, french-fried, home fries or rice?"
    "Home fries."
    Sarah grinned. "My favorite. You also get soup and a salad. All for twelve
     ninety-five."
    Gabbie ordered Manhattan clam chowder and the blue cheese dressing. Certainly not
dietetic, but she'd start an exercise routine once she got settled. Sarah returned a minute later with
her soup.
    "I made sure it's nice and hot," she told Gabbie.
    "Well, thank you," Gabbie replied, touched by the young woman's thoughtfulness. It had
been some time since anyone had bothered to please her. She took a spoonful of soup and sighed. It
was scrumptious--plenty of clams and not overly salty.
    Gabbie studied her fellow diners, and felt a pang of disappointment that none fitted
Cam's description of the Leverettes. Sarah served her salad and then the main course. The shrimps
were huge and succulent, the sauce zesty but not too spicy.
    She ate leisurely, comfortable with her own company, for once not self-conscious about
dining alone. The hum of conversation gave her a sense of community without the obligation of
joining in.
    She was contemplating dessert when the hostess seated a new party at the next table.
They were a couple in their late thirties, early forties and a sullen teenager--a tall, slender girl with
long brown hair.
    The woman was pretty and shapely, with wavy blonde hair cascading halfway down her
back. Her companion, a bearlike, lumbering man, wore an intelligent though perplexed expression,
as if his mind were miles away resolving a difficult problem. They sat in silence until the waitress
came to take their orders.
    Full as she was, Gabbie couldn't resist ordering a peach cobbler to go with her coffee.
While she was on her second cup, the party of three finished their main course and prepared to
leave. They'd hardly spoken a word, except for the few times the mother asked her daughter a
question and was rebuffed with a terse one-word answer. Poor woman.
    "Find everything to your satisfaction?" the hostess said when Gabbie went to pay.
    "Everything was delicious. I'll be back soon."
    "I'm Monica. My husband, Mike, and I own Logan's."
    Gabbie put out her hand. "Gabbie Meyerson. Pleased to meet you, Monica."
    "We're the closest you'll get to home cooking in CH. Wednesday night's pasta,
Thursday's meat loaf, Friday's fish, and Saturday's a surprise. Sunday and Tuesday nights you have
to fend for yourself."
    "Sounds good to me." Gabbie stopped in the vestibule and took a deep breath, as though
she were about to swim under water. Here goes. Miss Marple on the trail. I'll order a beer and finish
it, no doubt, before I think of something pertinent to ask the patrons at the bar.
    The door to the bar swung open. The man who was about to come out held it for her,
giving her no choice but to enter. In the dim light she could see most of the tables as well as the bar
stools were now occupied. The TV was muted, and a dreamy sixties song filled the room.
    "Over here, Gabbie," she heard someone call.
    Reese Walters was waving from the far end of the room. She hesitated before
approaching the round table where he sat with two other men. All three smiled at her with
expectant expressions.
    "Gabbie Meyerson, meet Terry Lopez and Jack McMahon. Fellas, Gabbie's the new
English teacher I told you about. Gabbie, why don't you sit down and have yourself