Superstitions and Apparitions (The Sisters, Texas Mystery Series Book 13) by Becki Willis

Author:Becki Willis [Willis, Becki]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-03-21T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

“How’s that roast coming along?” Wanda asked as she came into the kitchen.

“It’s done,” Miss Sybil replied, “but we all know that the longer a roast cooks, the better it is.”

“Smells good, that’s for sure.” Wanda took in a deep breath of appreciation. “How about those potatoes? They done yet?”

Granny Bert turned from the pot she tended to glare at Wanda. “Who put you in charge? You think we can’t cook a meal without supervision?”

“I never said that. But the kitchen’s always been my domain. It feels strange, letting someone else do the cooking.”

“We all feel that way, Wanda,” Miss Sybil assured her. “All four of us spent our lives cooking and cleaning and caring for our families. It’s what we know.”

Seeing her friend’s dejected look, Granny Bert softened. “You can make a salad if you want. And some of your sweet tea.”

“I made the tea this afternoon when we made the cobbler. But a salad should go nicely with our meal.”

Wanda opened the refrigerator and rummaged through the bins, looking for the makings of a salad.

“Lordy be! What kind of racket are you making over there?” Granny Bert asked.

“That wasn’t me,” Wanda insisted, her eyes wide with surprise.

All three women stopped in their tracks, going on full alert. Virgie was in the living room, but this racket came from the opposite direction.

Miss Sybil inched closer to her friends. “That sounded like a window breaking,” she whispered.

“A tree limb, you reckon?” Wanda asked with manufactured hope.

“No trees near the back, and that came from the back of the house,” Granny Bert said.

The chest of drawers still blocked the back door, so she reasoned that the office window put up the weakest defense. She held a finger to her lips to indicate silence. With only her squeaking bones to betray her position, she eased toward the kitchen door to listen.

Muffled sounds of movement came from the back room. Someone was definitely in the house.

Granny Bert turned back to her friends, motioning for them to join her. “Grab a weapon!” she whispered. She already had a rolling pin in her hands. She had foolishly left her gun in the living room. “We’ll ambush them.”

The three of them crowded around the doorway. Granny Bert stood on one side with her rolling pin, Sybil stood on the other with a frying pan, and Wanda stood a few feet behind them, her large body a formidable sight even without the long tines of the roasting fork. She held it like a spear.

A shadowy figure moved into the dimly lit hallway. Darkness had fallen, and no one had thought to turn on the hall light. Shadows made the tension that much thicker. As the women waited for the person to come forward, the seconds ticked away like hours. Aging muscles, taut with apprehension, made the weapons they held feel as heavy as cannonballs.

The timing for their ambush was everything.

First, a foot appeared. As a jean-clad leg came into view, shifting its weight upon approach, Granny Bert knew the person moved with slow, deliberate stealth.

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