Chapter 19: A Dinner Party

The table was set for ten, and Donna Fulchino was finishing up the last of the baking. Soon, nine members of the PTO would be at her house, and they would discuss the holiday fair and what needed to be accomplished prior to opening the doors for a single vendor. Donna stepped out of the kitchen and wiped sweat from her brow with the hem of her apron.

I still need to change my clothes and touch up my foundation, she thought, dropping the apron and smoothing it out. I have the gluten-free cake and cookies for the Olson sisters, the nut-free cookies for Drake and Mark, and everyone else should be fine.

She walked around the dining table, checking the status of the forks and the spoons, the knives, and the napkins. Neil and the girls had been banished from the house for the day, Donna having given her blessings about a trip down to Boston so the girls could go to the aquarium.

So long as they’re not brawling in the basement or their bedroom, I’ll be happy, she had told her husband, and Neil had cheerfully agreed to the task. Donna knew how focused she became and how difficult when it came to decorating. Holidays were rarely pleasant around the Fulchino house. The stress she placed on herself, and by proxy, her family, was enough to send most people in search of alcohol.

Donna thrived on it. She was at her best when a large event was scheduled, and while the dinner party for the PTO would put a dent in her recreational budget for a while, it was more than worth it to her. People will speak about my passion for entertaining, my ability to plan and to manage affairs, and they will believe it could transfer into local politics when I decide to run.

Because that’s the inevitable goal, isn’t it? she asked herself. Donna smiled. It definitely is.

Neil had no political aspirations. Or really any aspirations other than to clock his forty hours as the lead maintenance man for the school district. He wasn’t involved with the union, nor was he ever active in the Anger political scene. Unlike Donna.

She leaned over the table and corrected a long, white taper candle that was slightly crooked. With a nod, she turned and then stopped as something clattered on the table.

Facing the table again, she looked with surprise at the candle she had just fixed.

It was out of its holder and on the table.

Frowning, she picked it up, shivered at the sudden chill in the room, and set the candle back in place. Stepping away from the table, she froze as multiple items struck the table. Whirling around, Donna saw that all four candles were on the tablecloth. She shook her head, considered replacing them, then decided against it.

This is strange. Why is this happening? Is someone in here?

A rush of fear swept through her, but rather than fleeing the house, she snatched up one of the knives, dropped down into a squat, and jerked the tablecloth up to peer into the depths beneath the table.

Nothing but the legs of the chairs greeted her eyes.

Letting go of the tablecloth, but still gripping the knife, Donna straightened up. As she did so, the candles rose up from the table, hovering several inches from the surface.

She stared at them, unable to move or speak. The sight was both mesmerizing and horrific, and she swallowed dryly, trying to understand what she was seeing and how it could be possible.

Her hand shook as she lifted the knife and pointed it from one candle to the next. When she spoke, her voice trembled, the fear rife within her words. “Whatever you are, whatever sort of spirit you are, you need to leave. I’m, I’m telling you that you have to leave my house.”

The candles crashed back to the table, and she let out a shuddering cry. As she tried to collect herself, she let the knife tumble from her hand, and she hugged herself tightly, trying to understand what she had just seen and why it had happened in the house. She took several deep breaths, tried to shake off the overwhelming sense of fear invading the room, and turned around.

Donna screamed at the sight of a small woman in the kitchen doorway. The stranger’s eyes were blood-red, and, despite the fact that she was there, Donna was certain she could see through the woman.

“Who are you?” The weakness in her own voice shocked Donna.

“Someone a lot like you.” The stranger stepped into the room and nodded with approval at the dining room. “You spent a lot of time on this.”

Donna felt a chill as the woman passed by her. When she replied to the stranger, Donna’s voice was still weak. “Yes, I have a dinner party. They’re going to be here anytime.”

The woman glanced over her shoulder and smirked. “Don’t kid a kidder. If they were anywhere close to being here, you’d be pulling your hair out by the root. You need to do your makeup and change your dress. I saw the cookies and desserts. They only just came out of the oven. So, no, they’re not going to be here soon.”

“What do you want?”

“Me?” The stranger stopped and looked with genuine surprise at Donna. “Nothing. Nothing at all. I saw you cooking and was curious as to why. What’s so special that you’re feeding this many people? A wedding? Funeral?”