Exclusive by Fern Michaels

you are. I am, and we’re two peas in a pod. So there.”
    Laughter from the table across from theirs forced Toots to glance at the occupants. A young girl was laughing at something her mother, or maybe an older sister, was saying. Toots wanted to make sure she hadn’t overheard the talk of ghosts. Toots knew that if she heard someone discussing such an insane topic, she would laugh, thinking the speaker was one slice short of a loaf. Apparently the pair were simply laughing about something else, enjoying their lunch, because they never once looked in her direction.
    Not only was she seeing ghosts but also she was becoming paranoid. She cast a glance at Dr. Sameer’s table. Gone. He and Amala had managed to slip out without being noticed. Strange, Toots thought, that they didn’t stop by their table to say good-bye. Then she remembered that Amala hadn’t seemed to be her usual charming self. Maybe it was the thought of turning thirty.
    “Earth to Toots?” Sophie fanned her hand back and forth in front of her face.
    “What?”
    “You’re not listening to anything I’m saying, are you?”
    Miguel appeared with Sophie’s drink, saving Toots from having to reply.
    “How can I not hear you? You haven’t stopped flapping your jaws since we arrived. And we are not two peas in a pod, absolutely not, no way. I’m not judgmental either. I simply call things as I see them.”
    “Oh, and that’s not being judgmental? I see. I guess the rules don’t apply to you.” Sophie grinned.
    “Shut up, and let’s order. I for one am damned sick and tired of eating all those fruits and vegetables Mavis has been shoving down my throat.” Toots scanned the menu, then tossed it aside as their waiter approached the table to take their order.
    “Two Kobe-beef burgers, medium rare, loaded with extra cheese and triple the mayo. And I’ll have a double order of fries. Add some ranch dip, too. I haven’t had a decent meal since forever.”
    “Mavis would kill you if she were here,” Sophie said, then added, “I’ll have the same.”
    The waiter wrote down their order and scurried away.
    “Yeah, well, thank goodness she isn’t. I don’t think I can survive much longer on that junk she’s been feeding us. My body isn’t used to all that fiber.”
    Sophie laughed. “We’re a friggin’ pair, aren’t we? Bitching about poor Mavis, who’d give anything to be eating the artery-clogging meal we’re about to have. Whatever you do, don’t tell her we had beef. She’s all but stopped eating red meat.”
    Toots took a sip of her tea. “Good, she doesn’t need it anyway. I want to take her shopping, but she keeps insisting on remaking her old clothes. I wish I were more like Mavis.”
    “Yeah, she is one for the books. She likes to sew, so let her. Some of her new designs, or remakes as she’s calling them, are much better than the originals. Maybe she could have a second career in fashion. Who knows? I need a cigarette. I’m going out front to smoke while you wait for our food.”
    Toots rolled her eyes. “Be my guest. That’s considered rude, just so you know.”
    Sophie looked left to right, and when she saw no one was paying her the slightest bit of attention, she stuck out her tongue. “Like I give a good rat’s ass. I’ll smoke one for you.”
    Sophie raced off before Toots could respond. Toots needed a few minutes alone with her thoughts anyway. Last night’s event—no, she couldn’t call it an event; that word was reserved for funerals only—last night’s haunting had scared her much more than she’d let on. Part of her questioned what she’d seen. Had she actually seen a ghost? Ghosts? Or, and this was what really frightened her, were the mysterious figures just figments of her imagination? Was she losing touch with reality? Maybe the haunting was an early sign of Alzheimer’s disease, or a brain tumor. When she’d mentioned those possibilities to Sophie, she had been serious. Toots wasn’t sure which