The Other Child by Joanne Fluke

sounded righteous. “You can see where she gets her attitudes. Did you notice the suit Karen wore to your house last week? It was raw silk and must have cost a fortune. She’ll probably have her maternity clothes designed in Paris!”
    Both women laughed loudly and Leslie caught her breath. She stood glued to the spot as Roberta continued.
    “I told Bud he had to be nice to Leslie.” Roberta’s voice was firm. “It’s not fair to judge the child by her mother. That big, splashy birthday party was Karen’s doing, I’m sure. She was just showing off. The poor little girl was probably embarrassed to death.”
    “That could be.” Marilyn sounded doubtful. “But I think Leslie’s just as bad as her mother. Taffy says she’s terribly stuck-up. Her manners are dreadful. Do you know she hasn’t called once since the party to see how Taffy’s hornet stings are healing? All she did was send a little thank-you note for the handkerchiefs.”
    Leslie’s mouth dropped open. She had called twice! And she’d even invited Taffy over on the last call!
    “Wasn’t that party strange?” Mrs. Allen had lowered her voice a bit. “It doesn’t seem right that every child got stung, except Leslie. Something like that almost makes me believe in those old haunted-house stories.”
    “Haunted houses in this day and age?” Marilyn laughed sharply. “I don’t even consider that kind of nonsense! It’s the people inside that makes a house look bad and that place has had its share of strange people . . . crazy, old Mrs. Appleton . . . the man from Omaha who shot his wife . . . the young couple that disappeared in the middle of the night in their nightclothes.... It just attracts them, I guess.”
    “I still feel sorry for that little girl.” Mrs. Allen lowered her voice even further, but it was clearly audible. “Having a mother who puts on airs, and who knows what the child’s real father was like?”
    Leslie’s knees began to shake and she reached up to finger the key around her neck nervously. She didn’t want to hear any more, but she didn’t dare leave. Mrs. Allen and Mrs. Comstock would see her and know she’d been listening if she so much as moved. She was trapped here, forced to listen to their awful gossip. The more she thought about it, the more angry she became. Someone should stop them from saying mean things. Someone should tell them it isn’t right to tell lies about people.
    Without realizing it, Leslie was gripping the key tightly. She gulped when she heard the familiar buzzing voice in her ear. It was the voice from her birthday party. Somehow she had wished hard enough and Christopher was here!
    I’ll stop them, Leslie. People said awful things about my mother, too, and it isn’t nice.
    His voice was strong, and Leslie began to tremble. Suddenly she understood everything. She was holding the key, and her friend had come to help her. Their house really was haunted and Christopher was the ghost!
    She panicked. She wanted to drop the key and run for home, but she was too frightened even to move. She was frozen where she stood, holding the key, listening to a ghost.
    You don’t have to be afraid of me. His voice was very clear now . I’m your best friend. I’ll take care of those old gossips for you. Just watch those cans.
    Leslie squinted as the fluorescent lights in the store flickered brighter and brighter. Her eyes hurt, but she couldn’t shut them. They were dilating, the blue receding until only the pupils remained. There was a throbbing in her head and she felt sick and hot. Her knees shook so hard she thought she’d surely fall down.
    As she watched, the pyramid of cans started to move slightly, jiggling and trembling at the bottom. Instinctively, she reached out to try to steady them, but it did no good. The shaking motion spread until the top cans swayed precariously. Then they started to tumble down.
    “Marilyn! Watch out!” Mrs. Allen’s shrill warning came too late. Both women tried to