“Oh, no trouble,” says Mrs. Potts. “I’m on my way out the door, but I wanted to invite you for dinner tonight. Jenny’s coming over and I’m going to roast a chicken. There’ll be more than enough food for the two of us. I thought it might be nice.”

“Oh,” says Shelly’s mom, who doesn’t really like cats or Mrs. Potts very much. “I don’t know, we wouldn’t want to intrude . . .”

Mrs. Potts shakes her head. “Nonsense. I’d love the company.”

Shelly’s mother looks annoyed, but not enough to say no. “Thank you, Edna,” she says. “Can we bring anything? Dessert?”

“Dessert would be lovely,” Mrs. Potts says, smiling. “Come over around five.”

Shelly’s mom waits for Mrs. Potts to go back inside then looks down at Shelly. “Okay, well, I’m going to go buy a pie at the grocery store,” she says. “Tell Grandma we got ambushed and I’ll be home in half an hour.”

“Sorry, Mom,” Shelly says, grinning up at her. Going to Mrs. Potts’s house isn’t too bad—she gets to play with the cats. “Apple?”

“Apple,” Mom agrees.

• • •

Jenny Potts answers the door when they knock. Her short hair is a brown so dark it almost looks black, and she’s dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, not like a cop at all. Shelly’s not used to seeing her in anything but her uniform. “I’m sorry about this,” she says, stepping aside so they can enter. “Mom’s got a bee in her bonnet.”

“I don’t have a bee in my bonnet, I have ghosts in my house!”

Shelly’s mother, carrying a pie from the nice grocery store, the one that bakes things from scratch, looks immediately and thoroughly unimpressed. “Ghosts.”

“I told her she should just talk to your mom if she’s worried she’s being haunted, but . . .” Jenny shrugs. “She wanted to have you over for dinner.”

Grandma laughs and pushes past Jenny into the house. “Edna, let’s see what we can do,” she says. “It might just be the cats.”

“I can tell the difference between a cat and a ghost,” Mrs. Potts says. “I might not talk to spirits, but I know my cats.”

“Can I help?” Shelly asks, looking up at her mom. Normally she’d just do it, but with her mother there, asking seems important.

Mom hesitates but nods. “You can help.” She looks at Jenny. “It’ll be something small, if it’s anything.”

“Drinks?” Jenny suggests. “While they do ghost things?”

“Please,” says Shelly’s mom.