How about a little palette cleanser after last night’s bloodbath? And, you know what? I think this might be the latest into October that we’ve gone before actually seeing a ghost in one of these stories… In any event, let’s just hope our mischievous ghost here doesn’t mess with the actual baking going on…

Jesse scanned the ingredient list of the molasses cake recipe. He had the dry ingredients whisked together in a bowl while he reconstituted the raisins with rum and hot water in a separate, smaller bowl.

“In a separate bowl…” he read aloud quietly, “…whisk together molasses, sugar and melted butter… Okay…” he looked over his mise en place scattered around the kitchen table and shook his head. “Molasses… how could I forget that in a molasses cake?”

He opened the pantry cabinet door and took in the contents.

From behind him, the female ghost smiled, “You’re never going to find it…”

Jesse scowled. “It was right here – I remember… that’s why I was going to make this cake in the first place… Where did it go… He reached in and pushed jars of spices and extracts around, looking for the signature yellow Grandma’s Original glass jar.

Behind him, the ghost giggled.

Jesse had both arms in the cabinet now, digging all the way to the back to no avail. He retreated for a moment and pulled the flashlight out of the junk drawer, partially surprised the batteries still worked as he shone the beam into the cabinet, the various bottles casting odd shadows as he looked for the jar.

After searching for ten minutes, he stepped back and scowled at the open and disheveled cabinet.

“Honey?!” he yelled without taking his eyes off the cabinet.

“Yeah?” Joanne called back from the family room.

“Did you use the molasses?” he shouted back.

“Molasses?” she replied in a questioning tone. “No… why?”

“I’m looking for it.”

Jesse could hear the scoff from the other room.

“Seriously, have you seen it?”

“Yeah,” she called back. “It’s in the pantry cabinet. Just to the left of the stove. Probably…umm… middle shelf.”

Jesse eyed the middle shelf. “Yeah… not there.”

“Did you even look?” The reply came from the next room.

“Yes, I looked!” Jesse said with annoyance in his voice.

“Really looked? Or did you Man-look?”

Jesse bit down on his frustrated retort, waited a moment and replied slowly, “Yes, I look-looked, not man-looked. It’s not here.”

“To be fair,” the ghost nodded behind him, “he did look…” No one could hear her or her tinkling little laugh.

“I’m going to come in there and find it.” Joanne paused, “Are you okay with that?”

“Joanne, I looked, okay? It’s not there. I would appreciate you confirming that before I run to the store…”

He could hear her set her iPad on the coffee table and walk towards the kitchen.

When she came in she looked at the mixing bowl and scattered ingredients. “What are you making?” she asked.

“Molasses cake,” he replied.

“Ooh, yum,” she smiled at him. “That sounds delish! Where’d you get the recipe?”

Jesse pointed to the open laptop on the counter. “I’m starting with the NY Times recipe, but making some modifications…”

As he explained his rationale for swapping rum for the hot water for reconstituting the raisins and the appeal of freshly cracked black pepper, the ghost stepped up to the cabinet and moved around a few items, and pulled the jar of molasses to the front of the cabinet. She peered over her shoulder to see both Jesse and Joanne were engaged in the recipe discussion and she quietly closed the cabinet.

“Do you think splitting the granulated sugar for partial brown sugar will work?” Jesse asked.

Joanne frowned in concentration before answering, “With the rum raisins and the spices already doing so much, I’d keep it all white sugar this time.”

Jesse nodded thoughtfully. “Okay… and the molasses?”

Both turned their attention to the cabinet. Jesse raised an eyebrow at the now-closed cabinet as Joanne moved to open it. Right there, front and center of the middle shelf, she took hold of the yellow glass jar and turned to Jesse. “Male-pattern blindness,” she said nonchalantly.

“No, that wasn’t… it wasn’t… no…” Jesse sputtered as the ghost covered her mouth with her hands and laughed uproariously.

“It’s okay,” Joanne said, setting the molasses down on the kitchen table as she continued back to the living room, “You couldn’t see past your Y chromosome…”