Free The Ghost and Mr. Moore by Ryan Field Page B

money on
     
clothes, but he would spend money on food and the occasional drink at a bar. “But what
     
could I possibly do to help? I don’t even own a business in town.”
     
“Join the association and help us fight this,” Elliot said. “You don’t have to own a
     
business in town. You own a home and you’re part of the community now. The new
     
president of the chamber doesn’t own a business either, yet he’s the one trying to cancel
     
the fundraiser. It’s not going to be an easy fight, trust me. But you can get something interesting for the reality show you’re doing. If this controversy builds like I think it will
     
build, there are going to be a lot of interesting moments. With you being a real
     
Hollywood celebrity, we might be able to gain a little power. Plus, we’ll get national
     
exposure. Are you interested?”
     
Dexter took a deep breath and stared out at the ocean. It sounded like a case of the
     
little guys going up against the big guys. And he liked the fact that he’d be fighting for a
     
valid cause that provided money for people with AIDS. So he reached out for Elliot’s
     
hand, shook it, and said, “Count me in.”
     
* * * *
     
The school bus dropped Brighton off at three o’clock. When Dexter walked into
     
the house at five, she was sitting at the kitchen table helping Marion bake an apple pie.
     
She was mixing the apples and sugar and spices with her hands; they were coated with
     
sticky brown goop. Cleo barked and wagged his tail. and Brighton jumped off her chair
     
and ran to the back door to give him a hug. When she wrapped her arms around Dexter’s
     
waist, she left imprints of apple pie filling on his black swim trunks.
     
“Oh, Brighton,” Marion said, shaking her head, “Look what you’ve done to your
     
father’s shorts.” Marion was spotlessly clean. There wasn’t a morsel of apple pie filling
     
on her hands and she was the one making the pie.
     
Dexter looked down at his shorts. “I’m fine, Marion. They were going into the
     
hamper anyway.”
     
Brighton stepped back with a guilty expression on her face, and then a voice from
     
the other side of the kitchen said, “I think it looks delightful. I wish I could taste food,
     
because I’d lick the mess off your pants.” Captain Lang. He was standing beside Marion, with his hands in the pockets of
     
his dark sea captain’s pants.
     
Dexter looked up at him and said, “You’d better be good. There’s a child in the
     
room.” But after he spoke, his mouth fell and his eyes opened wide. He knew Marion and
     
Brighton couldn’t see or hear Captain Lang. They had no idea to whom he was talking.
     
Marion stopped mixing the apple pie filling. She gave Dexter a blank look and
     
said, “What did you say, Mr. Moore?”
     
Captain Lang was standing directly behind Marion now. His hands were above
     
her head and he was waving them back and forth. Marion had no idea he was there.
     
Dexter cleared his throat fast and said, “That pie had better be good, because I’m
     
starved today for some reason.”
     
Marion lifted a large wooden spoon and waved it in his direction. “My pies are
     
always good, Mr. Moore. I’ll give you an extra-large slice after dinner tonight.”
     
Captain Lang raised an eyebrow and said, “I’ll give you something extra large,
     
too Dexter.”
     
“C’mon now,” Dexter said. “This is just wrong.”
     
“Oh, stop worrying,” Lang said. “They can’t hear a word I’m saying.”
     
Marion looked up from the bowl and lowered her eyebrows. “What is wrong, Mr.
     
Moore? I don’t understand.” Then she put down the spoon and asked, “Are you feeling
     
all right?”
     
“I’m sorry, Marion,” Dexter said. “I was just thinking aloud.” Then he squatted
     
down so he could look Brighton in the eye. When they were face to face, he smiled and
     
said, “I made a new friend today. His name is Elliot and he owns