7
Belshegar made his deep voice as much of a murmur as he could manage. “I fear we’ve upset your friend.”
Elena had been thinking pretty much the same thing, but she only replied, “Oh, I don’t know. I think Alessandro was just startled to see you. And he was right about dinner. I mean, I’ve never made molé, but I do know it’s really complicated. He probably knew he needed to get started soon if we were going to eat at a decent hour.”
“Shouldn’t you be cooking him dinner?” Victoria inquired, looking scandalized.
“No,” Elena responded. “It’s the twenty-first century, you know. We don’t have to be bound by old-fashioned gender roles.”
That remark only made the ghost’s big blue eyes flare open even wider, but, ever helpful, Belshegar stepped in.
“Elena really isn’t a very good cook,” he
