For the ghosts of Woodstone Manor, Tuesdays and Thursdays had become what they thought of as their 'family together' time with Jay and Sam. The livings would make popcorn or open packets of delectable treats with peculiar names such as Fun-Yuns and Hot Cheetos while Jay would pour them each a glass of wine, something that Hetty would always sniff about with haughty judgment.

'Not entirely certain a Bordeaux should be paired with the hor d'oeuvres of the working class,' was one particularly memorable critique; meanwhile Thorfinn frequently questioned why they weren't drinking beer when cheering on the 'small-man wrestlers' that Trevor loved watching whenever Jay turned on ESPN. Once again, Hetty's sensibilities, along with Alberta's and Pete's too, were assaulted by the 'brazen pugilistic show of flesh' which had her repeatedly requesting something with more dignity despite Isaac's protests about assimilating their tastes into the twenty-first century.

'Perhaps we can get them to watch that thing with the Royal Family again, you know, from before they all went round the bend,' the singer suggested, 'usually that's too many white folks for my taste but the first two series have that handsome blondie playing the Duke.'

'He looks a lot like this doctor I saw on TV when the old lady lived here,' Flower commented, wiggling her toes from her perch on the arm of the sofa by the tv. 'And a lot like the clerk in that bank I robbed one time. Did I ever tell you guys that story?'

The group of ghosts collectively groaned good-naturedly, with Pete cheerfully pointing out that at least it was only the fourth time that week they'd heard her mention the bank robbery story, as opposed to the previous week being a near record-setting fifty-eight. The irritation of Pete's record keeping drew even more groans as they shuffled around the room to find their spots for Thursday night's group viewing of Chopping Block, one of the few shows everyone could agree on. Sassapis, Trevor and Isaac all loved the chirpy commentary from the judging panel, Thorfinn and Hetty were keen on the cutthroat competition, though the former was initially disappointed that there was only metaphorical chopping of judges and not actual separation of chefs from their limbs. Flower considered it pure magic the way the chefs made dishes out of such random items and Alberta was a fan of seeing historically marginalized individuals succeed in not just following their passions but being rewarded with money, exposure and professional connections.

When the ghosts had gathered but the Livings had not, the group looked around at each other slightly confused. One of them, usually Jay who had begged off kitchen duty owing that cooks didn't clean, was always there shortly before the eight-pm start time to set the little box that would record the show for later viewing - the TV Library, Pete would call it while Trevor called it TiVo Two-Point-Oh. But they'd ordered Chinese food tonight so that meant no dishes to wash, yet neither Sam nor Jay were to be found, which had the group scowling in confusion.

'Where could they have gone? Land-Ship still here,' Thorfinn said, pointing out the window.

'Perhaps they're inspecting one of the new rooms and blessing it?' Isaac said with a suggestive wink. 'It is a mansion after all, there are plenty of places the young happy couple have yet to use for fornication.'

'I made it to fourteen,' Trevor said with a proud fist-pump, which earned a snort from Hetty.

'My husband would have called that a slow Sunday, knowing his fondness for anything with a female form and breath in her lungs.'

'And that's not counting the woods, there's this place out by the wild cherry trees that when the sunlight hits after the rain…' Sassapis trailed off when all eyes turned towards him. He cleared his throat, and gestured at the black blank screen. 'The point is we want our tv fun time and they're screwing us out of knowing who gets the fourth slot in the Redemption Tournament with their libidos!'

There was a short burst of a female scream from upstairs and Alberta wriggled her fingers in concern. 'That sounds like the time Trevor tried that thing with one of the pizza delivery girls that got him slapped square into next week.'

'Hey!' The Wall Street bro sulked indignantly. 'That was a very hot move in my time, everyone on my office floor at work seemed to be doing it.'

'Quiet, you filthy-minded ruffians, there is a squabble a-foot,' Hetty hissed as the sound of foot-steps pounded on the stairs with raised voices volleying back and forth; the ghosts crowded by the door of the parlour to watch Sam hustling after Jay, each one frustrated in their own way.

'You could have told me straight, Sam, and not gone behind my back like I'm a child.'

'I know, I know, and I'm sorry, and I'm here to help-'

'No, you've done enough helping to last until at least Valentine's Day.'

'It's Thursday now, the festival opens on Saturday morning and runs for three days, we can get everything done if we just work really hard and-'

'Okay, stop.' Jay halted at the foot of the stairs, his wife's perky earnestness grating his nerves like a rusted potato peeler. 'Last I checked we are doing the B&B thing, you and me, which means we check in with each other when doing stuff like this, not you and the Ghost Gang, especially when one of us is the primary talent behind said stuff!'

'What's going on, Sam?' Sassapis inquired, Alberta and Pete peeking around him.

'I took your advice and signed us up to run a booth at the Fall Harvest Festival to sell samples of what we'll be offering on the B&B menu, maybe help us get some extra cash to get the place going for the wedding now that we've gotten the approval from Liz and Kenny's planner,' Sam explained, which seemed to set her husband off further.

'Yes, I know,' Jay spluttered, then cut himself off when he realized what Sam was doing and turned around. He waved his arms like he was trying to startle a pack of seagulls feasting on fallen boardwalk hot-dogs and French fries. 'Ghosts, out! This ain't your disco! This is between me and Tinkerbell over here who thinks that the B&B snacks will magically appear courtesy of the breakfast elves.'

'I don't think you're an elf,' Sam said with a defensive pout.

'Damn straight, I'm not an elf, I'm a chef and you're just the writer so why don't you leave the hard work to me?'

Jay's ire was met with a collective shocked gasp of indignation from the ghosts that only they and Sam could hear.

'How dare you speak of your wife like that, sir!' Hetty gasped. 'You don't have to take that tripe from your spouse, Samantha, you tell him where he can go and what he can do with himself upon arrival!'

'I can poke him real good,' Trevor offered, rolling up his sleeves just as Thorfinn reached for his shield.

'This can double as flying disc of death, Samantha. Say the word and Small Man will be Very Small Man in no time.'

'Thanks guys, he's just annoyed I didn't tell him even though I'm in charge of getting our name and brand known to the public and taking advantage of opportunities like this is a great chance to get the word out to the locals. You know,' Sam explained with sarcasm dripping like poisoned honey from every word, 'the easy stuff the writer does.'

'I'm sorry, that was a stupid thing to say, but Sam, if you wanna promote an event with a chef, maybe check in with the chef,' Jay started, his voice straining to stay as calm as possible, then turned towards the parlour doors when he saw Sam's gaze drift away and the final fragments of his patience were shattered. 'Seriously, guys, can we have just like five minutes without an audience? It'd be really nice to fight with my wife and tell her how much she screwed this up without the Peanut Gallery joining in.'

'Hey, don't talk to them like that, this is not their fault.' Sam gestured vaguely to her left with a single finger. 'They're just as invested in our well-being and success as we are.'

'Really, well that's all well and good for them, but they cannot make-' Jay made a show of looking at Sam's iPad '-a menu of the sweet and savoury tastes of the Hudson River Valley that will be the signature style of Woodstone Manor in less than four days.'

'Not our fault we can't pick up knives and chop stuff to help,' Pete retorted with as much mustard in his tone as he could manage.

'Probably for the best given your current and permanent neckwear,' Sassapis quipped, 'and if anyone should be helping plan a taste of Hudson River Valley flavours, it's yours truly.'

'What makes you such an expert?' Trevor asked. 'Me and my Lehman Bros would come up here all the time and party, I think I know the best places to get the good eats around here.'

'I think Sassapis means he knows the traditional ingredients and whatnot better than you,' Sam interjected, then cursed herself as Jay's pupils nearly turned into flames.

'Sam, seriously? Could you give even a fraction of your attention to helping me solve the problem you created?' he snapped, but before she could answer Jay spun away, held up his hands and waved them once more in his bird-shooing motion. 'You know what, since you're such an expert, there, Sassy-Fras? You and Sam do it yourselves.'

With that, Jay stormed to the front door and flung it open; his dramatic exit was marred by the fact that trying to slam a solid oak door was more like watching a snail cross a river molasses. He let out a short frustrated screech and walked down the pathway towards the hiking trail Hetty and Thor used for their daily jaunts about the property. Briefly he thought about how he hadn't brought anything with him like a flashlight or a jacket, but it was a nice clear night with a full moon just a day away and if he got lost he'd eventually make his way back.

Sam watched him go, knowing that her man needed some space to let the brain-fire cool off; she knew it was a screw-up to not tell him first, not even to run it by him - in her defense she didn't think that after the disastrous dinner with the historical society people that they'd get to sell so much as a coffee bean let alone be trusted with an entire booth at the Harvest Festival. Granted, they were a last minute replacement booth for someone whose schedule had changed and were no longer able to attend so they were being waived the entry fees but even still.

Sitting down on the landing of the wide staircase, Sam sighed and rubbed her forehead unsurprised when tears of shame stung the corners of her eyes. She hated when she fought with Jay like this, not because she denied her mistake but over the fact that she'd hurt him so carelessly. She could do it, she could fix it - so what if she had a perky can-do attitude? That was what had made her good at her job in the city and how they'd been able to make the upgrades necessary so far on the mansion without going completely broke or insane.

She heard the swish of velvet and felt a cooling sensation on her shoulder yet warmth within and knew it was Alberta giving her a ghostly hug.

'Child, don't fret, we've seen you do your magic plenty in worse situations since you got here,' she reassured her living friend.

'How about that time when you got that nice lady to do an article about me for the paper?' Flower reminded her, which made Sam chuckle.

'That was me who wrote that, Flower.'

'Oh…cool! Hey, wanna do another one?'

'Maybe we should focus on this first project.'

'Oh…cool!' Flower said again and was distracted by a wispy trail of colourful light only she could see.

'Samantha, men are no different from little boys, they will always have temper tantrums when they don't get their way,' Alberta told her; Hetty using her newfound sense of liberation nodded in agreement.

'Indeed, when one of the maids broke my husband's favourite ivory-handled walking stick, he was more hurt by the notion that she'd dared touch his things at all than the fact it was broken. Apparently Elias thought elves magically came through the house at night to do the dirty work while he did his own dirty work with the pretty house staff.'

'Hey, didn't you say that you were a Goldblum?' Trevor offered, 'I mean, everyone thinks he is a huge nerdy dork, at least in movie-world, but us out here know he's a total bad-ass saving the world from aliens! Remember how he figured out the computer virus thing?'

'Goldblum? Sounds Semetic,' Hetty sniffed. 'Or worse, possibly Irish.'

'How is Irish worse than the possibility of catching a virus from a machine?' Sassapis inquired with a note of concern in his voice. 'Seriously, we watch a lot of tv, is that why we're stuck here? Are we being baked like one of Jay's delicious loaves of chocolate babka?'

'I am a Goldblum, Trevor, you're right.' That her ghostly friends remembered the conversation from months ago brightened her spirits, and she had a sudden thought. 'Pete? Where's Pete?'

'Present!' the friendly Pinecone Troop leader quipped, popping out from behind Thorfinn.

'Can you take me back to that pantry where we found your scouting manual? I think I have an idea.'

'Oh, Samantha, are you going to attempt to win back your husband's love with your cooking? Because that may only worsen your current predicament,' Isaac warned her gently, his voice rising to be heard as she darted off with Pete, 'even if we weren't friends yet, we all remember the pancake incident from your first morning here!'

The group muttered their wholehearted agreement, with the Viking concluding, 'Thorfinn thought smell would never go and I lived on boat with dead fish.'