When Jay returned nearly two hours later from his walk to clear his head - something he had to admit was close to impossible in the city, as there was always someone or something causing a ruckus - he opened and closed the front door as quietly as he could, then sniffed the air. It smelled…homey and delicious, as though he'd walked in the door of his favourite Chelsea bakery when they'd just made the almond-cheese Danishes. For a moment he panicked that he'd left something in the oven, a tray-bake of brownies or his wife's treasured fruit and oatmeal bars and sprinted to the kitchen only to find a cake on a glass patisserie pedestal. A slightly lopsided, dark around the edges cake that appeared to have been somewhat glazed and sprinkled not with almonds but walnuts. Beside the pedestal was neatly lined up a fork and kitchen knife along with a note propped up on a book that looked to be about as old and decrepit as the house itself. Peeking out from the edges, however, was a sight that made the edges of Jay's bad mood begin to soften - his wife's trademark colour-coded sticky notes that she always used for work, bookmarking topics in her own little system. Still annoyed but beginning to mellow a fraction, Jay picked up the note and read.

Peace-offering? Love Sam-Sam

He flipped it over and saw the rest - blue for soups, green for appetizers, pink for cookies and cakes (this one came from page 242), yellow for breads, orange for desserts. As he cut himself a piece of cake, Jay took a seat and began to flip through what turned out to be a cookbook replete with recipes that would be perfect for the heritage menu, unaware that the ghost gang was there to watch his reaction and report back to Sam on the double.

'It would appear our Living Lady's gambit is paying off, he is intrigued,' Hetty decided.

'How can you tell, Small Man just sit there and make noises,' Thorfinn replied in confusion.

'That's how dudes think, we're so evolved we don't even need words,' Trevor said proudly.

'Like cavemen,' Sassapis replied, which got him a thumbs-up from Trevor.

'Exactly, see, Dances With Wolves gets it.'

'For the last time, those guys are Lakota, I'm Lenape.'

'So?'

'You get cranky if someone thinks you're a stockbroker.'

'How dare you!' Trevor hissed, hands going to his hips and making everyone groan as the motion revealed far too much of himself that served as a reminder that Trevor had not only died with no pants but no underwear either. 'I was a day trader!'

'So you're offended when someone gets it wrong?' Isaac mocked his tone. 'You think I don't know how irritating that is? I died a Captain and yet everyone still insisted on calling me Lieutenant.'

'Yeah, that's the exact same thing,' Sassapis deadpanned.

'Shut it, all of you, he's getting out The Scratch-Pad!' Alberta hissed, and they let out a chorus of 'oos' as though they were watching Fourth of July as they watched Jay go to the cupboard and get out a thick spiral-bound notebook where he brainstormed his menu ideas.

Jay flipped through the book - printed in eighteen-eighty-six according to the publisher's mark- and began skimming the various offerings and making lists; he had to admit, what was old could be new again. 'Lotsa trendy things in here or things in here that we could make trendy,' he decided, then frowned when he came across the section labelled Cuisine of the Local Indian Tribes.

'Slightly racist,' both Jay and Sassapis agreed, the latter adding on, 'but surprisingly those ingredients are pretty damn accurate.'

'Where are they going to get luxury ingredients like fresh venison and plums this time of year?' Isaac inquired. 'Jay has no hunting skills outside the game-box on the tv and even then it's mainly zombies and an overgrown turtle named Bowser.'

'The supermarket has them year round, if you can't go to the farmer's market and support small business instead of the corporate machine,' Flower said, then wandered off to contemplate the whole universe found in a corner cobweb.

When Jay finished writing, he leaned back to stretch, then stabbed his fork into the cake, gave it a whirl. He immediately spit it back out, scraping the utensil over his tongue to rid himself of the god-awful taste.

'Hey, Hetty, if you're in here,' he called out, going to scrape the remainder of the slice into the garbage, 'remember when you took me for a ride a little while back and you said that thing about the busty kitchen wench who tried to serve quail tartare to the Carnegies when they came to visit? Sam makes her look like Julia Child.'

He headed upstairs, unable to hear the tittering of his ghostly companions, to find his wife lying in bed with her back towards the door. She'd foregone the bedside table lamp in favour of dark mode to read on the iPad, and barely flinched when he slipped into bed beside her. He wrapped his arm around her middle and kissed her neck.

'Thanks for the peace offering.'

'Figured it was the least I could do. Was it any good?'

'Oh god, no, that thing is better off as a paperweight,' Jay reassured her, 'but only because you're a terrible baker. The gesture was really nice.'

'You're the best chef I know, babe,' Sam told him, turned over to return his embrace. 'I remembered seeing that cookbook when I found Pete's scout manual, thought there might be something useful in there.'

'I looked on page two-forty-two and the recipe is actually really good. In fact…'

He reached across to turn on the lamp and show her his menu idea. 'I think I found a few ideas that we could use for that fall-fair booth and keep on the menu as Woodstone Manor signature breakfast items. Easy for mass prep on a tight timeline, easy for transport and serving on site away from a full kitchen.'

'Yeah? Like what?'

'Let's see, there's a rocking creamy pumpkin and squash soup, some blueberry scones with peach glaze, the walnut honey doorstop-' this earned him a swat on the arm '-and a roasted turkey pot-pie.'

'Sass seemed really keen about the plum and maple snow-cones, that was something the Quebecois fur traders did at peace summits, like a cultural exchange,' Sam added, and Jay made a note.

'Snow cones in November might not be such a hot seller,' Jay replied, chuckling at his own pun, 'but what about beaver tails with plum compote and a maple creme anglaise?'

'Beaver tails? That sounds really…um…rustic,' Sam replied as placidly as possible while trying to conceal her gag reflex working in full force. Her expression, however, did nothing to fool Jay, who immediately went into reassuring mode.

'Oh, no, not our little butt-slapper dam-building friends, it turns out it's this Quebecois dessert that's like a big flat donut and you can top it with all kinds of fun treats.'

'Even better.' Sam linked her fingers through with Jay's, patted their clasped hands. 'I'm sorry, babe, I should have mentioned it sooner, I just didn't think we'd get upgraded from standby to coach, you know?'

'Guess what annoys me more is that you talked to the Ghost gang about it but not me,' he admitted. 'It's frustrating sometimes that you've got this group of pals and I've just got you.'

'I know, babe, but sometimes it's not always all it's cracked up to be having this…power? Gift? I don't know. Sometimes, even for a day, I wish you could see what it's like to commune with the dead.' She wrinkled her nose. 'I may have even used my fortune cookie wish while you were out for a walk to gift my powers to you for a day to try it out.'

'We've been over this, fortune cookies don't work that way.'

'Yes they do, you pick one of the lucky numbers and use it to make a wish. That's how me and my mom always did it whenever we had Chinese when I was a kid.' Sam patted his hand. 'Can I have that one?'

'Sure, babe,' Jay agreed and gave her a sweet kiss. 'And on that cheerful note, we should get some sleep, it's going to be a busy week.'

'Oh no, not yet.' Sam's grin turned playful and she pulled Jay back in for a far steamier kiss. 'I still haven't finished apologizing yet.'

The following morning Jay woke with the alarm he'd set to be up by six-thirty at the latest to start getting various batters and doughs ready. Scones first, since he could pre-measure a lot there and give Sam the task of measuring batter onto trays; surely even someone as inept in the kitchen as his beloved could handle that, right?

After finishing his usual morning routine and giving Sam a quick kiss on the cheek while she continued to snore, Jay headed for the kitchen to grab a bowl of oatmeal and his coffee. Oatmeal was one of the old-man meals he secretly enjoyed no matter how much grief his city friends had given him; long days on his feet in the kitchen meant he needed a hearty morning start. He steamed his milk for his coffee and hot cereal, and was shaking oatmeal into the bowl when he heard a chipper male voice behind him.

'Oh snazzy, you're going for the brown sugar and maple oatmeal today, now there's a Friday treat if I ever saw one.'

Jay's hand wobbled, spilling oat flakes over the counter; he whipped around and came face to face with a man who could only be described as a grown-up Boy-Scout which was startling enough, let alone the archery arrow piercing his neck.

'Me, I'd pick the mixed berry but hey, every man's got to walk on his own wild side, am I right, Jay?'

'Who…who are y-'

But before the question was even out of his mouth, two more people appeared, one who'd be perfectly at home as a member of the chorus in Hamilton and the other who looked like she should be travelling on the Titanic.

'Oh, breakfast, how delightful!'

'This modern notion of doing for oneself is truly mind-boggling, why not just hire a contractor to make the food the same as you've done to make the repairs?'

'I…uh, who are all of you? How'd you get in, it-'

'This guy, what a joker!' The grown-up boy-scout jerked his thumb in Jay's direction, a classic get a load of him gesture. 'Hey, Sass! Trev! Go find Flower and Alberta, tell them coffee's ready!'

'Really, Peter, must you bellow like the sow callers in the market? We haven't even smelled our breakfast.'

'Wait a moment. Isaac, check the clock on the wall.'

'It would appear to be ten minutes of seven, which…is strange indeed, why-'

'Wait I know that voice.' Jay blinked at the snobby-looking lady in the deep turquoise dress. 'Hetty?'

'Oh for the love of all that is holy, of course it's me, why…' Hetty trailed off, then mirrored Jay's expression. 'Oh dear heavens above! This is momentous!'

'Why Small Man wake Thorfinn so early with coffee!'

Jay's eyes went owlish when an actual Viking appeared through the door to the kitchen. 'Trevor find Western Chopping Block we stay awake to watch while Small Man and Sam have two-person orgy! Thorfinn not sleep until three bells!'

'Thorfinn, just wait a moment, we have bigger paradigm-shifting fish to fry.' Hetty turned back to Jay. 'It would appear we now have two Livings who can see us!'

'Two Livings who can see us?' Pete repeated and joyfully slapped his hands on his hips. 'Well, I'll be! Imagine that! Jay, you lucky duck! Now we can play D&D together and not bother Sam!'

'Okay, you guys aren't just floaty half-people like

'Of course not, well, except for Crash but he's pretty self-explanatory,' Isaac said, coming forward. 'Captain Isaac Higgentoot, ready to service you. That is, uh, be at your service.'

'What's all the commotion, and why is there commotion so early?' Alberta and Sass wandered in, each pulling up short when Jay stared at them, frozen like a deer in the headlights.

'Wow, you guys really are a diverse crowd, huh?'

'Our own little motley crew,' Isaac agreed, then stepped towards the espresso machine where Jay's milk had begun to hiss and sputter. 'It would appear your dairy has begun to implode.'

Jay squawked, grabbed the metal pitcher from the steamer and poured it over his oatmeal, adding brown sugar and maple syrup before sitting down. He suddenly had new appreciation for zoo animals as the group stared at him while he shoveled in steaming oats, the burned tongue worth it as he tried to make sense of his world.

'So, do you guys watch me every morning?'

'Not every morning, sometimes it's you and Samantha together, and it does get lonely on the mornings you go for brunch,' Sassapis admitted, 'now can we talk menu planning for this Harvest Festival, because I have some really great ideas.'

'That can wait, how about we get some tunes up in here to start the morning right,' Alberta suggested. 'Nothing like a little Ella or Billie or yours truly to get off to a good start.'

'Alberta, stuff up your nonsense, clearly Jay needs this time to prepare for the work day ahead to be ready for the Festival, we should let him dine in tranquility because it will be bedlam once Lady Living sets foot in Jay's domain. It's a miracle she doesn't burn the house down daily.' Hetty waved at the others imperiously, then leaned in towards Jay. 'I don't suppose there is any chance of your cooking with Sour Patch Kids?'

Jay sent her a look. 'Not today, we are going one hundred percent authentic Hudson River Valley menu.'

'Great, so like I was saying I can be of some help there,' Sassapis tried again, then glanced up when a bleary-eyed Sam wandered in. 'Oh good, you're here, can you please back me up here Sam?'

But rather than receive her usual bubbly greeting, Sam bypassed everyone, going so far as to walk right through Hetty as she went straight to the coffee pot.

'Babe, do you really need me to be awake this early to help you?'

'Uh, yeah, that's the deal, remember? You're up with me to make sure we meet the deadline,' Jay reminded her, blinking in confusion at her nonchalant attitude towards the ghost gangs chipper morning greetings.

'Alright, well then I'm going to get dressed and for once it looks like I can do it quietly without Hetty calling my pants an abomination of womanhood. Can't seem to find her, or anyone, this morning.'

'She watches you get dressed?'

'I keep her company from the water closet,' Hetty explained to Jay, 'but why is she acting like I don't exist?'

'Sam, we're all here, and we can hear you!' Pete called out. 'Well, all except Trevor! We think he might have gotten distracted by Real Housewives again!'

'Oh…no…' Jay muttered as Sam walked out while the ghosts implored her for attention. 'Oh…no…oh no…no…'

'What is it, Jay?' Alberta inquired, suddenly concerned at the genuine distress on his face.

'I think we're power swapped!'