We’d been discussing the merits of the bulimic diet when I blurted, “Wouldn’t it be fun to hold a séance and see what we can call up?” Ruthie’s eyes shimmered in the candlelit dimness. “I’m not so sure about that. Invoking spirits can be sketchy.” “It sounds like fun to me,” Lisa scoffed. “I haven’t done a séance since I was a kid. But are three people enough?” “We need someone with psychic powers,” Ruthie said. “A medium, somebody who goes between the worlds of the living and of the dead.” I explained that I had invited Kadee Harper, the closest I could come to a psychic, but already an hour into our gathering, it looked as if she wasn’t coming. None of us even considered any of the husbands, all of whom were in the game room playing poker. Old lady Crumble on the first floor was also rejected—too addled. “Since a medium is suppose to go into a trance, why not the manny?” Ruthie asked. “The perfect channel,” Lisa agreed. “You can’t get much more trancelike than a manny.”
