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reading skills, don’t you think?”
    “I guess.”
    “Do you know why they call this Bradley Airport?”Aunt Ginny was beaming at Zack the way a good teacher does, the kind who wants you to learn everything she already knows.
    “No, ma’am.”
    “Well, that’s all right. Very few people in Connecticut do. You see, the airfield was named after a World War II fighter pilot named Eugene Bradley, a young man from Antlers, Oklahoma, who, during a training exercise, crashed his plane in the woods just north of here.”
    “Really?”
    “Oh, yes. Lieutenant Bradley was the first fatality at what, in 1941, was a brand-new army air base.”
    “Neat. So, how come you know all this stuff?”
    “Don’t forget, dear: Hannah, Sophie, and I grew up in North Chester with your grandpa Jim.”
    “Right.”
    Now Aunt Ginny leaned in closer and covered her mouth so she and Zack could share a secret.
    “I also think the plane crash is why Lieutenant Bradley is forever pacing around that baggage carousel. He must be looking for his lost flight bag.”
    Zack’s eyes widened.
    Aunt Ginny winked.
    She’d seen the pilot with the seat strapped to his seat, too!

“Oh, my!” gushed Aunt Sophie. “This food tastes delicious! Mmm!”
    The whole family, all six Jenningses, was seated around the big dining room table, which Judy had decorated with gourds, a couple of carved pumpkins, and dried leaves to give it a real Halloween feel.
    She of course hadn’t spent nearly as much time cooking as she had decorating, because she was less likely to set off the smoke detector decorating. Judy had picked up dinner at the closest chain restaurant where they brought your food to the parking lot.
    “I have now read all of your Curiosity Cat books, Judy,” said Aunt Ginny. “They’re quite good. I would imagine it’s not easy telling an amusing, entertaining, and educational tale with so few words.”
    “That’s right,” said Zack’s dad. “That’s why Judy’s won so many awards.”
    “Well, this garlic herb chicken deserves an award, too,” said Ginny. “It’s scrumptious. Absolutely scrumptious.”
    “Mmm-hmmm,” added Aunt Sophie, her mouth full of mashed potatoes. “Scrumdillyicious.”
    “Thank you,” said Judy. “It’s our neighbor Mrs. Applebee’s secret recipe.”
    “And where does this Applebee family live?” asked Hannah, who, Zack had quickly discovered, didn’t have much of a sense of humor. (Hannah hadn’t liked it much when Aunt Ginny and Zack swapped gross-out jokes on the ride home from the airport.)
    “So,” said Zack’s dad, trying to change the subject, “are your rooms okay, ladies?”
    “Fine,” said Sophie, tearing open a roll.
    “They’ll do,” said Hannah.
    “The pillows could be fluffier, I suppose,” said Sophie, slathering a gob of butter on her roll.
    “And, of course, I’m allergic to feathers,” added Hannah.
    “Well, my room is marvelous!” said Ginny.
    “You got my bedroom,” said Zack.
    “Really? Where are you sleeping?”
    “Downstairs. With Zipper.”
    Zipper was out in the backyard, probably hunkered down inside his doghouse, strategizing the best way to do battle with the newly arrived cats, all of which came equipped with the “claws of fury” feature.
    “We may need to do some shopping,” pronounced Aunt Hannah. “After all, tomorrow is Halloween.”
    “We already have candy to hand out,” said Judy. “Miniature Butterfingers and Baby Ruths.”
    “And where do you store those?” asked Aunt Sophie, fluttering her eyelids again.
    “Sophia?” scolded Hannah.
    “Sorry.”
    “We need to purchase certain items at the Hedge Pig Emporium to aid Zachary with his paranormal proclivities.”
    Zack figured “paranormal proclivities” meant he could see ghosts.
    “I trust the Hedge Pig is still open, George?”
    “Yes, Aunt Hannah,” said Zack’s dad. “I think so. I haven’t thought about that old place in ages.”
    “Good. That is how it should