Nelson looked around as if there were some other Nelson in the kitchen. When he saw there wasn’t, he said, “Me?”
Maybe sinking through the floor wasn’t such a bad idea. “Yes, you. You changed your clothes!”
Nelson looked down at himself. “Why shouldn’t I have? Pajamas are for nighttime. Do you not know that?”
“But—that’s—we’re dead.”
“Acceptance,” Mei said. “Cool.” She started furiously stirring the pots again, one after the other.
“And?” Nelson said. “Just because I’m dead doesn’t mean I don’t like to look my best.” He held up his shoes, wiggling his feet. “Do you like them? They’re Velcro, because laces are for suckers.”
No, Wallace didn’t like them. “How did you do that?”
“Oh!” Nelson said brightly. “Well, it’s the unexpected thing we were talking about last night after you sank through the floor.”
“After what?” Hugo asked, eyebrows rising on his forehead.
Wallace ignored him. “Can I do that?”
Nelson shrugged. “I don’t know. Can you?” He raised his cane and thumped it on the floor. And just like that, he was wearing a pinstriped suit, not unlike one Wallace had hanging in his own closet. He thumped the cane again, and he was wearing jeans and a heavy winter coat. He thumped the cane again, and was in a tuxedo, his top hat tilted jauntily on his head. The cane hit the floor one more time and he was in his original outfit, Velcro shoes and all.
Wallace gaped at him.
Nelson preened. “I’m very good at most things.”
“Grandad,” Hugo warned.
Nelson rolled his eyes. “Hush, you. Let me have my fun. Wallace, come here.”
Wallace went. He stopped in front of Nelson, who looked him up and down critically. “Uh-huh. Yes. Quite. I see. That’s … unfortunate.” He squinted at Wallace’s feet. “Flip-flops. Never had use for them myself. My toenails are too long.”
Wallace grimaced. “That doesn’t sound like something to be shared.”
Nelson shrugged. “We have no secrets here.”
“We should,” Hugo muttered, pulling a tray of scones out of one of the ovens. They were thick and fluffy, bits of chocolate oozing. Wallace might have noticed them more if he hadn’t been thoroughly distracted by the fact that he could change clothes at a whim.
“How does it work?” he asked.
Nelson scrunched up his face. “You have to want it hard enough.”
Wallace wanted it more than anything. Almost anything. “Done. What else?”
“That’s it.”
“Are you messing with me?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Nelson assured him. “Think about what you’d like to wear, how it feels against your skin, how it looks upon your frame. Close your eyes.”
Wallace did, feeling a little awkward. The last time Nelson told him to do something, he’d been jumping in circles. The song ended and another started, this one apparently with even more screams.
“Now, picture an outfit in your head. Start with something simple. A pair of slacks and a shirt. You don’t want to try layers, at least not yet. You’ll get there.”
“Okay,” Wallace whispered. “Slacks and a shirt. Slacks and a shirt. Got it.”
“Can you see yourself?”
He could. He stood in his apartment bedroom in front of the mirror hanging on the back of the door. His closet was open. In the streets below, horns honked, men and women in construction hats shouting and laughing. A busker played a cello on the street corner. “Yes. I can see it.”
“Now, make it happen.”
Wallace opened one eye balefully. “I think I’m going to need a little more than that.”
He yelped when he got a cane upside his shins. “You’re not focusing.”
He closed his eyes again and took a breath, letting it out slow. “Right. Focusing. Slacks and a button-up shirt. Slacks and a button-up shirt.”
The strangest thing happened.
He felt his skin tingling as if a low electric current began to run through him. It started at his toes and worked its way up his legs and into his chest. The hook—always there, and he was already getting used to it, much to his chagrin—twisted slightly.
“Oh my,” Nelson said as Mei started choking.
Wallace opened his eyes. “What? Did it work?”
“Um,” Nelson said. He cleared his throat. “I … think so? Do you often find yourself wearing that? No judgment, of course. What you do in your free time is your own business. I just don’t know if it’s appropriate for the tea shop.”
“What—” Wallace looked down.
He’d changed his clothes. The sweats and shirt and flip-flops were gone.
He made a strangled noise when he saw he now wore a striped bikini that left little to the imagination. And it wasn’t only bikini bottoms, no. He also had the top across his chest, the straps tied around his neck, the ends dangling down his back. His feet were bare, but that was the least of his problems. “What is this?!” he shrieked. “What have you done to me?!”
Nelson huffed. “That had nothing to do with me. It’s all you.” He squinted at Wallace. “Is this what you wore in your free time? Seems a little … tight. Again, no judgment.” He was lying, obviously. His voice carried quite a bit of judgment.
It was about this time Wallace lamented that humans had evolved with only two hands. He tried to cover his crotch with one hand while pressing the other futilely against his chest as if it would actually do anything.
Mei whistled lowly. “You pull that off better than I’d have thought. I’m actually a little jealous. You’ve got a cute butt.”
He whirled around, both hands now covering his rear. He glared at Mei. She smiled sweetly at him.
“Grandad,” Hugo said.
Nelson scowled. “It wasn’t me. I honestly wasn’t expecting it to work. It took me months to figure out how to change my clothes. How was I to know he’d be able to do it on his first try? He’s pretty good at this whole ghost thing.” He grimaced as he stared at Wallace. “Maybe a little too good.”
Wallace wondered what it said about his life （and death） that he’d ended up in a kitchen in a lopsided house in the middle of nowhere wearing nothing but a bikini.
“It’s all right,” Hugo said gently as Wallace looked around for something to cover himself up, only to remember he couldn’t actually touch anything. “It doesn’t always work the first time. You’ve just glitched a little.”
“Glitched,” Wallace said with a snarl. “It’s riding up my—how do I fix this?”
“I don’t know if you can,” Nelson said gravely. “You might be stuck like this for the rest of your time here. And beyond.”
Hugo sighed. “You won’t. Grandad is having you on. You should’ve seen the first time he managed to change his clothes. Ended up wearing a full Easter rabbit costume.”
“Even had a basket with little plastic eggs,” Nelson agreed. “Strange thing, that. The eggs were filled with cauliflower, which is, of course, disgusting.”