CHAPTER TWO
Akira had decided that Florida was creepy. She was beginning to doubt her decision to move here. Again. For only the hundredth time.
She hadn’t even gotten out of the car at the first house Meredith, the realtor, had shown her, despite Meredith’s protesting, “Oh, but it’s a darling little house. Recently remodeled, fully updated inside, the latest appliances, and the rent is very reasonable.”
Akira had just sighed and said, “It’s not right for me.” The cranky old woman ghost on the front porch had waved her fist at them as they drove away, although Akira was sure that the faint “good riddance” she heard was her imagination.
At the second house, Akira stopped at the bedroom door and swallowed hard. It was unfurnished, the walls freshly-painted a light off-white. Meredith strode in, talking about the adjoining bathroom as if the translucent weeping girl on the floor, holding a baby, and rocking back and forth, was invisible. Which, of course, she was—to the realtor. Suicide? Akira thought dispassionately. Maybe natural causes for the baby, and then mom’s grief drove her to kill herself? Or perhaps a post-partum depression murder-suicide?
“Aren’t you going to come look? It’s really quite lovely.” Meredith had a chirpy voice. Akira was beginning to dislike it.
“No, thank you,” Akira said calmly. “I don’t think it’s right for me.” Turning, she marched out of the house and straight to the car. By the time Meredith caught up, she was already seated and buckled in the passenger-side seat, staring straight ahead.
“You’re going to fit right in around here,” Meredith said, as she slid the key into the ignition and pulled away from the curb. Akira shot her a curious look. Now what did that mean?
Meredith smiled at her, a little wryly. “Now this next house is big for you, but it’s in your price range, and Dr. Latimer suggested that you might be interested in it.”
“Dr. Latimer? Is that Zane Latimer?”
“No, no, it was Max Latimer. He was the one who set up your appointment.”
Akira frowned. She’d tried to research the company from California, but it was almost invisible. Oh, it had a web site, a completely unrevealing web site. The copywriter who wrote the text had been a master of saying nothing in many, many words. Apart from that, the name was too generic. The phrase “general directions” had 14 million hits on Google, most of them maps. Akira had deduced that the company was privately owned, but that was about as far as she’d gotten.
“I don’t believe I met him,” she told Meredith.
“No?” Meredith’s voice was casual. She tucked a strand of long red hair behind one ear as she ostentatiously paid attention to traffic, of which there was none.
“Is there something I ought to know about him?” Akira asked, exasperated. She was getting a bit tired of the mystery. Over the course of the past month, she’d given notice at the college, rented out her house, packed up her belongings, putting some in storage and arranging for the rest to be shipped to Florida, said good-bye to everyone and everything she knew, and flown to Orlando.
This time there was no private plane to deliver her almost straight to General Directions, so she’d made the long, slow, winding drive north in a rental car. She’d gotten to Tassamara expecting to check into a hotel and start work immediately. Instead, Grace told her to take her time getting settled and introduced her to Meredith, a pretty mid-30s redhead who would “show her everything important.” As far as Akira could tell, though, there was nothing important in Tassamara. She wasn’t even sure she’d seen the town yet. It seemed to be a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it spot on the map.
“Most of the people in Tassamara work for him either directly or indirectly,” Meredith finally said. “GD is the only company in town.”
“Which means what? He runs the place like an old-time mining town? What he says goes?”
“Oh, no, no,” Meredith chuckled. “You’ll like him, I’m sure. Everyone does. He’s just . . . well, you’ll see.” She pulled to the side of the road and parked.
Akira didn’t move to get out. “He’s just what? Pick a word, any word. I’ve moved here all the way from California, I don’t know anybody, and if I’ve made a huge mistake, then the sooner I figure it out, the better.” She knew she was being too blunt, but she couldn’t help herself.
Taking a job so far away from home had been an act of denying imagination: she’d convinced herself to do it by focusing on the lab and the work. She hadn’t tried to picture what her life would be like, where she’d live or buy her groceries or go for walks, who her friends would be or what she’d do on weekends. She had very deliberately not thought about the challenges of navigating unfamiliar places, strange houses, unknown landscapes. If she had thought about all those things . . . well, she would have been working at the 7-11 down the street from her house in California and going hungry to pay the bills rather than braving all of this uncertainty.
It wasn’t that she was a coward, she assured herself. But her challenges were different than those of most other people, and she had to be careful in a way that most people wouldn’t understand. Okay, and maybe she was a little bit of a coward.
Meredith smiled at her. “Eccentric. Dr. Latimer is eccentric. But really, I think you’re going to fit right in in Tassamara. It’s a quirky little town.” She gestured at the house behind Akira. “That’s the place. You should take a look.”
Quirky? Akira didn’t feel better. But she turned and looked. The house was two stories, white frame, with a wraparound porch and a turret. She glanced back at Meredith in surprise. Was she kidding? “There’s only me, you know. I’m not bringing a family.”
Meredith was already getting out of the car. “Come take a look. Like I said, it’s a little big, but Dr. Latimer thought you might like it.”
Akira followed her up the short walkway. The house was close to the street, and she looked around curiously at the neighboring houses. “Are we near the town?”
“Yes, Millard Street is the main drag, and it’s about two blocks that way. An easy walk, if you don’t like to drive.”
Akira didn’t mind driving, although being able to walk for small errands would be pleasant. But the mention of driving reminded her of the black Taurus and Dillon. She’d asked Grace if she could lease the car that she’d driven the first day, with no idea what she’d answer when Grace asked why. After all, it was just a generic car, several years old, nothing special about it if you couldn’t see the ghost boy inhabiting the back seat, and no reason to want that car rather than some nice new model.
But Grace hadn’t asked why. She’d paused and her face had stilled, then she’d turned away and busied herself with some files, before turning back, smiling cheerfully, and saying, “I think that can be arranged. I’ll have it waiting at the airport.”
Akira still wasn’t sure whether she’d seen something on Grace’s face—sadness? worry?—or whether it had been her imagination. But she’d been too relieved that Grace hadn’t asked her any hard questions to try to decipher Grace’s response.
Meredith unlocked the door, gave a hard push, and shoved it open. “Door’s a little sticky, we might need to get someone out to take care of that.” She stepped into the house and Akira followed, feeling wary.
The first two rooms were empty and echoing. Hardwood floors were worn and battered, showing signs of hard use, and the fireplace in the front room was blackened with years of smoke. But the light was nice and the ceilings were high, with overhead fans. A narrow staircase led upstairs to a hallway that extended in both directions. Another hallway led to the back of the house.
Meredith chatted about paint colors and furniture, but Akira wasn’t really listening. She turned slowly, looking around. The house had a feeling. But not a bad feeling. It should have felt abandoned, alone, the way houses that were uninhabited always did. But this house, despite its emptiness, felt lively. Akira’s wariness increased. Was this town simply infested with ghosts?
She followed Meredi
th down the hallway, passing a small bathroom, and into the kitchen.
“Rose! We have visitors.” An old man was folding his newspaper and standing up as Akira walked into the room. She glanced quickly at Meredith. No reaction. Okay, so he was a ghost. Akira kept her eyes off him, not wanting him to realize she could see him, but she tried to steal looks from the corner of her eye, as she murmured something in response to Meredith’s running commentary.
He looked like a kindly grandpa. Not her kindly grandpa—she’d never met any of her grandparents—but like a television version of a kindly grandpa, with white hair and laugh lines and a little more belly than had probably been good for him. He was wearing what she thought of as golf clothes: a collared, short-sleeved shirt, with a sweater vest, and plain light-colored pants.
“Oh, yay!” A whirlwind came barreling through a doorway that Akira hadn’t noticed and she had to concentrate hard on Meredith’s face to keep from staring openly. The young woman clapped her hands, and twirled in the center of the room, her peach skirts flaring around her. “Maybe she’ll get cable. Maybe she’ll love that music show. Quick, what can we do to keep her? I know, let’s make it smell like chocolate-chip cookies.”
The old man chuckled. “Now there’s a nice idea. You’ll have to work on that. It’d be right pleasant if you could make that happen.”
“Oh, I do hope she stays. Should we call the boys in?” Rose danced her way to the back door, within Akira’s line of sight, and pressed against it, peering out the window. Tall, willowy, with long blond curls, she was dressed in the full skirts and sleeveless top of the 1950s.
“Now, Rose, you know it’s been ages since they’ve come inside. You leave them be. They’re fine.”
Rose turned and Akira hastily directed her attention to Meredith. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”
Meredith was watching her, a curious look on her face. “Some people think this house is haunted.” She made the statement calmly, almost casually, without even a hint of thrill in her voice.
“Noooo!” Rose wailed. “Don’t do that. You’ll scare her off.”
“Oh, dear, that’s bad,” the old man murmured. “That must be why we’ve been empty for so long.”
“It was that last lady, the one who lit that smelly stuff, and tried to talk to us. But she couldn’t hear a thing.” Rose actually stamped her foot.
“They say the ghosts are friendly, though.” Meredith was smiling, but her look was too intent, too expectant.
“We are, we are friendly,” Rose burst out. “We like people. Oh, please live here. I miss television. I miss music. It’s just too quiet without people.”
“And do you believe in friendly ghosts?” Akira tried to infuse her tone with skepticism.
“In Tassamara, believing in six impossible things before breakfast is taken for granted. But let’s move on. As you can see, the kitchen is nice, nothing special, but a good layout. The appliances all stay, including the refrigerator, and there’s a washer and dryer over here in what used to be the pantry.” Meredith opened the back door and stepped outside. “The back yard is fully enclosed and spacious for this area of town. There’s a small pool and maintenance is included in the rent.”
Akira followed her, but she was still puzzling over Meredith’s first words. What impossible things? But as she looked out into the backyard, her thoughts derailed.
It was a pocket paradise. Flowering plants and lush bushes created a scenic border to a small yard where an oval pool, surrounded by brick pavers, played center stage. Two ghost boys ran and played as if the pool didn’t exist.
They were the kind of ghosts that Akira thought of as faders. Unlike the ghosts in the kitchen, the boys were translucent to her, their colors dimmed and pale. But she could hear their laughter, and she couldn’t help but smile in response.
“This is beautiful.”
“Two citrus trees. You’ll love the smell of the orange blossoms in another few weeks and the fruit would be yours, of course. Let me show you the upstairs.” Meredith had reverted to a business-like realtor mode, and as Akira followed her back into the house and up the back staircase, she wondered what the realtor was thinking.
Upstairs, Meredith paused at the first door. “Four bedrooms, so as I said, it’s big but you’ll be able to pick which one you like and perhaps use another as an office. And lots of storage, of course. The rent is very reasonable, despite the size.”
“That one’s mine.” Akira didn’t react to the sound of Rose’s voice behind her, just pasted a smile on her face for Meredith’s benefit. “But you can share it, if you like. I wouldn’t mind having a roommate. Oh, and if you like television at night, that would be so terrific. I promise I wouldn’t talk much.”
Akira glanced in the room. It was bright and big, but she kept walking. The next room was smaller and must have once been a child’s room. She skipped that, too.
“Henry mostly stays downstairs, so you don’t have to worry about him.” Rose’s tone was a little plaintive, as Akira opened the door to the turret room and stepped inside.
She crossed to the window and looked out, more to hide her face from the seemingly perceptive Meredith while she thought than to admire the view.
As a matter of principle, Akira avoided ghosts. She knew from painful experience that her interactions with them were hazardous. But these ghosts weren’t the dangerous kind: Rose had said they were friendly, but Akira hadn’t needed her words. She could recognize a dangerous spirit from a distance, sometimes even from just a vibration in the air.
Of course, any ghost could become dangerous. And if her father knew she was even considering the idea of living with ghosts . . . but she didn’t need to worry about his reaction, not anymore.
And then there was Dillon. Talking to him had been an impulse. When he sighed and mentioned the parking lot, she’d guessed he was tied to the car. That meant safety for her: he wouldn’t be able to follow her home. He wouldn’t be showing up in her bedroom or her shower or her classroom, like the ghost she’d spoken with back when she was a teenager who’d proceeded to make her life a living hell for months out of his own loneliness and misery.
She’d taken the risk, thinking it was for an afternoon, but she’d liked him. They’d fallen into conversation as easily as if they were old friends, talking about astronomy and science and movies and Harry Potter. Like most ghosts, he seemed desperately lonely but he was also curious and interested in the world. And he’d been willing to accept that she didn’t have any answers for him.
Now she’d taken an even bigger risk by leasing the car. But bringing him here, to this house, might be good for him. He’d have at least two other ghosts to talk to, maybe more if the faders in the backyard weren’t too far gone. It wouldn’t be like life, of course, and every time she drove to work he’d have to come with her, but he’d have company.
Decision made, she turned back to Meredith. “I’ll take it.”
“You—? Okay. I’ll arrange for the paperwork.” Meredith looked a little surprised, although pleased, but her reaction was nothing compared to that of Rose who screamed with joy, and rushed away, yelling, “Henry, Henry, she’s moving in.”
“My office is on Millard. Why don’t we go down there and you can take a look at the town while I get the lease together?”
“That sounds good.” Akira looked around the turret room and smiled. Okay, her reasoning was logical. Scientifically sound. But she could also admit to herself that living in a turret would be a childhood dream come true.
On Millard Street, Akira strolled while Meredith drew up the paperwork, finally returning and sitting on a bench outside the realtor’s office. The main street had a block with the usual shops: a gas station, with convenience store attached, a grocery store with a row of parking out front, even a small hardware store. A restaurant that hovered somewhere between being a café and a diner sat next to a small bookstore, an antique shop, and a store that looked as if it sold nothing but c
rystals.
She hadn’t kept walking because the shops seemed to end and the buildings mostly became houses or small office fronts, lawyers and accountants, and perhaps the occasional doctor or dentist. It all seemed very typical. But there was something off about it. It was like a tourist town, but smaller, dustier, not as brightly colored or as artificially friendly. How did the town survive?
“My, what a beautiful aura you have, my dear.” Akira automatically glanced in the direction of the voice, but then looked away, hoping the ghost wouldn’t think anything of her response. A small woman—smaller even than Akira herself—dressed in a flowered muumuu had stopped and was staring at Akira. “It’s lovely. Why, that blue is almost iridescent. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen such a shade before. Do you have an unusual gift, child?”
“Hello, Mrs. Swanson.” Meredith had opened the door to the realtor’s office and Akira stood, surprised. So the little woman wasn’t a ghost?
“Hello, Meredith, dear. How’s your mother doing? I’ve been meaning to stop by.”
“Oh, she’d be delighted to see you. She’s been a little better lately, but she always likes to hear what’s going on in town.”
“Have you noticed your friend’s aura? It’s really quite remarkable.” The little woman reached out as if to stroke Akira, but instead patted the air near her arm. Akira shifted, uncomfortable, but not wanting to be too obvious about her retreat. She threw a desperate look at Meredith but the realtor was smiling.
“What does it tell you?”
“Why, I’m not even sure. I was just asking her if she had a gift. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen an aura like this before.”
“This is Akira Malone. Akira, Mrs. Swanson, one of the long-time residents of Tassamara. She owns a small business a few blocks down. Akira’s a new scientist with GD, Mrs. Swanson. I’ve just been showing her houses, and she’s rented the old Harris place.”
“A scientist? Well, that just seems wrong. But it’s a pleasure to meet you, child.” The woman reached out and took Akira’s hand in both of her own, clasping it in an almost handshake, while gazing at the air around Akira’s head.
“I, um, likewise, I’m sure,” Akira mumbled, trying to retrieve her hand and succeeding.
“Akira needs to come in and sign her lease now, Mrs. Swanson, so we’ll see you later.” Meredith waved and Akira nodded a good-bye as she entered the realtor’s office.
“Is she—was that—what does she do?” Akira asked. Was there a polite way to find out if Mrs. Swanson always accosted strangers on the street?
Meredith walked around to the other side of her desk and took her seat. “She’s an aura reader, of course.”
“A what?”
“She reads auras.” Meredith said the words matter-of-factly.
Akira looked out the window at the departing back of the tiny woman and then at Meredith. “Are you serious?” Akira asked, as she sat in the chair in front of Meredith’s desk.
Meredith looked surprised. “Of course. We’re no Cassadaga, but Tassamara is a town of psychics. That does make us a bit unusual.”
“A town of what?”
“Psychics. Cassadaga, of course, is famous for their spiritualists. We’re much more private here.” She leaned forward, lowering her voice, and added, as if confidentially, “I think we have more of the truly gifted here, too, but I shouldn’t really judge.”
Akira’s face felt frozen. Meredith pushed the lease across the desk to Akira and dropped the keys on top of it, smiling.
For a moment, Akira paused. What had she gotten herself into? But, biting her lip, she picked up a pen and signed the lease, then scooped up the keys.
This town might be crazy.
But then, she might be crazy, too.