“I just saw fog turn itself into a man-shaped ghost thing. I thought he was going to hit me, but he was only interested in getting the phonebook. It was so strange, he kept changing. I watched him turn from fog into an opaque gray man. I think he even went solid, I mean, I know he did, because he hit the book from my hands. And then he turned into this faintly colored hologram looking thing before turning back into a puddle. What’s this all about? Does he have some sort of ghost disease that makes him... broken?”
“I’m sorry I don’t have any definitive answers, all I have are Percy’s theories.”
“Well?”
“Percy thought that when a ghost crossed over the veil they had a very one-sided experience. They could see things, hear things, but they could never be a part of this world, not really.”
“I’ve figured that much, go on.”
“It seems to require an effort on their part to appear in their living form, and even then it’s just a projection from their memory. Percy thought whatever kept a ghost from forming properly might be the same thing that kept them from speaking.”
“Is that what you believe?”
“If that’s the case then why do they turn solid at all, even in brief bouts?”
“Alright, any other theories?” I asked.
“In the end, Percy believed it was unnatural for them to cross. On this side of the veil they seem drained, lacking energy. I don’t know much more, Adelaide, I’m sorry.”
“Well if they can turn solid, even briefly, doesn’t that mean they’re dangerous, or potentially dangerous?”
“Specters are rare, and a corporeal one more so.”
“Oh great, there’s a term for it.”
“Percy very rarely felt threatened by a spirit, and when he did, he just ignored it. You see, ghosts have no way of knowing that you can sense them. It will be your reaction that tips them off.”
“You might have mentioned that before.”
“Well, to be honest, I didn’t think you’d wear the ring so soon.”
“I didn’t. I remember taking it off. I remember leaving it at home.” She was silent for so long I asked, “Nancy?”
“Yes, I’m here,” she answered.
“I know it sounds crazy,” I admitted.
“No, I’m sure there’s a reason. I’m just not sure what it is.”
“That’s alright, you’ve been able to tell me more than I knew. I’ll call if I have more questions.”
“Yes, do that. I’ll read the cards and be in touch if they can shed some light.”
“Um... okay, thanks.”
* * *
My shift was winding down, and I expected Missy to show up sometime soon. So when the door opened I naturally assumed it would be her, I didn’t even bother to look.
“Working hard, no doubt.” My head jerked up at the sound of his smooth voice. He was dressed casually, but even so, it was an effort not to stare.
I reminded myself how much I hated him, and the effects of his charm seemed to lessen. With the ghost incident earlier, I was twitchy like an addict. Reed Wallace couldn’t have picked a worse time to harass me. I glared at him as he came closer.
“You seem to have formed an aversion to my PA. I thought it best to come myself.”
Apart from her choice of employer, I didn’t have a problem with her. It was the secretary that was adverse. But I wouldn’t say that aloud. He wanted me to react, to speak. He could smile all he pleased, but we both knew I could feel his rising irritation.
He handed me an invitation. It was for a dinner party the evening after next, held at the country club. “It’s for my employees—senior members, board members, the higher-ups. I just need you to mingle and feel for anything odd.”
Could he be more vague?
“You’ll notice the invitation doesn’t offer a plus one, that’s because you are the plus one. You’re going as my date.”
“No,” I said instantly.
“Why doesn’t that surprise me,” he responded with a pang of disappointment. “You can’t attend as a server, you wouldn’t get enough exposure.” He eyed me cynically. “Besides, customer service isn’t your strong suit.”
“Not my problem, figure out something else.”
“This group is familiar with one another. They’ll know you’re too...” He smiled, wielding his charm like a weapon. “...beautiful to be an employee, but it won’t be hard for them to imagine we’re seeing each other. You could easily pass for my—”
“Don’t insult me,” I cut in. “It’s a bad idea to piss off the people you need.”
I could feel his irritation, and maybe just a tiny bit of resentment and contempt. I liked knowing I could needle him so easily. “It’s not a matter of need. I’m blackmailing you, remember?” His voice was chilling; the sound startled me into looking up at his face. His expression held something I didn’t want to understand.
The door burst open. I was grateful for the distraction as it forced Reed to move away. He stepped back, fast and fluid. I wondered when he had gotten so close. It would appear I wasn’t entirely impervious to his charm. I’d let him hover above me without even noticing.
“Adelaide, you’ll never guess who’s put up his employees at the Crowne,” Francesca gushed. She was rummaging through her narrow purse, oblivious to Reed.
“Could it be Reed Wallace?”
“Who told?” she pouted, feeling a bit surprised. “No one talks to you but me.”
“That’s not at all flattering,” Reed said with a smile.
Francesca went from slightly surprised to extremely astonished, all the while staring at Reed. She’d just pulled the lip gloss from her purse when he spoke. She still held it, her hand hovering in the air.
“Francesca was it?” he asked, stepping toward her.
Recovering from her daze, she more than met him halfway, rushing to his side. “Yes, Francesca Black. What a strange coincidence seeing you again. Or maybe it’s fate,” she flirted.
“No, not fate, I’m afraid,” he said leaning closer. “I’ve come to speak with Adelaide. She’s temporarily working with me on a project.”
Francesca looked totally flabbergasted. Turning to me she asked, “Why didn’t you mention it?” She was hurt, confused, and yes, even jealous.
Feeling guilty, I admitted what I could. “I tried to turn him down but he blackmailed me.”
Reed laughed like I was joking. “Adelaide wasn’t eager to offer her assistance. It’s true, she did turn me down.”
“Don’t call me Adelaide.”
“Adelaide!” Francesca scolded. Turning back to Reed, she made my excuses for me. “She’s not a people person, you must forgive her.”
“It’s quite refreshing,” he said magnanimously.
“Uh, I’m right here.”
Francesca continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “She’ll be happy to help you I’m sure, we both will. Is there anything I can do?” She stepped closer, her boobs grazing his upper arm.
“Yes, actually,” he said gazing down at her. “Ms. Graves,” he didn’t bother looking at me, “will need a formal gown. I can’t think of anyone...”
I stopped listening to them blubber at each other. I turned toward the phone, picking it up to dial. It rang for a while and I nearly gave up. But finally she answered sounding groggy. “Uh, yes hello?”
“Pattie, it’s me from the front desk. I need you to come to the office right away.”
“Can’t it wait? I’ve already turned in.”
“No, and I promise you’ll always regret it if you don’t.” I winced, those were Francesca’s words to me the first time I’d met Reed. “Oh, and try to look nice, but hurry.”
Pattie impressed me. She showed up less than a minute later. Unfortunately she was wearing a robe, florescent pink with matching slippers. I guess she hadn’t taken me seriously when I advised her to look nice, or maybe she had. I couldn’t tell.
&
nbsp; She spotted Reed instantly, he hadn’t moved. “Oh! Oh my!” She rushed him, inserting herself into his personal space.
Francesca was annoyed, no doubt at the loss of his attention. Reed was weary but tolerant; he probably dealt with this daily. And Pattie, well, she was a lot of things. Feeling her was like feeling two people have sex—mostly it was disturbing. It was also: bliss, adoration, attraction, delight, lust, elation... you get the picture. I hadn’t realized she would react so strongly.
“Reed Wallace, I can’t believe my luck! You’ve got to come to my room and sign things,” Pattie insisted.
I could feel his reluctance, but he was all charm when he answered. Smiling, “I’d be glad to.” He spared a glance over his shoulder while Francesca and Pattie fawned over him. The look he gave me was downright hostile. I smiled, enjoying the loss of control which made his charming façade slip.
Just then Missy stepped through the door. Her first words “Oh shit, you’re Reed Wallace.”
I rolled my eyes, had everyone heard of him? Discreetly I gathered my things and left. I doubt they even noticed I was gone.
Chapter 11
I stared at the ring, feeling undecided. It looked inconsequential lying atop my dresser, just a cheap bead and some wire. I didn’t want to wear it, but I was afraid the damn thing wouldn’t give me a choice.
“Fine,” I said out loud. I slipped it onto my index finger. It fit perfectly, nice and snug, but not too tight. I glanced around the room, waiting for something to pop out. When nothing happened I shrugged, continuing on with my morning routine.
I spent some time in the living room, concocting a puzzle. Teetered on the tip of my couch, I hunched over the coffee table staring down at the classic red truck I’d pieced together. The puzzle was, well... laughable. The truck was boldly parked king-of-the-mountain style at the top of a grassy green incline. Amused, I’d been unable to resist buying such a hillbilly gem.
A bowl of half-eaten cereal was perched to my right. Soggy and forgotten, it left a wet ring on the glass tabletop. I was totally preoccupied, and yet I noticed it immediately this time. No subtle sneaking, though the feeling was still subtle.
The little ghost pranced in from the kitchen, swirling and shifting, fading and misting. Details appeared when its form flashed in solid. This only happened for a few brief moments, tiny blips, and even then the ghost was nothing more than a lumpy blob with four dainty paws and a nub tail. Nancy had said they projected the image they remembered, which made more sense just then.
I sat completely still as the little dog flounced about the room for a minute, then it ran through the front door. The closed front door.
I sat for a moment longer, staring after it. I reluctantly got up and walked to the window, wondering what Percy would do. It was, after all, his gift I was wearing.
Outside the dog was busy trying to dig up my front lawn, but it was unsuccessful. I couldn’t put animal feelings in human terms, but all the same I recognized neediness. As it danced in circles, I didn’t doubt that there was something buried out there that it desperately wanted.
I deliberated for a second or two, though I’d already made up my mind. I left the house through the back door, walking the ever more familiar path. I doubted Lucas would be home, but it was worth a try. He surprised me, answering the door amid my knocking.
“Do you have a shovel I can borrow?”
It must be his day off as he wore only a pair of cargo shorts. I tried not to look at his muscly chest, and I especially tried not to look at his preposterous tan lines. I couldn’t help it though. His arms and neck were ten shades darker than his stomach. It was funny, but he wasn’t the type of person you could laugh at.
He stared at me in his typical fashion, face masked of any emotion but unnervingly direct. Finally, “Yeah, hold on.” He disappeared inside the house, returning a minute later with a ring of keys.
The shovel was inside his shed, which he kept locked. It was a place I recognized as every man’s treasure trove. An endless variety of tools neatly lined the walls while other manly gadgets filled the space between. He held up two different shovels. One had a wide but rounded edge. The other’s was narrow and pointed.
I shrugged.
“Have you ever used a shovel?”
I gave him a condescending look, though I couldn’t recall an exact instance.
He kept the pointy one and left the shed, walking barefoot to my yard. “What do you want me to dig?”
If he had been anyone else I would have refused the offer. “It’s out front.” I took the lead, guiding him around the house.
The ghost hadn’t moved. The stubborn little snot had even managed to swipe up a bit of dirt. I pointed, “There.”
While he worked I moved a few paces back, allowing him some space. After a minute of shifting from foot to foot, I sat, twirling grass as I idly watched. It was nice.
The shovel met resistance all too soon. I stood abruptly. For the first time I wondered what was buried there. Lucas bent closer, using his shovel to scrape away the dirt.
A horrible image came to mind and I turned away so as not to see. “Oh gross, it’s a dead dog, isn’t it?”
Lucas was silent so long I was forced to look. He was kneeling over the newly dug hole, unaware of the little ghost dog jumping all over him. He was also staring at me funny.
“What?” I demanded.
“You are very strange,” was all he said.
“I have a logical reason for the assumption,” I assured.
Dubious, he asked, “Did you bury a dog here?”
“If I had buried a dog I wouldn’t be wondering what was down there, now would I?” I took a step closer, trying to peer inside. “Just tell me what it is.”
The ghost went wild as he extracted a bone, half-chewed and dirty. Oh, duh, I should have guessed. He handed it to me and I immediately set it down. The ghost was so happy, springing and bouncing about. I nearly smiled.
“You’re just going to leave it there?”
I nodded.
“Do you want me to fill in the hole?”
“No, I might need to bury it again later.”
He watched me, probably worried I was crazy, but too soon turned to go. I blurted, “Will you clean out my gutters?” It was lame, I know, I hadn’t even meant to say it.
He stopped, glancing at my house. “When was the last time you cleared them?”
“Uh…” I pretended to think it over. “…never.”
He was quiet for a moment, deliberating. “Yeah I’ll clean out your gutters, but you have to clean my bathroom.”
“What?”
“Clean my bathroom,” he repeated gruffly.
“But bathrooms are gross. When was the last time you cleaned yours?”
“I clean my bathroom more often than you clear your gutters.” He didn’t smile and he didn’t feel, so I couldn’t tell if that was a joke. I thought it was meant to be.
“Not a bathroom,” I said, completely unwilling to go that far. “I’ll clean your kitchen though, twice.”
He nodded and left. It was a bit disappointing. I would have liked to talk some more. But it was probably for the best, we both had trouble with conversations. Baby steps. Today he dug a hole in my yard, and tomorrow he might be cleaning my gutters. So long as I found a few more chores, we might end up dating.
* * *
Francesca arranged her work schedule so we could go shopping the day of my dinner with Reed. For that we had to leave the island. Her car was up and running thanks to Brock, so she drove. We left early (she might have been able to rearrange her schedule, but I didn’t have that luxury). I had to be back by noon.
She complained the whole way, asking for the umpteenth time, “Why does he need your help?”
“I told you exactly what he said. I’m supposed to mingle during dinner and feel for something odd.” I wouldn’t tell Francesca
I was an empath, but neither would I lie.
“That can’t be what he said. It doesn’t make any sense!”
I sighed. “Just say the word and I’ll refuse.” I was sure he’d carry through with his threat to contact my family, the notion was upsetting. But Francesca had been giving off pings of jealousy all morning long, and I would cancel in a heartbeat for our friendship.
It was Francesca who was unwilling to let me. “No! I’m not saying you shouldn’t go, I’m just confused why he asked you.”
“It’s not like he asked me on a date.”
“But he did,” she whined.
“I’m only pretending to be his date, and I’m getting paid, remember?”
“I know, I know.” She took her eyes from the road to glance at me, looking sheepish. “I’m being unreasonable, I’m sorry.”
“It’s hard to be logical when you’re in love.” I said it as a joke, but she nodded like it was sage advice.
In an attempt to change the subject I said, “So while we’re on the topic of men, I should mention that I met one.” She looked at me sharply, the car swerving. “Shit, Francesca!” I screeched. “Eyes on the road!”
She veered back into place. “Sorry, sorry. I just... you took me by surprise.” She gave me a furtive glance. “You don’t mean Reed do you?”
I threw up my arms. “For fuck sake, Francesca, what do you think?”
She shook her head, honestly confused. “I don’t know why I asked that.”
I forgave her. It was his charm, it made them unreasonable. Meeting his secretary made me worried, even scared, that Francesca was turning into that—an obsessed, angry woman.
“So who is he?” She was curious and excited now.
“My neighbor. He’s a mechanic.”
“Did he just move in?”
“No, he’s been around for years.”
“Why didn’t you ever mention him?”
“I didn’t notice him before,” I admitted.
I felt her disappointment, and she didn’t bother trying to hide it. “So he’s not good-looking then?”
“No,” I contradicted. “He’s... intensely attractive, but in a rough southern sort of way.”
She was bubbling with excitement now. “When can I meet him?”
“Never,” I said severely.
“What for?” she asked like a child being denied a treat.