Whoa. Where did that come from? She’d never met the woman. Maybe she was nice. But Joe was nice, too—nice enough to be taken advantage of. Stop it, Sarah. Joe is a grown man. He can take care of himself.
Someone who wasn’t her server brought over a fresh coffee and set it down. She was young—early twenties—and wore her almost-black hair in a cute choppy bob. Sarah smiled at the small anime tattoo of a girl she recognized on her neck.
“I love the tattoo. Isn’t it from Spirited Away?”
“Yeah, Chihiro.”
“Chihiro, right. My niece loves anime, and I watched that movie with her one time. Thanks for the refill, um…”
“Carter. And no prob.”
“I’m Sarah.”
“Good to know.”
Interesting girl. After she’d gone, Sarah sipped her coffee and decided to put Gail out of her mind, focusing instead on wood-fired pizza and red wine.
Joe called around three. Sarah was in her office updating listings on their website and was surprised to hear from him. Usually, he, Manny, and the boys would go at it all day without interruption. The key to these renovations was to move as quickly as possible to make up for time spent waiting for inspections.
“S’up?” she said.
“We found something in the cellar. I think you should take a look.”
“I’m kind of in the middle of something. Can it wait?”
“Can you get over here?” he said. “Please?”
“Okay, calm down. On my way.”
She disconnected and grabbed her purse. Strange. Joe almost never ordered her around. Unless it was something serious.
When she arrived at Casa Abrigo, Sarah found three trucks in the driveway and had to park on the street. As she got out, she noticed the damaged storm drain. More money. Approaching the house, she heard the sounds of men’s voices and banging, and guessed they’d started taking down the wall.
“Joe?” she said, stepping into the foyer.
Manny and his sons, each with a sledge hammer, were covered in white dust as they removed the last of the two-by-fours separating the dining room from the kitchen. Pieces of drywall and wood sat in piles on the floor. She had to admit, the dining room did look better with the kitchen exposed.
“He’s in the cellar,” Manny said.
She made her way past the sweaty men and headed down the cellar stairs. She found Joe holding a flashlight, moving slowly along one of the walls.
“You rang?” Sarah said.
“Hey, glad you’re here. I want to show you something.”
He took her by the hand and led her to an inner wall. Two large wine racks had been pushed aside, and she could see an arched door standing in the middle, similar to the one off the kitchen.
“A secret room? Joe, how did you find this?”
“It was an accident. I dropped my flashlight, and it rolled behind one of the racks. Then, I felt the cold air and had to take a look.”
“What’s inside?”
“No idea. I waited for you.”
“Oh, how sweet. What am I, Miss Marple?” No answer. “Fine.”
Joe took a step back, and Sarah tried the doorknob. Locked.
“Manny!” she said, her singsong voice echoing up the stairs.
It took their foreman longer to unlock this door. When he’d finished, Sarah looked at Joe, and he gestured for her to proceed. The door opened inward and let out a sigh of cold, stale air. She tried seeing into the blackness. Faint light gleamed off bottles that sat on racks along the walls. She could make out piles of storage boxes lying around the room. And there appeared to be something standing in the center. It looked like a figure. Joe shone his flashlight, revealing something tall covered in a dusty white sheet.
“Is there a light?” she said.
Joe felt around and found a switch. A single naked bulb crackled to life, revealing a storage room. Sarah approached the object in the center and, glancing back at Joe, took a breath and pulled the sheet off, revealing a large mahogany mirror—complete with brass candleholders—in perfect condition. Nineteenth century, she guessed.
“A mirror?” Manny said. “Let me know when you find gold.” He trotted back up the stairs.
“Wow,” she said. “What’s this doing in a Spanish revival? And why is it down here?”
“I don’t know. Where does it come from?”
“I saw something like it once in a catalog. Holland, maybe?”
Joe ran his hand along the wood. “It’s in perfect condition—not a mark on it. What do you think we can get for it?”
“Maybe three or four grand? We’ll have to get it appraised.”
“That’s it, I’m moving everything to the warehouse.”
As Joe wandered off to join Manny and the others, Sarah stood before the mirror with her arms folded, studying it. Earlier, she thought she’d seen something out of the corner of her eye. Probably the light playing across the room. Suddenly, the door slammed shut behind her, giving her heart a jolt. The light died out, leaving her in a thick, oppressing blackness.
“Joe?” she said.
No answer. Feeling her way, she found the door and tried the knob. Locked. She began to panic as the temperature in the room plummeted.
“Oh, no. Please, God…”
When she turned to face the mirror again, she could see a luminous, white figure floating toward her behind the glass. Getting her fear in check, Sarah moved closer to get a better look. It was a girl—maybe fourteen or fifteen—with striking blue eyes, straight blonde hair, and pale skin. She seemed to be reaching out to Sarah, her mouth moving silently.
Remembering Alyssa’s warning, Sarah tried touching the glass. A piercing shriek broke the heavy silence as the girl turned hideous and decayed, then vanished in a thin wisp of smoke as the light returned. Unable to move, Sarah could hear the door unlock behind her and felt the temperature returning to normal.
“The girl,” she said to no one.
Five
“Sarah. Hey, Sarah, come on. Wake up.”
When she opened her eyes, Sarah found Joe and Manny looming over her, their faces disproportionately large. Dazed, she glanced to either side of her and realized she was lying on the floor in the storage room at Casa Abrigo, her head resting on Joe’s jacket.
“What happened?” she said.
Joe gently brushed the hair from her face and helped her sit up. “We were about to ask you.”
“I must’ve fainted.”
“Should we call 911?” Manny said. “Maybe she hit her head.”
She felt around for a bump and found nothing. “No, I’m fine.”
Joe turned to Manny. “Can you get her a water from the cooler?”
“Sure.”
“Well, I feel stupid,” she said after Manny had left. “Here, help me up.”
Joe slipped an arm around Sarah’s waist and with his free hand held hers. As he got her to her feet, she noticed the mirror was covered up again. Nacho and Memo walked in and, slipping past Sarah, began carrying the mirror out.
“Hey, where are they taking that?”
“It’s going in my truck,” Joe said.
“Joe, I saw something.” Manny returned with a bottle of water. “Tell you later.”
“Here you go, Sarah.”
“Thanks, Manny.”
Joe retrieved his jacket from the floor. “I think you should go home and rest. I’ll come by later.”
“No, I’m fine.”
He took her other hand and stood directly in front of her, a grim look on his face. “Home. Bed. Now.”
“You really know how to romance a girl. Have you tried using that line on Gail?”
“I’m serious.” Then, to Manny, “I’ll drive her home in her car and you follow, okay?”
“Sí, señor.”
She folded her arms. “Don’t I get a say in this?”
Joe ignored her. “And make sure your sons don’t break anything. I want all those bottles carefully packed and store
d properly at the warehouse.”
As Joe made the short drive to Sarah’s house, she sat on the passenger side with her eyes closed and her arms folded. She’d never fainted before, not even that time when Alyssa’s ghost first appeared to her. Maybe taking the afternoon off was a good idea after all. She didn’t want to think about what falling might have done to her leather jacket. Good thing she hadn’t fractured her skull. She didn’t know why but she felt exhausted, as if the ghostly encounter had sucked the life from her.
“Want to tell me what you saw?” he said.
“Do you remember me mentioning Alyssa?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, that girl I’m supposed to help? She’s living in the mirror.”
“Okay…”
“Joe, I saw her. I think she was trying to communicate with me.”
“I don’t like this, Sarah. Let’s get rid of that thing—I don’t care about the money.”
“Please don’t. Joe, promise me you won’t.” He refused to meet her gaze. “Joe? I mean it. Promise me.”
“Well, it’s going into storage, anyway.”
“Thank you.”
When they reached her house, a yellow-and-white California Bungalow-style home, Sarah let herself out. Joe had blown the budget restoring the property for Sarah because, he said, he wanted her to be happy in Dos Santos. Only she assumed it had more to do with guilt. He’d never apologized to her for lying about wanting children. Maybe in his mind, the house was an apology. Nevertheless, the first time she saw it, she fell in love and began filling the small three-bedroom with Craftsman-style furniture and quirky accessories she’d managed to find on eBay and Etsy.
Joe got out and ran around the Galaxie to help her out. Manny had arrived also and waited in his truck with the engine running.
“You sure are being gentlemanly,” she said.
“You scared the shit out of me.”
“I’m okay.”
To prove her point, she raised her arms above her head and awkwardly did a complete 360 on tiptoes. Smiling falsely, she looked at Joe, and when she saw his expression, slumped her shoulders.
“Fine,” she said. “I promise I’ll stay home and rest. But this doesn’t mean you’re getting out of pizza and wine, Mister.”
“I’ll stop by later.” He turned to go.
“Um, Joe?” He looked at her curiously. “Keys?”
“Oh, right.” He handed them over. “I’ll call Rachel and let her know what happened.”
“Tell her not to worry—and please for the love of all that is good and holy, make sure she doesn’t tell Eddie.”
“Right.”
He gave her shoulder a squeeze and hurried down the steps to Manny’s truck. She waved as they drove off and let herself in. Gary greeted her. She picked him up and hugged him like a long-lost friend.
“I know,” she said. “Why am I home so early? Long story, buddy.”
Sarah’s phone rang. She removed it from her purse and stared at the number.
“That was fast.”
“Sarah?”
“Rachel, I’m fine. Just a little dizzy spell.”
“Maybe you should go to urgent care.”
“It’s okay. I promise. I’m going to take it easy the rest of the day. Please let Blanca know.”
“Sure.”
“And remember—”
“Don’t tell Eddie, I know.”
“Love you. Bye.”
It was early, and Sarah felt she should be working instead of lounging around. Though the experience had frightened her, she was curious about the mirror’s origins and wanted to learn more. She removed her jacket and boots, and closely inspected the jacket. No nicks from the fall—thank goodness. The tiredness she had felt earlier was overpowering, and she decided to take a nap.
It didn’t take long for the dream to come. Sarah felt herself floating in a vast, cloying darkness, a dim light wafting toward her. Soon, she was falling fast. She found herself standing on the cold terra cotta floor of the storage room at Casa Abrigo, the antique mirror looming before her. Though she was afraid to look, she seemed to drift toward it against her will.
When she was close enough, she reached out. But there was no glowing light, only her own reflection. She looked different—the way she had when she was fifteen, with curly hair and braces. She recognized the simple black sheath dress and heels her mother had bought her at Nordstrom for Alyssa’s funeral.
A numbing cold surrounded her, and she tried backing away from the mirror. A pale, white wisp of a hand came to rest on her shoulder. When she turned, she found the girl staring at her, her eyes nothing but deep, black holes that seemed to go on forever. She grinned as she yanked Sarah by the hair and, pulling her close, whispered something in her ear.
“He’s coming.”
Startled, Sarah awoke and noticed Gary on the bed next to her, playing with something on the duvet. She leaned over to see what it was and found a pair of blue eyes, the bloody stalks leaving a dark red smear on the bedding. Terrified, Sarah scrambled out of bed and fell back on the floor, hitting the back of her head on the nightstand.
“Ow!”
Recovering, she scooted forward on her knees up to the bed and, bracing herself, took another look. Everything appeared normal. No eyes, no bloodstains. She heard a maow and turned. Gary was sitting in the doorway, calmly licking something off his paw.
After a long, hot shower and a glass of whiskey, Sarah felt better. Joe had called to tell her something had come up, and he wouldn’t be able to keep their date. But he wanted to know how she was. She suspected Gail was the reason and, rather than insist, she decided to let him off the hook. He promised to check in on her in the morning.
It was after seven. Sarah fed the cat and fixed herself a mixed green salad and pasta with a carbonara sauce she’d made from scratch and had frozen the previous weekend. She owned an impressive cookbook collection and always kept plenty of food on hand. She had been looking forward to trying the expensive Bordeaux, but instead of opening a different wine decided to stick to sparkling water.
After she’d cleaned up the kitchen, Sarah took two ibuprofen capsules, put on some jazz, and sat at her laptop in her home office. The dream had been terrifying, and she felt the ghost was trying to warn her. He’s coming. A person? The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come?
When she and Alyssa were kids, they liked pretending they were ghost hunters. Often, they would lurk around old, abandoned houses and run-down strip malls. When Eddie found out, he put the kibosh on their activities. As an adult, Sarah had undertaken a few informal paranormal investigations. They consisted mostly of checking people’s houses for “ghosties,” as Joe liked to call them. Nothing serious, and certainly nothing threatening. One time, she’d tried assisting the police chief on a missing persons case. But that had turned out to be a bust, and she ended up not being any help at all.
The mysterious circumstances surrounding the sale of Casa Abrigo bothered Sarah, and she was determined to learn the house’s history. But where to start? She went online and looked up information about the property on the county assessor’s website. Not helpful. She could always visit their offices in person, but she might have to involve Joe. And this was something she wanted to do on her own. Gary was sitting on her desk, watching her. As she turned to look at him, the cat cocked his head to one side.
“What’s that, Gary? The information I need is at the office?”
Though she’d promised Joe she would stay home, the urge to discover the property’s secrets was overwhelming. Ignoring any reservations she might have, she got dressed and headed out, hoping she could remember the alarm code.
Sarah arrived at the real estate office around ten and, risking a ticket, parked on the street. The Cracked Pot looked lively, and she could see customers alone or in groups sitting at tables near the windows, some wearing earbuds and looking at their laptops or phone screens.
“Nighthawks,” she said, reminded of the Edward Hopper
painting she had first seen in college while studying the painter and his wonderful anti-narrative symbolism.
Sarah unlocked the front door and entered. She had expected to hear the alarm beeping, but all was quiet. Switching on the lights, she gazed around the office. Everything looked normal. And yet, there was something… Shrugging off the feeling, she headed to Rachel’s office to look for the Casa Abrigo file. Rachel always closed her door when she left work; now it was open. Uneasy, Sarah turned on the light and went in. From a distance, she could hear quick footsteps. The rear office door banged open. Her heart racing, she decided to investigate.
Outside, the parking lot was dark. A light wind was blowing dead, wet leaves across the asphalt. She’d forgotten to tell Rachel about having the bad floodlight replaced and was afraid to go outside. There was no movement of any kind. After locking the door and rechecking it, she returned to Rachel’s office.
She spent several minutes looking through her sister’s file cabinets. Rachel was very organized and liked to organize her properties in color-coded files. Sarah remembered her sister kept the most current files in a metal file organizer on her desk. But when she went through it, she couldn’t find Casa Abrigo. Next, she went through all the papers on Rachel’s desk. No luck. She got out her phone and dialed.
“Hey, Rache?” Sarah said. It was almost eleven, and she hoped she hadn’t awakened her sister.
“Sarah? Is everything okay?”
“Calm down, I’m fine. Listen, I’m at the office—”
“What? You’re supposed to be home resting.”
“Come on, dude, I get enough of that from Joe. Anyway, I’m looking for the Casa Abrigo file. It’s not in the file cabinet or on your desk.”
“Joe has it.”
“Oh, okay. Guess I’ll get it from him tomorrow.”
The Girl in the Mirror Page 5
