“Meet here for breakfast again? Say eight?” he asked, scanning his gaze over her as if she were going to be his breakfast.
Alarm bells went off in Grace’s head. “That’s kind of you to offer, but I need to run into the office for a meeting first thing,” she lied. “I can meet you here for a quick cup of coffee while we go over the listings we’ll be touring.”
“Okay. I can live with that.” He smiled at her, his green eyes twinkling. “It’s a date.”
“A date?” a very familiar male voice said from behind her.
Bill. Grace stiffened and unconsciously curled her hand into a fist.
“Are you sure that’s what you want to do?” He appeared at their table, smiling down at her gently. “It’s been a rough few months, and all this dating just seems to be a little much, don’t you think?”
“Excuse me?” Grace glared up at her ex and wondered what would happen if she just reached out and junk-punched him.
“It’s just a little too fast,” he told Matt. “She’s been out of the dating pool for over twenty years, and two dates in one week seems a little fast.”
Two dates? When and how had he heard about Owen?
Matt cocked an eyebrow at Bill. “Uh, how do you know Grace?”
Bill smiled patiently at the man. “I’m her soon-to-be ex-husband. We had a really good run, but just grew apart. You know how it is.”
Grace, who had been shocked beyond words when Bill suddenly decided to inject his opinion on her fledgling dating life, snapped out of her silence and let out a sardonic laugh. “Sure. It’s not easy to stay in sync when your husband is boinking the office receptionist.”
Matt turned steely eyes on Bill. “Perhaps you should step back and let Ms. Valentine and I finish our business meeting.”
“Business meeting?” Bill stared at Grace. “What business?”
Grace gave him a sickly-sweet smile, thoroughly enjoying herself as she said, “Real estate business, Bill. I work for Kevin Landers now.”
Bill’s pudgy face turned a dark shade of red as he sputtered, “Landers? You work for Landers?”
“Sure,” she said breezily. “Who else was I going to work for? Surely you didn’t expect me to come ask you for a job at On Pointe, did you?”
“Well, why wouldn’t you?” he said, appearing completely bewildered.
Grace rose from her seat and grabbed the bill the waitress had left on the table. “Bill, you’re an idiot.”
“You really are,” she heard Matt say as she stalked off to pay for their breakfast. She watched from the counter as the two got into an obviously heated conversation before Bill finally trudged over to the counter.
“That client is a douche, Grace,” he said with a sneer. “Bad news. Tell him to get another agent. You don’t need that trash.”
Grace signed her credit card bill and then turned to stare at him for a long moment.
“What? I’m just looking out for you.”
“You are not. You’re just pissed I’m moving on,” she countered.
He scoffed. “Moving on? It sounds more like you’re dating anyone who will have you. Really, Grace? Shondra’s brother said you were making out with a guy half your age the other night at the beach. Now you’re dating a client? What happened to you?”
Red-hot indignation coursed through her veins. The catcaller who’d seen her and Owen kissing had been Shondra’s little brother? That was just freakin’ perfect, wasn’t it? She poked a finger into Bill’s chest as she spoke through clenched teeth. “The moment you decided to sleep with Shondra you lost the right to have any input in my life. Mind your own damned business, Bill. I’ll date whoever the hell I want to.”
“Grace—” he started.
“I don’t want to hear it.” She spun on her heel and stormed out.
Matt met her just outside the café.
“I am so sorry,” Grace said, mortified that her ex had interrupted their meeting, and worse, made her look like a fool. “That was completely unprofessional. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“Please. No need to say more.” He glanced through the window at Bill, who was at the counter ordering something to go. “I guess now’s a good time to let you know I interviewed him before settling on Landers Realty.”
Grace’s eyebrows shot up. “You did?” She hadn’t realized they’d met before, but now that she looked back on it, they had seemed more familiar than strangers.
Matt ran a hand through his silver hair and chuckled. “Yes. He was more interested in talking about his… ah, personal life than my real estate needs. I appreciate that you and Landers appear to be one hundred percent professional.”
“Thank you,” she said, wondering if she’d misinterpreted that look he’d given her earlier. Because right in that moment, he was all business. “We do our best.”
“That’s what I’m counting on.” He gave her a short nod and added, “I’ll see you in the morning. I’m looking forward to being impressed.”
Grace watched as the man climbed into a Land Rover that was equipped with a surfboard on the top. He waved briefly and then took off toward the beach.
All signs indicated that if she were interested, he just might be the perfect catch. He was attractive in an interesting way, fit enough to surf, was financially secure enough to buy a beach home, and his kids were grown. And even though she’d second guessed herself, she knew she hadn’t misconstrued his interest. Not that she’d ever act on it while he was her client, but after… Maybe?
But as she tried to picture herself walking with him on the beach, the only person she saw was Owen. The man who was too young for her and definitely not Mr. Forever.
She let out a bark of laughter and shook her head, trying to dislodge her thoughts. Mr. Forever? That was the last thing she needed.
What she needed was Mr. Right Now. Bill and his judgment could just go to hell.
Chapter Twelve
“I thought Joy was going to meet us,” Hope said. She was standing next to Grace in front of the large white cottage. The waves crashed in the distance, and the scent of the sea was thick in the dense fog.
“She’s at the courthouse researching property records.” The day before when Grace had been brainstorming ways to combat her haunted houses, she’d enlisted both of her coven sisters to help her figure out the best way to cleanse them without inviting new problems. Joy, whose hobbies included genealogy, figured it was best to find out who the ghosts were so they’d have a better idea of how to deal with them. Which was good since Gigi had asked Grace if she could find out the identities of the ghosts at the Victorian house. Hope was more of a take-charge kind of witch, just like Grace.
“What do you think?” Grace asked as she wrapped her sweater around herself tighter. She mentally thanked herself for taking the time to change from the skirt she’d worn that morning to jeans. The air had chilled significantly in the early afternoon, and even though early June was normally all sunshine in their seaside town, the skies had turned gray and drizzle was in the forecast. “Do we just go in with smudge sticks blazing, or should we do a salt circle and call in a goddess?”
Hope, who was dressed similarly in jeans and a sweatshirt, gazed at the cottage with her eyes squinted. She had the most experience with cleansing spaces and had offered to help Grace see what they could do. “It depends on how entrenched the spirit is in the fabric of the house. Can we go in first so I can get a feel for things?”
“Sure.” Grace handed her a sachet of cloves. “Put this on.”
Hope did so without comment and handed Grace a sage stick. “I got these at that place up north run by the Wiccan elder. They’re supposed to be more powerful than the average sage bundles we get around here.”
“They’re worth a try.”
“Let’s do this.” Hope strode up to the house, and without hesitation, she barged right in.
Grace followed closely behind her, and the moment she stepped over the threshold, icy cold air pricked h
er skin as if it were tiny little ice needles. “Ouch!” she complained and dropped the sage bundle as she pressed her hands to her cheeks to soothe the ache. She glanced at Hope, who was standing in the middle of the empty room looking contemplative. “Didn’t you feel that?”
“Yep. I’m ignoring it.” She closed her eyes and started to spin in a very slow circle.
Grace wanted to run back out of the house and demand that the owner find a professional but then realized that she was the professional. If she, a witch, couldn’t figure out how to deal with the spirits taking over the house, who could? Ghost hunters? The ones she knew were just data collectors. They didn’t do anything but smudge buildings and politely ask spirits to leave. That worked fine most of the time. But some spirits refused to leave, and if they were nefarious, that’s when everything went to hell.
Hope started to shimmer with magic.
As soon as the golden light appeared, the house groaned, making the hair stand up on Grace’s arms. A shiver ran through her, but she steeled her spine and got to work. She pulled out her camera and started to methodically take pictures of each area of the room.
“That’s really strange,” Hope said.
Grace continued to take pictures as she asked, “What’s strange?”
“As soon as you started to take photographs, the spirits vanished.”
“What do you mean, vanished?” She lowered the camera and turned to look at her friend. “Are you saying they’re camera shy?”
Hope nodded, her dark curls bouncing around her pink cheeks. “They don’t want us to know who they are.”
Grace blinked at her. “How do you know that?”
“Just a guess.” She dropped the canvas bag she’d been carrying and said, “Let’s do this. Maybe now that they have left, we can make it so uncomfortable that they don’t want to come back.”
“If you say so.” Grace walked over to one of the windows that faced the ocean and opened it wide. The thick fog immediately started to seep in through the window. It was both amazing and creepy as all get out. Grace had lived in the small seaside town for over twenty years, and she was still awed by mother nature’s natural wonders. “I’m not sure anyone can get out through this stuff.”
Hope chuckled. “They can if they want to badly enough.”
Grace rejoined her friend, grabbed her sage stick, and held it up with Hope’s. Together they conjured a flame to light them both at the same time and chanted, “Purify this home by the sea. Release the ghosts, let them be free. Break the chains that bind, so that the tethers to this place unwind.”
Grace broke away from Hope, waving the sage smoke in the air. She had to admit that the house felt much more at peace than it had the day she’d toured it. Could it really have been that easy? Take a few pictures to scare them off and then sage the place? If it was, whomever Mr. Saint had hired must have been the most incompetent—
BOOM!
Grace jerked so hard she stumbled backward into a fireplace mantle, cracking her elbow against the wood. “Ouch. Son of a chicken!”
Hope took off running up the stairs, and with unshed tears stinging Grace’s eyes, she followed closely on her heels. Whatever had happened wasn’t good, and Grace was likely to be held responsible. A pit formed in the depths of her stomach, and she pressed a palm to her gut, trying to settle the unease.
BOOM!
They both stumbled to a stop as the sound reverberated through the house again.
“Go!” Grace demanded, giving her friend a tiny shove. If the ghosts were destroying the house, they had to stop them somehow.
Hope cursed under her breath and then ran up the rest of the stairs. The two of them raced toward the end of the hall, following the ear-splitting noise and ending up in the master bedroom.
The house went eerily silent.
“Um, Hope?” Grace asked.
“Yeah?”
“I think we’re not welcome here.”
“You’re not wrong about that. We should’ve summoned a goddess.” She let out a breath and held the sage bundle high in the air.
“Can we still do that?” Grace did the same with her sage bundle.
“Maybe, but I doubt anything we do today is going to help. We’ve already pissed them off.”
Dammit. How was Grace going to show Matt the house the next day? The spirits would scare him off in five seconds flat. Not to mention that she wasn’t exactly crazy about selling someone a house that was haunted by spirits that might be of the evil variety.
“It’s probably better at this point to wait and see what Joy comes up with and try to figure out why the spirits are tied to this place. That might make it easier to form a game plan.”
“You’re probably right.” Grace started to move toward the bedroom door, but then the bathroom light flashed on.
Both Grace and Hope moved into the large en suite bathroom to investigate.
“There,” Hope whispered, pointing at the mirror that was fogged over despite the lack of steam or moisture in the room.
Grace focused on the mirror and watched as a message in the most beautiful handwriting she’d ever seen appeared in the condensation on the surface.
Roots run deep. Family is the only thing that matters. We will never give up.
* * *
“Family is the only thing that matters,” Grace said, repeating what seemed to be the most important part of the message the spirits had left in the mirror. “Do you suppose they want us to solve a mystery? You know, like they can’t move on until justice is served or something?”
Hope flipped the menu over and stared at the cocktails. After they’d left the house, the pair had headed straight for Hallucinations, a beachside bar, to drink a late lunch. “It’s a possibility I suppose.” She pointed at the concoction at the bottom of the cocktail menu. “Lost Your Bikini. That one sounds like me, doesn’t it?”
“Is it a mix of both light and dark rum and something teeth-achingly sweet?” Grace asked, eyeing the totchos. They were a mix of tater tots and nacho toppings and were to die for. So many calories, but after her day, she rationalized that she deserved the indulgence.
“You know me so well.” Hope grinned. “I hope it comes in a bucket.”
Grace snorted. “I’m sure you can just order more if necessary.”
“But that’s not as fun,” she whined.
After the encounter at the big white cottage, Grace couldn’t blame her. In fact, when the waiter arrived, she ordered the same drink and had to stop herself from asking for a double.
“We probably need to hit the gym after this.” Hope sighed as she glanced down at her belly.
Grace shook her head. “Forget it. After the day we had, I’m now planning to go home, take a long bath in the spa tub and read a book.”
“No you won’t. You’re much more likely to take a long walk on the beach and spend the rest of the night thinking about what that message means.”
“What message?” Joy asked as she slid into the booth next to Hope. Her long blond hair was pulled up into a bun that was secured with a No. 2 pencil.
Grace just looked at her and sighed. “You know, if I rolled in here with my hair like that, a pencil smudge on my cheek, and zero makeup, I’d be a candidate for a production of Night of the Living Dead. But this wench? She looks like she belongs on the pages of Maxim selling laptops or something.”
Hope snorted. “You’re right.” She peered at Joy. “How do you do that?”
Joy rolled her eyes. “Stop it. It’s just because I’m wearing a pencil skirt and this button-down shirt. I went to the courthouse right after a meeting for the new Arts Market co-op.”
“And you decided to dress like a hot schoolteacher for that?” Grace asked. “Why?”
“I’m on the board, vice president, remember?” she said, sounding impatient with their teasing. “I had a meeting with the city council to try to nail down the details for the monthly Art in the Park event. The last thing they needed was another hippy-dip
py artist type who says things like, ‘It all depends on if Mercury is in Retrograde’ or ‘Don’t worry about the details. They always work themselves out.’ Remember when Cynder was in charge? Ads ran days after events. Artists were setting up in two different parks. And she even let that erotica-on-demand writer have a booth next to the bouncy house they set up for the kids. Oh, remember when she—”
“Whoa,” Grace said, waving her hands in the air. “Slow down there, feisty. We were just teasing you. Everyone knows you’re going to whip that co-op into shape. No need to defend your outfit, especially when you’ve got that sexy-librarian thing going on.”
Hope nodded and took a long sip of her tropical drink the waiter had delivered during Joy’s monologue.
“I’m glad you two think so. Paul wouldn’t notice if I was butt-naked except for my flashing tassels on my tatas.”
Grace, who’d been sampling her drink, choked and spit out the red liquid. “You have flashing tassels?”
Hope chuckled. “You didn’t hear about the tassels?”
“No.” Grace peered at Joy. “How come I’m lacking this vital information?”
Joy winced. “Sorry, Grace. It was right after you learned about Bill and Shondra. I didn’t want to burden you with my nonsense.”
Grace felt the sting of tears hit the backs of her eyes and angrily blinked them back. It wasn’t that she was upset that she hadn’t been looped in on the story. She didn’t need to know every tiny detail of her friends’ lives. She was angry that once again, no matter how minor the incident, Bill had robbed her of sharing this with her girlfriends. Who knew how many other things they’d kept from her in an effort to be sensitive? She appreciated them with all her heart, but she hated that anyone had felt it necessary to shield her from their everyday lives.
“Spill it,” Grace demanded. “I need to know if I should overnight some before my next date.”
“Do it,” Hope urged, pumping her eyebrows as if she were in some comedy skit. “No need to hear a story about them before deciding. Besides, the faster you introduce the toys, the sooner you know what you’re in for in the bedroom.”
Witching For Grace: Premonition Pointe, Book 1 Page 9
