More than a Phoenix

by Ashlyn Chase

  Mallory glanced over her shoulder and saw the kid’s grandfather. He looked just like him—well, a hint of what he’d look like in a few decades.

  “A lot of kids seem to have extra energy spurts when they go to a photographer,” she said, maintaining her own polite smile.

  “Let’s get a few more,” the young mother said.

  “Sure. Would you like one with Granddad?” She indicated the gentleman to her right.

  The woman’s posture stiffened. “With who?”

  She faced the doting man and addressed him directly. “I don’t know what you like to be called, sir. Grandpa? Papa?”

  “I’m his father. You can call me Mike.”

  “Oh! Okay, Mike it is.”

  The woman shot to her feet, almost dropping her two-year-old son. “What is wrong with you?”

  Oh no. Here we go again. “I’m sorry. Did I say something to upset you?” She had obviously mistaken a spirit for flesh and bone again. Or maybe the woman was sensitive just because an older man was mistaken for a granddad.

  Sometimes, Mallory tried to play dumb while coming up with something else she could have plausibly said. Let’s see. I said, Mike it is. So, talking about photos… Like it is? Tike that he is? Mice… Oh crap. I’m coming up with zilch.

  “Yes, you upset me. Do you always talk to a kid’s dead father?”

  “Dead father? Oh, I’m sorry!” Sheesh. I hope you left them lots of money, Mallory thought.

  “If I didn’t, it’s too late now,” he joked.

  Mallory had finally figured out she saw dead people. Unfortunately, she didn’t know if they were real or not, and occasionally, she made an oopsy, but this was the first one to read her mind! “Oh crap. It’s getting worse,” she mumbled.

  “I’d like to speak to your boss.”

  Her supervisor was a nice, understanding guy. But this was one misunderstanding he wouldn’t know how to smooth over. “There shouldn’t be any need to bother him, ma’am. I can offer you a free photo from this sitting and another free sitting if you don’t see one you like from today.”

  “Like hell. I want your boss to know the kind of stunt you’re pulling. Although I’m not sure what your angle is yet. Is this where you tell me you’re a medium and my dear departed wants to tell me something, if I’d like to pay you for the information?”

  “No! Nothing like that.”

  Damn. She spotted her boss, Bailey, returning from lunch early, and it looked like he noticed something was wrong. He was picking up his pace.

  The woman was struggling to get the squirming toddler into his spring jacket when Bailey arrived.

  “Is everything all right here?”

  “No. No, it is not.” And now the mom had tears in her eyes.

  Mallory couldn’t help feeling awful about the misunderstanding, but how the heck could she explain it without sounding—well, crazy? “I’m sorry, Bailey. There was a misunderstanding. It was my fault. I told her I’d pay for her son’s picture and give her another sitting if she’s not happy with the shots I took.”

  “What was the misunderstanding?”

  “I…uh…that is to say, I…”

  “She tried to tell me she was communicating with my dead husband.”

  “I didn’t tell her that! I saw someone and thought he was with them.”

  “She called him by name.” The woman crossed her arms and glared. “There was nobody there. She spoke to thin air and asked if he—or whatever she was seeing—would like to get in the picture. Either it was some kind of scam, or your girl here has a screw loose.”

  He gaped at her. “I don’t know what to say except what Mallory already said. We’re terribly sorry. There will be no charge for today, and we’ll be glad to retake the shoot whenever you like.”

  “Is she going to be the one taking the pictures?” The woman zipped up her son’s jacket, and he started to cry.

  Bailey glanced at Mallory. “She’s my usual photographer, but I have a part-timer coming on soon.”

  Mallory didn’t know anything about a new hire.

  The woman hoisted a huge diaper bag over her shoulder. “I’ll set up an appointment after you have a new employee.”

  Mallory had to make nice with this woman. “When I have the proofs—”

  “I’ll call you,” her boss interjected.

  “Fine. I never want to see her again.” The woman swung the toddler up into her arms and marched off.

  “What the hell happened while I was at lunch?” Bailey asked.

  “I…uh…”

  “Yeah. You said that a couple of times now. Can you give me a better explanation?”

  Mallory fidgeted. “Not really. I saw someone out of the corner of my eye, thought it was the father or grandfather, and spoke with him about how much the kid looked like him.”

  “And who were you speaking to?”

  “Apparently, the father’s spirit. When I turned back, he wasn’t there.”

  “Let me get this straight. You spoke to the child’s father, who you thought was there in the flesh, and yet he disappeared in the time it took to glance away.”

  “Yes.”

  “So were you talking to…a ghost?”

  “Apparently.”

  “Have you seen ghosts before?”

  Mallory focused on her shoes and kicked at the floor. “Yes. A couple of times.”

  Bailey was silent for a while. “And you can’t tell the difference between someone who’s actually there and a spirit? Like…you can’t see through them or anything?”

  “No. I mean yes. I mean no, I can’t tell. Yes, I can’t see through them.”

  “She said you called him by name. How did you know his name?”

  “The man said to call him Mike.”

  “So you heard as well as saw whatever it was?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you see him now?”

  “No.” After a brief hesitation, she filled in what would probably be his next question. “He left with the woman and her child.”

  “Just now, while I was standing here.”

  “Yes.”

  Oh boy. She knew she was in for it. His expression didn’t give away much, but he walked to the phone and pushed a button. One button. Probably Security.

  * * *

  Dante had pored over the alchemy book, making lists of what they’d need. His brother played on his iPad and seemed oblivious, which was weird, since it was his book and experiment. “Noah, are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You just seem quieter than usual.”

  “I’m fine. Just doing a little background check on Dr. Samuels.”

  “Kizzy? Why? What have you found?”

  “Just the usual stuff on Facebook. Pictures of her in her cap and gown. Some with an older guy who must be her father. A couple of shots at a lake with Ruth and a couple of other girls. She doesn’t post much. There was a charity clothing drive and a 5K she was asking people to sponsor. A LinkedIn and Google search confirmed that she’s a doctor at Boston General.”

  “So basically, she told you the truth. You didn’t discover any surprises?”

  “Nope. The only thing she didn’t tell me is that she likes good causes.”

  “So, how about if you invite her to the Battle of the Badges basketball game? It’s to raise money for the children’s hospital.”

  “Sure, except I’ll be on the court, and she’ll be sitting alone in the stands.”

  “She’d probably love watching you play for charity. And who says she’ll be alone? She could bring her sister or a friend.”

  Noah nodded slowly, as if he were thinking about it.

  “Not to change the subject, but I was about to go out and get some of the stuff we need to set up our lab,” Dante sai
d.

  Still not looking up, Noah asked, “Do you really think it’ll work?”

  “There’s only one way to find out, dude. With your science brains and my Latin translation skills and both of us believing in the unbelievable, I wouldn’t be surprised if we’re rolling in gold someday.”

  Noah laughed. “Even if we only get a nugget, it’ll be more than we had before.”

  “Do you want to come with? Or would you rather stay here and clean the spare room?”

  Noah looked up from his iPad and opened his mouth as if to make a smart remark when Dante’s phone rang.

  Dante held up one finger. “Hold that thought. Hello?”

  “Dante, it’s Mallory. I…uh…I need a ride home from work. Would you be able to come and get me?”

  “Sure.” He thought he heard her sniffle. “Are you okay?”

  “Not really. I got fired from my job. The security guards escorted me outside and everything. They don’t want me to take the bus. They want someone to come and get me.”

  “I’ll be right there. Where should I look for you?”

  “I’ll be the loser on the sidewalk across from Lord & Taylor.”

  “You’re not—”

  “And don’t tell me I’m not a loser!”

  “Okay. I’ll be there in fifteen or twenty minutes.” Dante hung up the phone and said, “Plans have changed, Bro. Mallory needs me to pick her up at the mall.”

  “Does that get me out of cleaning the back room or shopping for glass beakers and stuff?”

  “Hey, this is your baby. I’m just assisting you.” Dante grabbed his jacket and keys. “Maybe you can find that lead musket ball you’ve been hanging on to for some damn reason. We need lead to turn into gold.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’ll see what I can do about that. Maybe I’ll even clean up the spare room. Should I wait for you before I make my first million?”

  “Nah. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Mallory might want to talk or something.”

  “Okay. Go play knight in shining armor.”

  Dante smiled. Noah was joking, but he’d love to be Mallory’s knight.

  Chapter 3

  Dante spotted her. Head down, Mallory sat on the filthy sidewalk with her feet in the gutter. Her business suit must be getting ruined, but she clearly didn’t care. It broke Dante’s heart to see her like this.

  Pulling up beside her, he leaned over and opened the passenger-side door. He thought about parking and coming to escort her to the car like a gentleman, but he figured she’d just want to get out of there as soon as possible.

  She looked up. Her makeup had run, and her eyes were red and puffy. Shit. They left her crying on the sidewalk. How humiliating!

  Stoop-shouldered, she rose slowly and dropped into the bucket seat of his Camaro.

  “Jesus, Mallory. What happened?”

  She sighed. “You can probably guess…”

  “Not really. Did it have something to do with seeing someone who wasn’t there?”

  “I could have sworn he was real,” she said softly. “He even told me his name and that the little boy I was photographing was his son. Cute little kid. Until his mother freaked out, and then her son started crying too.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “Yeah.” She sighed. “Of course, it didn’t help that I thought I was talking to the boy’s grandfather. I guess some guys go prematurely gray.”

  “Or the woman may have married a much older man.”

  “True. Men don’t shoot blanks until they’re, what…fifty or sixty?”

  Dante covered a smile by looking the other way as he pulled into the street, merging with traffic. “Where would you like to go?”

  She shrugged. “Home, I guess.”

  “It’s almost lunch time. Why don’t we get some takeout on the way? I don’t imagine you feel much like cooking.”

  “You got that right.”

  “What are you in the mood for?”

  “I don’t know. Strychnine? Arsenic?”

  “Hey.” He reached over and rubbed the back of her neck. “Don’t talk like that. We’ll figure out what’s going on and fix this.”

  “How? And why would you want to? I’m a total train wreck.”

  “Oh, man… Let’s put off that conversation for a minute.” Dante speed-dialed his favorite pizza place. “Yeah, I’d like to order a large pizza. My lady friend will tell you what toppings to put on it.”

  Mallory sighed. “Just veggies on half and whatever my man friend wants on the other half.” She gave him a weak smile.

  “Pepperoni,” he said. “I’ll pick it up in a few minutes. It’s for Dante Fierro.”

  As usual, the traffic took care of any wait time needed to make a fresh pizza. He picked it up while Mallory stayed in the car. He was glad she didn’t offer to pay for it. He’d like to think of this as their first date. Yeah, what a pathetic date. Hopefully, there would be others, and he could make those special.

  He followed her directions and pulled into a short driveway in front of her two-story white vinyl-sided town house. Nice but boring. The large development made him think of how easy it would be to walk into the wrong place after a few beers—provided anyone left their doors unlocked. Nobody in South Boston would, of course.

  A few steps led up to the front door. A far cry from the beautiful brownstone town house he’d grown up in. He didn’t know where Mallory had lived in high school. Her father was in real estate, but she could have been raised in a high-rise condo or low-rent apartment for all he knew. There was a lot he didn’t know about Mallory Summers. He was anxious to learn more.

  She led him up a short flight of carpeted stairs and into an open-concept kitchen, living, and dining room. He thought the house style was called a split-level.

  “It’s basic, but it’s home, thanks to my father. It’s his development.”

  “Nice. Do you own it?”

  “Sort of.”

  Carrying the pizza, he glanced around, taking in the neutral palette and the tasteful decor. She must have kept the place clean and decluttered, since she didn’t know he was coming over. That, or it was brand new. The place was pristine.

  “Have you lived here long?”

  “Not long at all. I still have a few things in boxes in the storage space downstairs.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything. Noah and I have lived in our apartment for two years, and we still have stuff in boxes.”

  “Tsk, tsk,” she said, smiling. She seemed to be kidding. That was a good sign.

  “Do you want this in the kitchen?” he said, lifting the pizza box.

  “Just put it on the dining table. I’ll get some plates.” She paused on her way to the cabinets. “Wine?”

  “Sure. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

  “Oh, I don’t think you want an entire bottle, since that’s what I’ll be having.”

  He chuckled. Even with her life falling apart, she was able to maintain a sense of humor. At least he hoped that was an attempt at humor. “Yeah. A glass will do, since I’m driving, and I have to work tonight.”

  “Oh. Am I keeping you from getting ready for work?”

  “I’m as ready as I get. We have lockers, and I always keep a clean uniform there.”

  She gave him a shy smile as she retrieved two plates and wine glasses, then placed them on the table. “I’d like to see you in action.”

  He took that as another positive sign. “You can come by anytime. I work at the firehouse on Broadway.”

  “I might. Lord knows I have nothing else to do.” She grabbed the Chianti from the small built-in wine rack above the fridge.

  “That’s a handy use of the empty space above a refrigerator.” He wasn’t about to comment on how hard it was to reach anything in a cabinet up there, pointing out her less than dramatic hei
ght. She might be five feet six.

  “Yup. My father thought of everything.”

  “Oh yeah. You said he built this place. Is it just this building or the whole street? There are more town houses that look similar.”

  “Three blocks.” She uncorked the wine and poured two glasses half full.

  “Wow. Does he charge you rent?”

  “Just enough to cover the property taxes and maintenance fees. It’s a condo. I get all the perks with none of the mortgage. That’s why I really can’t afford to move. Who else is going to ‘give me’ a condo?”

  He thought about all the sugar daddies out there who’d probably love to keep her as a side piece. Again, he didn’t know her well, but he was fairly sure she wouldn’t resort to that.

  They ate their pizza with their hands. Apparently, she wasn’t the fancy type, or Italian. He had been assured by his parents that using silverware was the only way to consume pizza. His fellow firefighters contradicted that notion, eating it right out of the box. With them, he was lucky to get a paper plate.

  “You said you were an artist. Do you have a studio in a spare bedroom or something?”

  “Not in a bedroom. I would hate to damage the new carpeting. I asked my father to leave the basement unfinished. I have a washer and dryer down there, as well as my studio. Do you want to see it after lunch?”

  “Sure. I’d like that. Your place is so nice and junk-free, if you’re not cramming the extra stuff in a spare room where it will all fall out when you open the door.”

  She laughed. It was a welcome sound. “I have two walk-in closets. I use one for clothes, the other for cramming.”

  They smiled at each other and swiftly went back to finishing their lunch.

  Mallory had one piece of pizza, and Dante had two. He’d have finished his half of the pizza, except he wanted to leave some for her to have later. He imagined she might not want to make dinner either.

  The wine seemed to relax her. She stopped at one glass, and he was glad to see she had changed her mind about drowning her sorrows. Mallory wasn’t nearly the train wreck she thought she was. At least he didn’t think so. Seeing dead people was certainly inconvenient. Maybe he was foolishly giving his high school crush the benefit of every doubt.