Perfect Paige

by Ines Saint

  * * *

  Alex had managed to ask two new people a few questions before the announcement. He hadn’t expected anything other than eating a cookie with his grandmother and great-aunt at a table, and then getting on with his day. Now any authority he had and any respect he’d gained had gone out the window. No matter, though. He’d gain it back. So he stood there while everyone sang “Happy Birthday to You.”

  “Er—sorry. I didn’t expect it to get out of hand,” Hope said as people laughed and sang.

  “But they’re not making fun,” Paige was quick to add. “Everyone here has been subject to meddling by the three strange women. They get it. Trust me.”

  Alex slanted them a look. “You think this is embarrassing?” he asked. “It’s not. This is nothing. I’m immune to it all.”

  When everyone was finished, they clapped, and Alex thanked them. He then sat down, cool as a cucumber, to eat one of Paige’s cookies. It would show he was a good sport, so he could soon continue to question others around them. Hope sat down next to him. His grandmother tapped Hope on the shoulder and asked, “You are married, no?”

  Hope looked up. “No.”

  “Then no sit on corner of table or you no marry for seven years.”

  Hope smiled. “Then I’ll stay right here. I don’t want to marry for at least seventy.”

  “You be dead.”

  “Exactly.” Hope reached for one of his gluten-free cookies.

  From her corner of the table, Paige sighed. “I have to go,” she said, sounding disappointed.

  “Too bad,” Ruby said. “The fun is just about to get started.” She was holding a deck of cards. When Alex saw what kind of cards they were, his heart sank.

  “Tarot?” Aunt Helga asked.

  Ruby nodded.

  Aunt Helga promptly whipped out her own set. “Russian tarot,” she said, slapping them on the table. A clear challenge.

  The two women eyed each other. The cold war was nothing next to the look in the two women’s eyes.

  Alex glanced over at Paige. She looked pained, as if the very last thing she wanted to do in the world was leave.

  “Let me know if you get any phone calls, texts, or reactions to our, er, undercover assignment this morning,” he said to her, in as low a voice as possible.

  “You mean kiss?” his grandmother asked.

  “What kiss?” Sherry asked, spilling the coffee she was serving.

  Hope smiled her pirate smile. Paige turned on her heel and fled.

  “What kiss?” Sherry repeated, shooting daggers at him.

  Hope stepped in. “A very convincing fake one. Charlene McBride dropped by unannounced. I’ll fill you all in later.”

  “How about we let the tarot cards tell us how everything is playing out?” Ruby asked. “You use yours. I use mine. In a month, we will meet here to see who was right.”

  Aunt Helga nodded once. “Deal.”

  Dan, Sam, and Johnny Amador gathered around him. Johnny patted him on the back, as if he was commiserating.

  “How should we phrase what we want to know?” Ruby asked.

  For some reason, everyone turned to Hope.

  “How about . . . What will be the most surprising things to happen to Agent Hooke in one month?”

  Ruby nodded. “All right. But he has to ask it.”

  Sherry looked ticked off at him. Ruby was looking at the Russian tarot cards as if they were insulting her. His grandmother and aunt looked interested in the challenge only. Only Hope and Rosa looked like they were enjoying themselves.

  “This is always fun,” Dan Amador said, pulling up a chair.

  “As long as it’s not me, it is,” his brother Sam added.

  Johnny Amador leaned in and slapped him on the back. “The three of them smell fear and resistance, and they feed off of it. Pretend you’re into it and it will be over sooner.”

  “It will. And when they’re done, there’s something I want to talk to you about, something one of my crewmen saw,” Dan said, leaning in so the women couldn’t hear.

  Now that really made Alex impatient. The moment he tried to get up, so he could get away from the table and motion Dan over to talk to him, his great-aunt Hilda grabbed his wrist, while Ruby glowered at Dan, asking him, “What did you say to him? Why is he trying to leave?”

  Alex settled back down and swallowed a heavy sigh. It would have to wait.

  The door jingled then, and he looked up to see Boyd and Hess. Crap. They took in the scene. “What you up to there, Alex?” Hess asked, wearing a grin.

  “Shh. He was about to ask his question.”

  Boyd and Hess joined the crowd. “Ask your question. We’re all waiting.”

  Alex bit back a groan, took a breath, and asked, “What are the most surprising things that will happen to me in the next month?”

  Chapter 9

  Paige rushed out, her brain thinking up ways to explain the pretend-kiss to Grandma Sherry and company in a manner that would close the subject for good, when she almost ran smack into Agents Boyd and Hess. They were early. Alex would love that as much as he’d loved seeing Hope this morning. They exchanged a few words before the two men entered the café.

  Paige slowed down. She still had forty-five minutes, and the lab testing facility was only fifteen minutes away.

  “Paige! Wait up!” she heard behind her. When she looked back Marissa, Cassie, and Holly were waving for her to stop.

  “You look like you’re in a rush, so we’ll make it quick,” Marissa was quick to say.

  “Oh. It’s okay. I have a few minutes. I just wanted to—be early for my appointment.” What she’d wanted was to get the heck out of Grandma Sherry’s line of vision.

  “Well, we wanted to talk to you, because we know how great you were at fund-raising events for the PTA over at your kids’ old school, and how you ran other fund-raisers, too, and we were wondering if you’d be willing to help us out,” Cassie began.

  “We’ve got so much going on,” Holly explained. “Our PTA is trying to raise money for new technology for classrooms, the PTA at the school where Marissa teaches is just getting organized and they’d love ideas, our chamber of commerce is behind on planning for the town’s Christmas Festival, and Cassie here runs the Open Town event you and the kids came to in April.”

  Paige began to nod, to agree, when two things hit her in quick succession. One, they were asking her to be a part of the community in a very big way, and she hadn’t had time to think that far ahead. Two, she’d like very much to be involved in all those things. Especially because it would mean working with the women standing in front of her. She’d always liked all three of them. Marissa and Cassie she’d known since they were children. She and Marissa had always commiserated on being granddaughters to Rosa and Sherry. Holly she’d met five years before, and they’d always gotten along great. Holly was Ruby’s granddaughter, so friendship had practically been built-in.

  “I remember Riley loved the ghost tour that night,” Marissa added with a smile. “She couldn’t stop asking questions about the Ghostly Tenants of Spinning Hills.”

  Ghostly Tenants of Spinning Hills. There it was again . . . except the memory she hadn’t been able to grab the other day floated to her then, from somewhere in the back of her brain.

  The night of Spinning Hills’ Spring Open Town Event, Riley had been talking nonstop about Grandma Sherry’s ghost tour.

  Glenn had been sullen and distracted when she and the kids had gotten home, but the ghost tour chatter had caught his attention and animated him. Hidden Bend had its own share of ghost stories, and Glenn had always been entertained by them. He’d even smiled and asked Paige to tell him all about the ghostly tenants. Riley had piped up and said Grandma Sherry had a notebook about it that she kept in a drawer next to the cash register . . .

  Paige’s heart started thumping. Could Glenn have remembered the conversation, and then looked for the notebook that night, to hide the laboratory journal he’d stolen in one the haunted sp
ots or houses when he learned the FBI was closing in? It was a long shot. Why would he choose a haunted spot? And he had parked at the café, but how could he have gotten in?

  Grandma Sherry sometimes kept the notebook at her house, though. What if he had taken it that Sunday while they were there?

  She gave her head a quick shake. The whole idea seemed dumb and far-fetched. And Cassie, Holly, and Marissa were still looking at her expectantly. “Oh, gosh, I’m so grateful you’re thinking of me, and I love the idea of working with all of you, but can I get back to you on it really soon? I want to say yes, but then I think of the kids and I realize I have to settle down and figure a few things out first.”

  Holly gave her a quick hug. “Don’t be sorry! That makes perfect sense. Of course you need to settle down.”

  “Oh! Settling down, right.” Cassie’s eyes brightened. “That reminds me, the house right behind Sherry’s is for sale! 242 Paper Trail. Sam just finished it. It’s a three-bed, two-bath, two-thousand-square-foot brick and stone bungalow with an awesome basement and attic.” She paused and looked stricken. “Not that I’m trying to sell it to you and make a commission off you right now at this moment. I’d definitely waive my commission for an old friend, especially if you help out with the Open Town.” She paled even more. “Not that you need me to waive my commission.”

  Paige bit her lip. “I get it, Cassie. Don’t worry.” Wanting to make her old friend feel better, she added, “But Paper Trail is the last street anyone named Paige would choose to live on. Besides, the words paper trail will forever conjure up memories of federal investigations for me.” That broke the tension, and the three women followed Paige’s lead and laughed, too.

  Marissa came in for a bone-crushing hug. “Anyway, we just wanted to run it all by you and let you know how much we’d love to have you join us, but we know you need time to think.”

  “I’ll get back to you soon. I promise.” Paige smiled, feeling warm and fuzzy inside. It was the first time she’d chosen to have a sense of humor about her situation, and the first time she’d entertained a thought of where she’d start over.

  The three women walked away, while Paige stayed rooted to the spot. Too many thoughts, ideas, and new feelings were doing laps in her head and heart, and there was no time to examine them all. The most important thought at that moment was that she had to check on the Ghostly Tenants of Spinning Hills notebook. The idea might seem dumb, but Glenn had been desperate.

  Another idea came to her. She walked back to the café. Everyone was gathered around Alex’s table and she couldn’t see him. Thank God.

  “Grandma!” she called out softly.

  Grandma Sherry looked up and frowned. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

  “Yes! And I’ll get there faster if I borrow your car.”

  “It’s at home.”

  “I know, but your house is two minutes away. My car is a ten-minute walk away.”

  Grandma Sherry shrugged. “Sure. You know where I keep my keys.”

  Yes, yes, she did, Paige rushed over to the cash register and surreptitiously searched the drawer where the women kept five notebooks and a calendar. There was the notebook for jotting down odd happenings they observed, in case anyone ever needed information; another was for new recipes they wanted to try out; the pink-and-white polka-dot one was an agenda where they wrote down townspeople’s important dates, like birthdays, anniversaries, and graduations; the red one was for marketing and business ideas . . . and the black-and-white composition notebook was for the Ghostly Tenants of Spinning Hills ghost tour.

  It wasn’t there.

  Before anyone could tell she was taking too long, Paige shut that drawer, opened the one with Grandma Sherry’s keys, and then left, thinking hard and fast along the way.

  Her grandmother was a creature of habit, and Paige had only ever seen her keep notebooks in two places: the drawer where she’d just looked and her desk hutch at home.

  She checked there next, but the notebook wasn’t there.

  There was no way to ask about the notebook without arousing suspicion or making them aware that the notebook was missing—if it was, indeed, missing. The three women would take the information straight to Alex Hooke. If Alex thought it was a viable idea and they conducted a search of haunted houses that turned up nothing and only delayed the investigation, would it make him go back to being difficult and menacing? Maybe. Maybe not. Probably she was overthinking it. But right now, he was trying to be understanding of her situation, and she didn’t want to risk that.

  On her way to the laboratory, she came up with a plan to cover all her bases. A quick phone call was first on the list, even though the thought behind it was far-fetched. “Beatrice?” she asked, when her old housekeeper picked up.

  The woman sounded surprised to hear her voice. Paige knew she’d cooperated with the investigators, but she couldn’t hold it against her. Beatrice had already told her they’d given her little choice. They chatted politely a bit, until Paige saw an opening. “Beatrice—do you remember ever seeing a black-and-white composition notebook with the words Ghostly Tenants of Spinning Hills written on the front?”

  Beatrice hesitated. “I remember a notebook just like that with the word ghost written on top, but I can’t remember the exact words.”

  Paige’s heart sped up. She hadn’t really thought this would lead anywhere. Could it be . . . ? “Where?”

  “In one of those plastic drawers in the playroom closet, where you have me keep Riley’s drawings.”

  “Do you remember when you first or last saw it?”

  There was silence for a moment. “Three months ago, maybe?” She sighed. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure.”

  Three months ago didn’t sound right. But Beatrice wasn’t sure. Would the FBI have taken notice of a book about ghost stories in a child’s playroom? Probably not.

  “That’s okay. Thank you! I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch and now I’m calling to ask you something . . .” They chatted some more, but Paige’s mind remained busy. By the time she’d hung up, she had a plan.

  She’d drive over to her old house after her drug test, look for the notebook, and pick up some belongings she’d left behind. Glenn had said he and his parents were taking the kids to the zoo at three, and she’d rather go to their old house when there was less of a chance of running into Glenn or his parents, who lived nearby.

  It was still her house, in any case, but she wanted to get in and out fast. If she found the notebook there—well, she’d cross that bridge if she came to it.

  If she didn’t find it, tomorrow she’d insist on cleaning Grandma Sherry’s house, as a way to say thank you, which she had been known to do when she was younger, and she’d look for the notebook while she cleaned. If she found it somewhere in the house, she could rule out that it had somehow been in Glenn’s hands, and she could officially call the whole theory a dead-end.

  * * *

  Six cards had been drawn; three Russian, and three gypsy. Alex only half-listened to Ruby as she gave her interpretation. Aunt Helga had been quick and to the point in her reading. Grandma Hilda always accused her of making it all up as she went along. “Three of hammer and sickle. You take blow to the head. The Hierophant. Hidden inner knowledge lead to truth you seek. Lovers card mean you choose to join two realities . . . or lose love.”

  But Ruby was taking her time and wringing as much drama out of hers as she could. Her cards were also much more ornate—and much more complicated. Something about an upright Empress in a moon, meaning to shed old skin—opportunities to be warm, nurturing, and caring. He nearly scoffed, but Hope, Jerome, and Boyd all beat him to it. The next one he could get on board with. Scales of justice and the sun. According to Ruby, it was the Illuminated Judgment card, meaning he’d have the opportunity to choose the greater good in a judgment call. The last card had Ruby gasping and raising her hand to her lips. It also made Hope too happy for comfort. “A near-death experience that could lead to either a per
manent state or rebirth.”

  His aunt frowned. “Reversed Hangman with seven swords? Where you get this card? This all fake.” She shot her arm out and swept her hand at the deck, angrily and dismissively.

  Ruby directed a narrowed, steely-eyed look his aunt’s way. “My great-great-great-aunt Tilda designed these cards.” She took her time tearing her eyes away to look at Alex and pat his hand. “You’re big and strong—I’m sure it won’t be permanent.”

  Hope got up. “Well, this is my interpretation of all six. Use your judgment and inner knowledge to stay away from caring and nurturing lovers or the empress will deliver a blow to the head that could lead to a permanent state of death. Capiche?”

  “Capiche,” Alex muttered, before motioning Dan over to a separate table to question him about what his crew member saw.

  * * *

  Paige parked Grandma Sherry’s yellow Beetle Bug at the end of a dead-end street no one ever frequented. The five-acre lot behind it hadn’t yet been sold. The ten-acre lot to her left was hers and Glenn’s. The preserve led to the hill that led to the pool in the back of their house.

  The one thing she hadn’t counted on was rain.

  She fished for her keys, got out, and made her way through the trees and up the hill. Even with an umbrella, she was drenched by the time she got in.

  Her first stop was the playroom. Her pulse sped up as she made her way to the closet and opened the plastic drawers. And there it was. A black-and-white composition book. Only it didn’t say Ghostly Tenants of Spinning Hills. It said Ghosts of Hidden Bend, in Riley’s seven-year-old hand. She opened it. There was nothing written on the pages. Something tender ached inside. It was so like Riley. To get all excited about something, talk nonstop about it, make plans . . . and then forget and move on the next obsession.

  Paige folded herself into one of their little chairs. Tears blurred her vision. So much she wanted to teach her kids. Countless hours she’d sat there, coloring with them, talking to them, teaching them their colors and numbers and letters.