by Maria Geraci
Would Tom be upset that she’d gone over his head? Probably. But that wasn’t her problem. After all, he was the one who suggested (rather sarcastically) that she go to Steve Pappas in the first place, so she was just taking his advice. The fact that she was going through his wife would hopefully work in Allie’s favor.
And if Allie was being honest, there was a tiny part of her that would love to see the look on Tom’s face when he found out his precious schedule was being turned over in favor of her story.
Allie felt the bed vibrate. Was that an earthquake? Impossible. This was Florida. Hurricanes, yes. Earthquakes, no. She opened her eyes to see her niece staring down at her.
“Wake up, Aunt Allie. Mom says she’s supposed to take you to get your car this morning.” Claire sprang off the mattress with all the enthusiasm that only a sixteen-year-old could muster. “Are you staying till Friday? Because if you are then you can go to the football game and watch me cheer. I’m co-captain this year.”
Allie blinked away the sleep in her eyes. Dear God. Her last visit had been Fourth of July weekend. Only three months and Claire had grown at least two inches. And there were now boobs. Claire Bear had boobs!
“Who is this evil Victoria’s Secret model interrupting my beauty sleep?”
Claire glanced down at her chest with a mixture of awe and pride. “I know! It’s like they just grew overnight!”
“Definitely a gift from your mother’s side,” Allie muttered. She took a longer look at her niece. Claire wore a tank top and a tiny denim skirt that was way too short for anyone other than a toddler. But then, Claire Bear was still a little girl. At least, she was in Allie’s mind. She’d given her niece the nickname Claire Bear after Allie had babysat her one weekend and Claire had insisted on watching her Monsters, Inc. DVD non-stop.
Allie got out of bed and shuffled her way to the bathroom but the door was locked.
“Cameron’s in there. The little shit takes all morning to get ready. I think he has a GIRLFRIEND,” Claire said loud enough for Cameron to hear through the door.
“Little stinker,” Allie said, automatically correcting Claire’s use of profanity. Buela had drilled it into Allie that young ladies of good breeding simply did not use four letter words (despite the fact that an occasional caramba had been heard from Buela’s lips). So Allie had come up with appropriate alternatives, like Captain Crunch.
She’d seen the look of amusement on Tom’s face when she’d uttered the expression last night. Maybe he thought she was weird. Or maybe he’d remembered her using it before. Whatever. It didn’t matter to her what Tom Donalan thought.
Mimi appeared in the hallway looking like a general ready to lead the troops into battle. She pointed to Claire’s little denim skirt. “You’re not wearing that outfit to school.”
“But there isn’t time to change.”
“Then make time.”
“You don’t think this skirt is too short, do you, Aunt Allie?” Claire looked at Allie like she was Obi-Wan Kenobi and the fate of the galaxy rested on her shoulders.
She hated to play the adult card, but in this case, Allie had to agree with Mimi. “Kiddo, I haven’t had my coffee yet, so, er, please, just listen to your mom.”
“Fine!” Claire stomped off to her bedroom.
Yikes. It looked like Claire Bear had gotten hormones along with those boobs. This new parent-teenage dynamic hadn’t been in play three months ago. Did things really change that quickly? Allie now understood why Mimi’s hair was beginning to gray.
Mimi handed Allie a mug of steaming hot coffee, which Allie gratefully took. “Claire’s right about the bathroom. You’ll never get in there. Feel free to use mine. But you only have about five minutes.”
Allie took a big swig of the java and moaned in ecstasy.
“It’s almost seven-thirty,” Mimi continued. “And we have lots to do. We need to drop the kids off school, swing by The Bistro, pick up Kitty, and then head to the senior center to get your car.”
“You forgot establish world peace.” Allie took another sip of the coffee. “Wait. You already talked to Kitty?”
“Yeah, and she talked to Steve. Unfortunately, Steve says that although it’s his company, this is Tom Donalan’s project and he’s the guy in charge. Says he was really lucky to get a guy with Tom’s experience to come work for him, so he’s not going to undermine him on this. Which means the only person who can stop this demolition is Tom himself.”
“Flippity Flop.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Mimi said. “Sorry.”
“Thanks anyway for trying.” Allie finished her coffee, but it didn’t taste nearly as good as it had a few seconds ago.
She’d known the thing with Steve Pappas wasn’t a done deal, but she’d thought there was a good chance he’d stop the demolition. At least for a day. Especially since it had been his wife making the request on her behalf. Begrudgingly, she had to admire that Steve had enough respect for Tom to not interfere with his business decisions. She just wasn’t sure if that made Steve a good boss or Tom a really valuable employee.
“Did you say Kitty’s meeting us at The Bistro?”
“She’s going to drive out with us to the senior center to help move your car. Since you can’t drive it yourself.”
That last part hadn’t been said with any rancor, but Allie still cringed at the reminder that her license was suspended. She mentally put that on her list of things to care of today. Right after she emailed Emma to let her know the ghost story probably wasn’t going to pan out.
Allie searched her mind for some way around this demolition thing, but she came up blank. Maybe the story could still be salvaged, but she’d have to be satisfied with interviews and second hand accounts (if she could find anyone who’d actually seen this ghost, of course). Because there was no way she was going to debase herself and ask Tom Donalan for yet a third time to help her out. Nope. Not happening. She’d rather swallow nails.
She quickly got dressed and out to the garage to find Mimi and the kids waiting for her. How had she overslept this morning of all important mornings? She couldn’t believe how much Mimi had accomplished, and it was only seven-thirty. The army had nothing over motherhood.
Claire was now wearing a pair of extremely tight jeans but it was still better than the little skirt. Thank God Cameron was still the same pudgy cutie pie with the freckles and wire rimmed glasses he was a few months ago. He was wearing braces now, but it was the only thing different about him.
Allie ruffled the top of his curly head.
“Why are you here?” he asked her.
Claire punched her brother in the shoulder. “That’s so rude, you little dweeb. Aunt Allie doesn’t need a reason to come visit.”
“Did you see that? Mom! She hit me.”
“Oh my God. I barely touched you!”
Mimi seemed completely unfazed by their screeching. “Do you want to drive to school or not?” she asked Claire.
Claire instantly appeared contrite. “Yes, please.”
Mimi handed her the keys. “Then behave.”
Allie climbed into the minivan’s back seat. “Claire’s driving?”
“I just got my license last week,” Claire said proudly.
Allie mentally winced at the irony that was her life. Her niece, who just yesterday (it seemed) was wearing pigtails and watching Sesame Street could legally drive and had better boobs than her.
Coffee. She needed more coffee.
Mimi strapped herself in the front passenger seat and watched Claire with an eagle eye as she went through the ritual of readjusting the car’s mirrors.
Cameron turned to face Allie. “Is Dad gonna throw you in jail?”
Mimi smiled apologetically. “He wanted to know why your car wasn’t here so I, um, explained your situation.”
Allie grinned at her nephew. “Yeah, I’m in trouble, big guy. Think I can throw myself on my brother’s mercy?”
Cameron thought this over a second. “Did you ever
call him a dweeb when you were growing up?”
Claire eyed Cameron through the rearview mirror. “Shut up or I’ll make you sit in front with me.”
Cameron’s face visibly paled.
“That’s enough,” Mimi warned.
Claire backed out of the driveway and they took off down the road. Allie gripped the door knob to keep from getting jostled in her seat. She now understood Cameron’s reaction to Claire’s threat. But everyone had been a novice driver at one point, right? Claire just needed more practice.
Cameron yakked all the way to his middle school, which was only a five minute drive. Allie leaned over and forced him to kiss her goodbye on the cheek, but she didn’t have to push too hard. Apparently, eleven was still a sweet age for pre-adolescent boys. She caught a whiff of freshly brushed teeth, Clearasil and…Old Spice cologne. Claire was right. Cameron had a girlfriend. Scratch the pre-adolescent part. Why was everyone in such a hurry to grow up?
Claire drove on to the high school and parked (rather badly) into a space in the second row of the student section. Allie hadn’t been back to Whispering Bay High in ages. There were kids everywhere in the parking lot, rushing to get to class before the first bell. The hair was different and the clothes were definitely different (had Allie ever dressed this hoochie in high school?), but the rest was the same. Bright young faces and pimply chins and lots of laughter and rough-housing.
A vision of Tom and her eating lunch while sitting on the hood of his red Crown Victoria popped into her head. It was the way they’d spent almost every lunch period their senior year.
Claire waved goodbye and disappeared among a gaggle of giggling girls, shaking Allie out of her reverie.
“Okay, first stop, The Bistro,” Mimi said, back in control of the wheel.
The nice thing about growing up in a small town was that things rarely changed. Yes, an occasional strip mall might pop up, or a new seafood joint might give the few restaurants in town some competition, but somehow, Whispering Bay had managed to avoid the fate of most north Florida beach towns. With no condos or vacation resorts to attract tourists, it was a sleepy hollow of ten thousand residents, a middle class bedroom community comprised of almost equal parts young families and retirees.
The downside to small town living meant no Starbucks. But that was fine with Allie because Whispering Bay had something better.
The Bistro by the Beach, owned by Frida Hampton, another Bunco pal of Mimi’s, was a cute little coffee house located just a few miles from the senior center and a major meeting place for the town’s citizens. Brightly colored murals depicting ocean life (painted by Frida’s husband, Ed, a local artist) covered the walls. Ed’s studio was located upstairs and in the last few years he’d become something of a local sensation, prompting tourists to come not just for the caffeine, but the artwork, as well. The coffee was strong, the muffins were fresh, and it had a first rate view of the water. Deputy Rusty was there, along with a dozen or so regulars and the usual handful of tourists from nearby Seaside.
Rusty smirked at Allie in acknowledgement, then gave Mimi a deferential nod. Although cerebrally Allie knew that Zeke was Whispering Bay’s Chief of Police, she couldn’t help the sudden wave of pride that washed over her. If you’d told her twenty years ago, when she was ten and Zeke was sixteen, that her pot smoking, juvenile delinquent brother would one day be The Law in this town she would have spit up her Fruit Loops from laughing so hard.
Kitty Burke Pappas met them by the counter. Her brown hair was pulled back in a low ponytail and her makeup was impeccable. She wore an apricot sheath dress that fit her perfectly and complimented her lightly freckled skin. She wasn’t a great beauty, but there was something about the way she carried herself that made Allie feel like a total slouch next to her. She’d wish she’d had more than five minutes to pull herself together this morning.
Allie order the biggest café latte on the menu. “Thanks for talking to your husband for me. Even though it didn’t work out, I really appreciate it.”
“I can’t believe Steve is being so stubborn.” Kitty shook her head. “Men,” she said in a way that made Allie smile. “But we’re not done yet. I want you to meet some friends of mine that might be able to help.” She led Allie to a table in the back of the restaurant where four seniors were in the middle of a lively discussion. Allie immediately recognized one of the women as Buela’s old friend, Viola Pantini.
There were three types of senior citizens living in Florida. There were the natives, those born and bred Floridians who’d lived here all their lives. The Snow Birds who came from up north for the winter to avoid the cold. And the Retirees, those who decided to live out their golden years in the Sunshine state.
Viola was a native. Kitty reached out and placed a hand on the older lady’s arm in a gesture of affection. “Allie, I’d like you to meet the executive board of the Gray Flamingos.”
“Executive flock,” corrected a woman wearing a visor with a Tampa Bay Rays logo. Her accent, however, hinted at a previous Boston Red Sox affiliation. Definitely not a native.
Viola stood and hugged Allie. “Sweetie! I haven’t seen you in ages. You look fabulous! How’s the writing going?” She turned to the other members of the table and went through a swift round of introductions. “Allie was Barbara Alvarez’s granddaughter. She’s the one who wrote the Perky the Duck article.”
The table erupted in murmurs of appreciation.
“I love that article,” said the woman with the Rays visor, whose name was Betty. “How is Perky, anyway?”
Allie plastered the well-worn smile she used whenever Perky came up in a conversation. “Thank you, and Perky is still alive and well and living at the Tallahassee Junior Museum.”
Betty nodded. “Good to hear.” She looked Allie up and down. “So, you’re the chief’s sister, huh?” She let out a predatory growl. “Good looking man, if you ask me.”
Okay, that was definitely weird.
“Uh, yep, Zeke’s my older brother.” Not sure what else to say, Allie turned to an attractive older man who’d been introduced as Gus Pappas. “Any relation to Steve Pappas?”
“My nephew. But I don’t hold much influence over his business decisions. If Kitty here can’t convince him to let you investigate that old building, then no one can.”
“Yes, apparently the whole thing is up to his grumpy foreman,” Allie said.
Gus smiled sympathetically. “We heard you got kicked out of the senior center last night.”
“What? How did you hear that?”
“Got one of those police scanners,” said the last member of the table, a gentleman with an impressive set of eyebrows who’d been introduced as Roger Van Cleave. “Also heard how your license was suspended.” He tsked. “Same thing happened to my grandniece. Of course, she’s barely eighteen and doesn’t know any better.”
Allie smiled weakly.
“Kitty called me this morning and said you had an urgent situation,” Viola said, her blue eyes curious. “So I called an emergency meeting of the flock.”
Allie reached into her tote and pulled out a copy of the email from Concerned Citizen, then passed it around the table. “Do any of you know who might have written this?”
All four seniors began talking at once.
“A ghost?” Betty said. “That’s why you broke into the building?”
“Who’s this Concerned Citizen?” Gus asked.
“That’s the million dollar question,” Allie said.
Viola frowned. “You really have no idea who wrote this?”
“I was kind of hoping one of you would know.”
“If it had been someone from our group, I’m sure the rest of us would have heard about it,” Viola said. “There’s about fifty of us active Flamingoes, but honestly, I just don’t see any of us writing this anonymously.”
Roger glanced around the restaurant. “Who else have you shown this to?” he asked in a hushed voice.
“Just the four of you, and my sister-i
n-law Mimi. And Rusty Newton and Tom Donalan, who’s in charge of the building.” Allie used her fingers to make air quotation marks on that last part.
“It’s imperative that you don’t show this to anyone else,” Roger warned.
“What do you care who she shows this to?” Gus asked Roger.
“Roger’s right,” Betty said. “We shouldn’t show this to anyone. This ghost is probably trying to warn us and we don’t want to start a panic in town.”
“What kind of panic?” Allie asked.
Betty looked at her as if she were an idiot. “Ever hear of the end of the world?”
Viola and Gus moaned.
“Betty, enough with the end of the world stuff,” Gus said.
“Just because the Aztec calendar thing didn’t pan out doesn’t mean the world isn’t coming to an end soon. If there’s a ghost haunting the senior center then it’s someone we all knew. Someone who’s trying to come back from the dead to tell us something. Now, I ask you, what’s so important to come back to warn people about except the end of the world? All I can say, is that if the apocalypse is around the corner then I need to know pronto.”
“Betty Jean Collins, you already have a garage full of generators and enough bottled water for the entire town! What more do you need?” Viola asked.
“That was in preparation for this year’s hurricane season. Which didn’t go the way those forecasters thought it would. We barely got enough rainfall this past summer, and hardly any high winds. Hell, my electricity didn’t even go out once.”
“You sound disappointed we didn’t have a major disaster,” Gus said.
“Of course I’m not disappointed,” Betty grumbled. “But a dozen generators and a few hundred cases of bottled water aren’t going to be nearly enough if the apocalypse is coming. Don’t want to get caught with my pants down.”
“Yeah, nobody wants to see that,” Roger muttered.
Allie tried to hide her smile. She should probably keep her mouth shut, but she couldn’t help myself. “Um, if the world is going to end, then what does it matter?”
