Stardust on the Sea

by Tawdra Kandle

  She smiled. “You say it so matter-of-factly. Like I’m normal or something.”

  I reached out and touched her hand, surprising myself. It wasn’t my style to coddle recruits or trainees, but something about this girl struck me.

  “Believe me, Julia, in my world, you are normal. And more than that, you’re special. What you can do is wonderful, and we can help you use it to help other people. To do good.”

  Before she could answer, Amelia interrupted. “We’ve recently discovered that Julia has another talent, too. She’s a necroloquitar.”

  I quirked a brow. “Are you certain?” If this were true...my mind raced. Maybe she could help Lucas and me figure out what was going on at the Star of the Sea.

  “Yes.” Amelia heaved out a sigh. “I’ve experienced what she can do.” She dropped her voice even lower. “She spoke to my mother.”

  If my mouth dropped open, I could hardly be blamed. Amelia had never struck me as someone with even the slightest fanciful bone in her body. What we did, the people she found for us—she considered that science, just the evolution of the human brain. I couldn’t imagine her sitting in a séance, talking to someone she couldn’t see.

  “I know. I was skeptical. But she has no reason to lie to me—not with her other abilities verified—and what my mother told her, no one else in the world could have known.”

  The waitress returned just then with our meals, and we ate in silence for a few moments.

  “Julia, Carruthers is prepared to offer you a position. You’ll have several months of training, of course. We’ll work out the details of getting you to Florida, to our central facility, next week after I get back to work.” The idea of returning home was not nearly as appealing now as it had been yesterday, and I stifled a sigh. “But I wondered if meanwhile, you might be interested in a little...freelance work. Right here in Cape May. Call it research, if you will.”

  Julia smiled at me. “Sure. If half of what Amelia has said is true, I’m more than ready to start.” She spread her hands out in front of her. “It’s not like I have anything to lose.”

  I smiled at her again. “Great. Give me your phone number, and I’ll be in touch.” I turned to Amelia. “And now I have a few questions for you. You’ve lived here your whole life, haven’t you?”

  When I stepped out of Henry’s a little over an hour after Lucas had dropped me off, I didn’t see his car anywhere. I slipped on my sunglasses against the midday glare and scanned the street.

  “Hey, pretty lady.”

  I jumped. “Why do you keep doing that?” I swatted at his shoulder.

  “Doing what?” Amusement filled his voice as he slipped his fingers between mine.

  “Sneaking up on me. No one has ever been able to...” I trailed off. That was opening a door to something I wasn’t willing to share yet.

  “You must’ve been hell to play hide n’ seek with, then.” He pulled my hand, leading me along the concrete walkway that divided the busy road from the crowded beach.

  “Where are we going?” I asked. “And where’s the car?”

  “I couldn’t get a spot close to the restaurant, so it’s down the street a little. But I found a place to get ice cream that looks good. I thought we could grab a couple of cones.”

  “I just had lunch,” I protested, even though the idea of ice cream did sound good.

  “But I bet you didn’t have dessert. You’re not the type who eats dessert at a business lunch.”

  I sniffed. “Just how do you know what type I am? You haven’t even known me a full twenty-four hours.”

  “True,” Lucas agreed. “But somehow I think I get you. I know what makes you tick.” He tapped the side of my head. “Besides, this is vacation, right? So dessert is practically required.”

  I grumbled, but I let him lead me down to the stand, where I ordered a double scoop of chocolate peanut butter on a sugar cone.

  “So how was your lunch?” Lucas swiped his tongue around the edge of his mint chocolate chip cone, and my knees grew a little weak. It was somehow very sensual, watching him devour that ice cream. I stared, fascinated, until he stopped and tilted his head, looking at me in question.

  “What? Oh. Lunch. Yes, it was good. Actually, it was very good. My recruit...” I lowered my voice and slid closer to him on the bench we shared. “I think she could help us. Her ability might be what we need.”

  “Ability? What kind of ability?”

  I remembered a little too late that I hadn’t told Lucas everything about my line of work. I hesitated only a few beats before I plunged forward.

  “She’s telekinetic, for one thing. She can move stuff with just her mind. Plus, and this I didn’t know until today, she’s a necroloquitar. She talks to the dead.”

  Lucas’s surprise was palpable. He stared at me for a minute, and I watched a drop of ice cream almost slide down to his hand before he snapped back to attention and caught it with his tongue.

  “Are you serious?”

  I nodded. “Yes. I thought maybe she could come over to the Star and see if there was anyone who would talk to her. You know—dead people.”

  “Okay.” Lucas shifted and almost absently laid his arm behind me, dangling his hand just above my breast. My heart skittered, and I took a deep breath.

  “Did you get any information?” I cleared my throat, trying to ignore the quivering in my stomach that had nothing to do with the ice cream.

  “A little. I went to this museum, a small one run by some history group. There was an older lady who told me about the Star and Miss Jane’s family.”

  “Interesting. What did she say?” I circumvented the end of my scoop to bite the cone, always my favorite part.

  “Oh, just that there’s been talk about it being haunted. Someone wrote an article about it, and I guess when one of the paranormal television shows came here, they tried to get Miss Jane to let them investigate. She refused.” He cocked his head. “What are you doing? You’re going to lose that scoop.”

  I licked the other side and took another bite. “I like the cone.”

  Lucas unfolded a napkin and wiped my face. “You’re a mess.” He dabbed at my lip and then followed up with a soft kiss on the side of my mouth. “But you taste good.” He leaned closer, bringing the kiss square on my lips and skimming his tongue over my skin. “Yum.”

  I shivered. “You smell minty.”

  He grinned. “I know. Minty fresh, right?” He dropped one more light kiss on my cheek before leaning back.

  I struggled to find my train of thought. “The woman I met for lunch—Amelia—she’s a teacher at the high school, and she’s lived here always. Her mother had told her stories about the Livingstons—Miss Jane’s family. They built the main part of the house in the early 1800s, maybe around 1820. It’s not the oldest house in Cape May by any means, but it’s one of the older ones.”

  Lucas twisted his mouth. “I thought it was Victorian, which would be the later nineteenth century, not that early.”

  “The family kept adding on, I guess. Miss Jane told me that, and so did Amelia. The biggest part of the building-on happened around 1880, so that would make sense, that it would have more of a gingerbread feel.”

  “So that’s the house. What about the family? Any horrible secrets? Unexplained deaths?”

  “Amelia says her mother used to tell a story about one of Jane’s great aunts who apparently had an unfortunate love affair that ended in some kind of tragedy. Amelia couldn’t remember her name or how exactly she died. But that’s all. She did say Jane gets mad any time someone brings up the Star being haunted.”

  Lucas finished off his cone and wiped his hands. “So where does that leave us? At the mercy of the necro—what did you call her?”

  “Necroloquitar. Possibly. I told her I’d call her tomorrow and set something up. I was thinking maybe we could see what happened tonight, and maybe even talk to George.”

  He balled up our napkins and aimed for the nearby trashcan. “You think Georg
e is going to know something Jane doesn’t?”

  I shook my head. “Not necessarily, but I think George might be more willing to talk. Especially to me. We bonded during our three hour tour of Cape May yesterday.”

  Lucas laughed. “Good luck with that. Do you think you could take time out of sweet talking poor George to have dinner with me?”

  I sat back and looked at him with wide eyes. “Are you asking me on a date?”

  He grinned. “Yeah. That’s how I roll. Spook ‘em, grope ‘em, then romance them.” When I rolled my eyes, he squeezed my shoulder. “Seriously, Cathryn. I like you. I guess I should have asked you on a date before we had our...whatever that was between us this afternoon. But I was going to ask you to dinner tonight even before that. So what do you say?”

  I considered him, the laughing blue eyes, the dimple, the hand that felt so right and familiar in my own. Normal hardworking Cathryn wouldn’t have had time for someone like Lucas Reilly, but vacation Cathryn decided that he was just what she needed. I smiled and leaned up to kiss his cheek.

  “I say, why the hell not?”

  We decided on a later dinner, since the ice cream had put a serious dint in both of our appetites. Lucas returned to his room to do more research, and I went in search of George.

  He was in the garage area, which sat off to the rear of the property. Meticulously kept as the rest of the house, it matched the main building in both style and color. George sat on old leather stool, wiping down some sort of blade.

  “Hey, there,” he greeted me. “Not here to talk me into driving you back to the ferry, are you?”

  I shuddered. “No, thanks. If I were trying to go home early, I’d be making arrangements for the airport.” I leaned against the doorframe. “What are you doing there?”

  He lifted the rotary and the rag. “Jane hires local boys to do the yard work, says it’s good community relations. They do a decent job, but none of them ever thinks to clean the mower blades after. So, here I am. Gotta keep them clean if you want to keep them sharp.”

  I smiled; I could hear in both his voice and thoughts that he had affection for these neighborhood boys, even if he did have to do some of their dirty work.

  “So how is vacation so far?” George dropped the rag into a barrel and moved over to replace the blade into the mower.

  “I’m enjoying myself,” I answered, a little nonplussed to realize I was telling the truth. “Cape May is very peaceful. And of course the Star...” I spread my arms to encompass the whole thing. “It’s amazing.”

  He smiled with no little pride. “It’s the oldest inn continually owned by one family in Cape May, did you know that? The Livingstons have worked hard to keep it that way. Miss Jane never lets down the side.”

  I couldn’t have asked for a better segue. “I’m fascinated by the history of your family. When exactly was the house built?”

  “1818, easy to remember. That was the main house, wasn’t nearly as big. Each generation added on a little, and in 1878, the year of the big fire in Cape May, my great-great grandfather Charles made the biggest addition and redid the exterior, making it more one style than the mish-mash it had been. There are some pictures in the front parlor, if you want to see what it looked like before and after.”

  “And Livingstons have always lived here? When did it become a bed and breakfast?”

  George sat back and gazed at the ceiling as if there answers were there. “The family business had been lumber at first, then later, one of the Livingtons built a hotel that used to stand down the beach. Gone now, but in the heyday, it was the most popular destination on the Cape. It was Jane’s parents who decided to make this old place into an inn after they closed down the hotel. Some time in the 1950’s, that would have been.” He was lost in memories, his hand tapping against one denim-clad knee. “I remember there was a little fuss, among the family, you know, because this was the main home, but in the end, it all worked out well.”

  I smiled, seeing it all as George remembered it. There had been more than a little fuss, but he was right; in the end, the family had come to agreement.

  “I met someone today who told me there was an old story about one of your aunts,” I said. “Or maybe a great-aunt? Someone who had her heart broken?”

  George sighed. “Oh, Cecile. Yes, that was a sad story. It was our great-aunt, though she was closer to our parents’ age. My great-grandfather Edgar married for a second time late in life, to a woman younger than his own children.”

  “So you remember her, then?” I didn’t want to insult George by increasing his age, but it seemed if this great-aunt had been younger than his grandparents, he might have known her.

  “No, I never knew her. She died before I was born. But Jane does. She’s older than me, and she says she remembers her just a little—always laughing. Cecile died about a year before I was born.”

  “What happened? If you don’t mind me asking?” George didn’t seem to mind talking about his family, but I didn’t want to be too pushy either.

  He shrugged. “It wasn’t talked about much. My mother told my wife about her once. She got mixed up with someone her family didn’t like, someone they didn’t think was good enough for her, and they kept them apart. I guess she died of a broken heart.”

  “How sad,” I breathed. “How old was she?”

  George shook his head. “Not very. I don’t think she was twenty yet.” He stood and stretched his back. “All families have these kind of stories, I suppose. But listen. Don’t tell Miss Jane I was talking to you about Cecile. It upsets her, having anyone ask. I don’t know why, but maybe she was sort of Cecile’s pet, and it still makes her sad.”

  “I won’t say anything.” On impulse, I reached up and kissed his worn cheek. “Thanks, George. It’s a sad story, but at least she’s not forgotten. Are there any pictures of her in the house?”

  He shook his head. “No. I don’t think we have any of her. My grandfather was so heartbroken when she died, he couldn’t bear to see them. I thought there should be one in the room where you’re staying, but Jane says there’s none to be had.”

  I titled my head. “Why my room?”

  George smiled. “That was Cecile’s room.”

  An hour later, I was sitting shotgun in Lucas’s car as it sped along the Garden State Parkway. I wore shorts, a flowered tank top and flat sandals; when I’d told him I hadn’t packed anything dressy for a dinner out, he had only smiled.

  “This is vacation. I had something more casual in mind for our date. Shorts are perfect.”

  Now I slipped my sunglasses down my nose, checking to see if it were still bright enough to need them. Lucas wouldn’t tell me where we were going, and I surprised myself by carefully avoiding his mind. I didn’t want to spoil anything.

  He exited the Parkway at the turnoff for Ocean City. I raised my eyebrows. “I’ve heard of Atlantic City. What’s in Ocean City?”

  Lucas smirked. “It’s America’s Family Playground. A universe away from AC. Trust me.”

  We drove over a bridge and down blocks of homes that ranged from huge new structures to older ranchers and Cape Cod cottages. When we passed a large stucco house with a matching low wall, Lucas pointed at it.

  “That was where Princess Grace lived, when her family came to Ocean City.”

  “Really?” I craned my neck back to look.

  “Yup.” He made a quick turn, and we were closer to the ocean. I caught glimpses of the beach at the block breaks. A few minutes later, he pulled into a small space alongside the road.

  I looked around. “Where are we going?”

  Lucas came around the car and took my hand. “This way.” We turned the corner and the boardwalk came into view. At one end, I saw the chaotic lights of an amusement pier. People thronged the ramp as we made our way up.

  “Come on.” Lucas wrapped an arm around my shoulder to keep from losing me in the crowd. As he slipped through an open doorway, the most delicious smell swept over me, and suddenly I was rav
enous again.

  “Pizza?” I raised my voice over the jostle of people standing with us at the entry to the restaurant.

  “Yeah!” Lucas grinned, and that irresistible dimple popped back into view. “Best pizza in New Jersey—maybe anywhere!” He turned me around so that I was facing the open kitchen where several young men were tossing pizza dough in the air, spinning it and deftly catching it again.

  Lucas pulled me back against his chest, so that his chin rested on the top of my head. He wrapped his arms around me, and for just a moment, I wasn’t any different than the rest of the people in this crowded shore pizza place. I was a girl, there to eat and enjoy an evening with my boyfriend. No talents, no agenda, no family responsibilities weighing on me...

  “I used to do this,” Lucas whispered in my ear, his breath making me shiver. “Four summers during college. My grandparents had a place down here, and I lived there, spun dough at night.”

  I thought about my own college days, working on a double major and recruiting for Carruthers. I had barely had summers off, let alone carefree days of hanging out on a beach. Suddenly I wanted that, wanted those memories. I wanted to turn in Lucas’s arms, kiss him senseless. I wanted to spend the night riding the amusements, eating junk food and thinking only about catching more sun the next day.

  “Hey, there’s a table open.” Lucas nudged me forward and we slipped into the booth. The spell was broken, but not forgotten.

  Three hours later, we drove back over the Cape May bridge onto the island. We had ridden home with the top down, cruising the back roads instead of the Parkway, as the wind whipped through my hair. My stomach was full of pizza, caramel corn and fudge. I had a bag full of saltwater taffy on my lap.

  We had ridden every ride on the amusement pier, played an intense game of mini-golf and walked the boards from end to end. I felt blissfully sleepy and very unlike the Cathryn Whitmore who had hit the shores of New Jersey only a day before.

  The streets were quiet as we turned toward the Star. Lucas squeezed the hand he’d been holding the whole way home and smiled at me.