by Anna Abner
So this was Rebecca Powell in her full glory. No wonder she made so much money in real estate. She was like a strike of lightning—bright and beautiful and impossible to take your eyes off of.
“Thanks,” was all he could think to say. “I’ll check the grill.” But Holden should have known Becca didn’t slack on anything. Wilson had twelve patties sizzling their way to a perfect medium-well on the grill and a mountain of greasy, salty fries cooling under the heat lamp. In other words, she had everything under control. He suspected, though he couldn’t prove it, that between taking orders and serving lunch she’d tidied the kitchen.
She brushed up against Holden’s elbow, her voice loud enough for only him to hear. “I hope you don’t mind.”
Something about her husky whisper undid him. It had him thinking about rumpled sheets and sweat and soft, soft skin.
Rebecca added, “I’ll pay back the 10 percent discount with my tips. These ladies and gentlemen are very generous. And you can’t hope to make back the money you lost without customers. And,” she smiled brightly, “I guarantee they’ll not only be back, but they’ll tell their buddies how much fun it was at Sparky’s today.”
The door chimed once and then again a second time. Shoulder to shoulder, they strolled into the dining room to greet their newest customers.
* * *
Becca’s assistant Derek stood inside Sparky’s front door, her dry cleaning in one hand and his cell phone in the other.
“Everything okay?” Rebecca asked, immediately imagining the worst. If her office building burst into flames and burned to ash, it really wouldn’t surprise her at this point.
“I’m here about the job.” Derek pointed to the Help Wanted sign in the window. Was he joking? He didn’t crack a smile, and she wasn’t sure.
“I’ll get you an application.” She reached for a form, wondering how far he’d take this little game.
“Just kidding.” He grinned at her. “How is everything going?”
“Good. How did you find me?”
They hadn’t spent more than a day apart in years. When they weren’t working at the office together, they were on the phone making to-do lists and updating plans. But in twenty-one days, Rebecca was leaving Derek behind, and he was starting a new job at Charley McGovern’s brokerage. Maybe it was a good sign that she hadn’t thought of him once today.
“Jessa told me you were spending your vacation with Mr. Clark. It wasn’t hard to track you down. So here I am. Checking on you.” He laid her clean and pressed pantsuits, blouses, and one cocktail dress, all still sheathed in plastic and smelling of chemicals, onto an empty corner of the lunch counter. “And I have good news.”
She could use some.
“Kent and Laurie accepted the offer. They signed the papers this morning. The Lane Street house is officially off the market and in escrow.”
Thank God. “One down, one to go. Have you heard from Maeve?” Maeve and her home on Havers Street were all that stood between Rebecca and a clean slate.
“No, but Jessa did. They had a long talk about how the water damage in the master bath is turning off prospective buyers.”
Good. She’d already tried to talk sense into Maeve, but the woman didn’t want to replace the tub’s hardware or lay new tile over the water-damaged linoleum. She’d promised to fix it when she got a solid offer, but she’d get more offers if she fixed it now.
“What did she say?” Rebecca asked.
“I don’t know. I wasn’t there,” Derek said.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here.” Though she still wasn’t sure if he was messing with her or not. “Are you hungry? We make a great veggie burger.”
“We?” He raised one eyebrow. “Since when do you own a stake in Sparky’s?”
Becca tucked her order pad into her borrowed apron and examined her dry cleaning. Yes, there it was, cleaned, pressed, and ready for Saturday’s Chamber of Commerce fundraising event. Some women had little black dresses. Rebecca had a little red dress. She couldn’t wait for Holden to see her in it.
“Things not going well?” she guessed, eyeing Derek up and down. He wasn’t usually such an ass.
“Things are great.” But his tone revealed his lie. “Smashing. How are things with you?”
“I’m looking forward to May 1.”
Holden was right. She was such a phony.
“Good.”
Holden edged into her periphery.
“Holden, this is Derek Walker. My assistant.”
“I just stopped by to say hello,” Derek said. He pressed a button on his phone, and then his text message, or whatever it was, was more important than anything else. “Keep up the good work. See you later.” He didn’t even look at her as he left.
A customer on the other end of the dining room whistled for service. Grateful for the distraction, Rebecca moved in that direction, but Holden restrained her with a hand to her elbow.
“Is he always like that?”
She shrugged. “He’s not happy that I’m moving. He’s losing his job.”
Most days Derek was funny and helpful and professional, but some days he elevated prissiness to new heights.
“How unhappy exactly?” Holden asked.
She sensed where this conversation was heading. “Stop it.”
“You didn’t touch him.”
Rebecca hadn’t even considered it. “I don’t have to. I know it’s not him.”
She patted Holden’s arm and got back to work, storing her dry cleaning in the office and then refilling customers’ drinks and bottomless seasoned fries.
From all the way across the noisy, crowded diner, she heard her cell phone blast “Breathe” by Faith Hill. She rushed to check caller ID before it went to voicemail.
It was Kristin. “Oh, crap,” she said, clicking the answer button. She’d forgotten until right then that she’d made a date with her best friend.
“I’m so sorry!” Becca greeted.
“Rebecca Powell, don’t you dare stand me up.”
She groaned into the phone. “I’m an awful person.”
“What is going on with you?” Kristin exclaimed. “First you blow off wine night, and now you leave your friend sitting at home waiting for your call?”
“A lot has been going on,” Becca admitted. “I’ve been really busy.”
“Bullshit. I called Jessa. She said you took the week off.”
“Yeah.” It wasn’t that she didn’t or couldn’t trust Kristin, but how did a person admit they were being possessed by a demon? And working at a strange guy’s diner while he figured out how to stop it?
She squeezed her eyes shut. “I met someone.”
“Rebecca, you stood me up for a guy?” Kristin admonished. “That’s even worse. Where are you?”
“Sparky’s diner.”
“I’m on my way.” She hung up before Becca could argue.
“Um.” She found Holden at the cash register making change. “My friend Kristin is coming by. I was supposed to meet her for coffee, but I forgot and now she’s pissed. Concerned,” she corrected. “I mean concerned.” Then before Holden could ask, she added, “She’s not a suspect.”
The customer passed Holden a tip, winked at Becca, and left them with a few minutes of privacy.
“I’m not accepting that,” Holden hissed. “I don’t care who it is. You will shake hands with every person on that list and anyone else I tell you to. In fact,” his gaze scanned the room, “I called your two psychics. They’ll be here for lunch. Now go and greet your guests.” His big blue eyes returned to her face. “All of them.”
Anastasia Jewel, psychic extraordinaire, showed up first, wearing an embroidered jacket and enough costume jewelry to choke a bull. She zeroed in on Rebecca, a big smile on her face.
“There you are!” Anastasia squealed, grabbing Becca’s hand to shake in both of hers. “Your aura is gorgeous. Have you been burning the incense I gave you?”
“Uh.” The stinky sticks were long gone, but
Rebecca didn’t want to hurt the woman’s feelings.
“Good.” Anastasia beamed. “Your friend said you wanted a palm reading?”
Becca gritted her teeth, her gaze searching for Holden, but he was lurking in the kitchen. Damn him. Facing Anastasia, Rebecca said, “Not right now, but thank you. Would you like something to eat?”
“No, no, no.” She released Becca’s hand. “But let’s make an appointment.” She pulled a leather-bound book the size of a Bible out of her purse and flipped pages. “How’s tomorrow? I can come to your office. I remember where it is.”
Rebecca smiled sweetly. “Seeing you has already lifted my spirits.” Phony, phony, phony. If only Holden could see her now. “I’ll call you if I need to see you again. Until then, enjoy some lunch. Everything is 10 percent off today.” She pushed a laminated menu into Anastasia’s hands. “I have to check on customers, but you can sit wherever you like.” She breezed away before the woman could argue and stayed busy until Ms. Jewel finally left.
Martin Dell, psychic number two, hung around the counter only long enough to offer her another consultation and a brochure covered in photos of pendants and colored candles wrapped in twine.
Rebecca accepted the brochure, shook his hand, and promised to call if she needed a personal, in-home cleansing or a three month supply of healing herbs because he now offered both.
“You owe me,” she hissed at Holden, “big-time.” She dropped Martin’s brochure in the trash. “That guy makes my skin crawl.”
“Any blood?” He nodded at her hands.
“No. Did you see any spirits or spells?”
“No.”
The front door whipped open and Mrs. Kristin McCoy blew into Sparky’s like a tropical storm, her short hair sticking straight up and a scowl on her beautiful, pixyish face. She aimed her very pregnant belly at Rebecca like the barrel of a gun.
“So.” She planted her hands on her hips and looked Holden up and down. To Rebecca, she asked, “You stood me up for him? Well, he’s handsome. But I didn’t expect him to be ugly. What’s your name?” she asked Holden.
“Holden Clark.” He rounded the counter to shake her hand. “You’re Kristin?”
“I’m the best friend,” she clarified.
“Honey.” Becca wrapped her arms around her friend, and though Kristin kept up the pissed-off charade for a second, she hugged her back in a tight squeeze. “Come. Sit down before you have a baby on the floor.”
“Good idea.” They sat at the bar because poor Kristin couldn’t fit in a booth anymore. “Now, please tell me,” Kristin said, “why you’re not at work and you look like you’ve been through a two-day bender.”
Becca reached across the bar and clutched her friend’s hand with her spelled one. She hadn’t done it on purpose. She didn’t suspect her best friend of being an evil necromancer, but now she’d know conclusively.
Becca had confided in Kristin all the unexplained weirdness going on in her string of former residences, but Kristin didn’t know about the summoning spell or demons or necromancers. Kristin hadn’t freaked at the idea of ghosts and hauntings, so maybe she would handle the rest of it with the same maturity.
“I didn’t want to scare you,” Rebecca began, “but someone has been harassing me.”
Kristin’s expression darkened. “Who?” She looked ready to do bodily harm, pregnant or not.
“I don’t know,” she sighed, withdrawing her hand. “Holden is helping me investigate.”
Becca bent her fingers back, inspecting her palms for signs of magic. Nada. Not a tickle, not a glow, nothing.
“What’s the evidence?” Kristin asked.
“Well.”
Holden set two chocolate malts and a basket of fries in front of them. “Can I get you anything else?”
Kristin smiled for the first time. “I like you,” she declared, popping a fry into her mouth. She turned back to Becca. “Now what do you know about this stalker creep, and what’s he done?”
“Um.” She looked to Holden for help, but he had wandered away to help a customer. “We know he’s into magic.”
“And the stress from all this is causing insomnia,” Kristin guessed. “Geez.” She took a long sip of malt through the straw. “A jerk who does magic. That should be easy to track down. Almost no one does magic tricks anymore.”
Lying to Kristin felt like a betrayal of a woman she adored. No more. Becca cleared her throat and said quietly, “Not magic tricks, Kristin. He’s a necromancer and he casts real magic with the help of spirits. He put a really awful spell on me, and it’s making me sick.”
Kristin ran the tip of one fry around and around the edge of the basket. Finally, she said, “And Holden’s helping you find him.”
Becca sucked in a deep breath and laid out the final piece of this ghoulish little puzzle. “Because he’s a necromancer, too.”
“Hmm.” She returned her fry to the basket. “Well, I’m glad you told me. What can I do to help?”
Relief washed over Becca, and she teared up. “You’re already doing it.” She gave Kristin another quick hug. “If you can think of anyone who would want to hurt me, tell me. We’re investigating everyone we can.”
“Sure. Derek? Jessa? Any of your junior agents? Charley McGovern.”
Holden rushed over, knocking into the pie case and rattling tins of lemon meringue and old-fashioned apple. He scribbled the names on a lunch ticket. So he’d been eavesdropping, had he?
“I never thought any of them were physically dangerous.” Kristin sat back and massaged the left side of her enormous belly. “Have you been to a doctor?”
“No.” Becca hadn’t wanted to take time off work.
“Maybe you should.”
Becca nodded. “I’ll make an appointment next week. It can’t hurt.”
“Exactly.”
“Anyone else?” Holden asked, staring at the list.
“Not off the top of my head,” Kristin said. “But I’ll text Rebecca if I think of any.”
Holden slipped the paper into his pocket and returned to the kitchen, giving them a little privacy.
“Is it serious?” Kristin asked, digging into the fry basket again. “With him?”
Becca took a sip of her malt and held back a moan of pleasure. The boy knew how to mix ice cream. Licking her lips, she admitted, “I don’t know yet.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? Are you still moving on the first?”
The last couple of days had opened Rebecca’s mind to so many new ideas and possibilities that a sliver of doubt had slipped in about leaving her family and friends behind to be a big shot in a big city.
Becca made a face. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” Kristin choked on a fry. “You’ve been planning this move for six months, and three weeks before you leave, you don’t know? Is he that good in bed?” She craned her neck to see into the kitchen.
Becca swatted her friend’s shoulder. “It’s not like that. It’s…” She slumped on her stool. “For the first time in a really long time, someone got my focus off real estate and sales and profits. He got me thinking about what I want out of life and about my own happiness. And maybe moving to Raleigh wouldn’t make me happy.” Auburn was her home. Her family and friends were here. Deep down she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.
“It would make your dad happy,” Kristin grouched. “He could buy a new living room set. Or a riding mower. Or a—”
“Okay, okay.” She laughed, but the comment stung. Rebecca knew, of course, her daddy didn’t love her because she took care of him financially, and she’d look after him the rest of his life, but perhaps she could focus more attention on her own happiness. “I get it.”
“You know I don’t want you to go. Even though I’ll promise to visit once a week, the baby will be here soon, and I’ll be distracted by being a mom. We’ll never see each other.”
Ah, guilt. That familiar twang. “I know.” Becca didn’t have an excuse for leaving
anymore.
Soon, Nelly would have a BA in marketing from UNC and be independent. Daddy could survive with a few less TVs and Toyotas. But God, the amount of work to reverse her trajectory at this late stage was overwhelming. Not to mention the money she’d lose. Right now her entire office and all her personal furniture was in storage.
Becca was losing her apartment and her leased office building. She had a new McMansion and an even bigger office space waiting for her in Raleigh. On top of that she’d emailed every one of her contacts and announced she was moving and their relationships would be long-distance from now on. Was she supposed to send follow-up notes that read “Oops, sorry, I’m staying in town after all because I met a guy?”
“Stay.” Kristin squeezed her hand. “Your new boy toy wants you to stay, too, I’ll bet.”
She glanced at the empty doorway to the kitchen. Did he? She wet her lips, recalling the warmth of his mouth and the taste of his tongue. What would he do if she told him she was moving away in twenty-one days?
“We haven’t talked about it.” But Becca wasn’t going to get into that now. She changed the subject. “How’s the book business today?”
Kristin, along with her husband Tommy, owned a used bookstore on Western Boulevard. It must be romantic to run a business with the person you loved. Sharing the work, the problems, and the rewards. Carpooling to and from the office. Becca glanced at the empty doorway and thought of the man who owned a fantastic little diner with lots of potential but was too scared or shy or whatever to manage it.
“Slow,” Kristin admitted, “but don’t change the subject.”
“Busted.” Becca poked the fry basket. “The truth is I haven’t told him I’m leaving.”
Chapter Ten
By the end of the day, Holden had an envelope of cash to deposit in the bank and a new waitress named Holly ready to start work in the morning. He hadn’t found a manager yet, but it had been a fruitful day. And it was all due to Rebecca.
He flipped the sign on the front door to Closed, turned off the neon lights, put away his bank bag, and found Wilson cleaning up the kitchen.
