Ghost Gifts

by Laura Spinella

  “Mmm, a little too fearless,” Aubrey said, standing. “Reminds me of somebody. I’ll go reel him in, relieve Yvette at the very least.”

  “He’s a handful. That’s for certain.”

  Striding through the sand, Aubrey heard only the echo of beach-goers, late morning crowds that had descended in large numbers. Saturdays were busy days at the beach. The dark-haired boy spied her. His hand broke from Yvette’s grip and he charged toward his mother.

  “Hey, Petey!” Aubrey scooped him up, swinging him full circle. “Thanks, Yvette, I’ll take over. I know he can wear anybody out.”

  “Oh, I don’t mind, baby. I’d rather wade in the water than attempt to get your grandmother to wear sunscreen.”

  Aubrey laughed. “Mission accomplished on that front. She’s all set.”

  “In that case,” Yvette said, her hand swiping her brow, “I think I will get some lemonade.”

  “It’s in the cooler.” Yvette retreated to their spot on the beach. In a shallow stretch of water, Aubrey admired her son, watching him squeal at little waves and the blanket of silt that washed past his toes, again and again. She smiled at his fascination, the fact that there were no batteries to wear out. He stamped his pudgy feet, trying to trap rocks and shells beneath his toes, and pointed to a tiny crawling crustacean that he could not name. “It’s a crab,” Aubrey said, “like in The Little Mermaid.” Granted, Disney movies held more interest for Aubrey than they did her always-on-the-go two-year-old. After a minute her son quieted. She’d noticed this about him too. For such a busy boy, moments came where his attention was captured by something only he saw. Aubrey knew the power of this shoreline, Rocky Neck beach. She imagined what it might bring—an uncle, perhaps a father. Aubrey never gave up hope on the idea of connecting with her own loved ones. The boy’s feet stopped moving, his view fixed on the horizon. He looked up at his mother. “What do you see, Pete?”

  He jumped up and down and flapped his arm in a willy-nilly direction—the beach, the sea, the sky. “Pa,” he said.

  On the other hand, the boy’s exactness amazed her. The surrounding crowds were enough to unsettle the point of view of any ordinary adult. But through the masses, past beach-goers and beach umbrellas, running children, and swooping seagulls, he’d managed to spot his father. “You’re late,” Aubrey said as Levi drifted into focus.

  “Not that late.” He swung the boy into his arms, his chubby arms gripping tight around Levi’s neck. “Sorry,” he said. “Sunday layout ran longer than I’d hoped.”

  A canvas tote hung from Levi’s shoulder. Aubrey eyed the non-beach bag. “Don’t tell me you brought work. Remember, that’s why you hired an editorial coordinator.”

  “Nope, not me. I remain the well-balanced editor in chief of the Surrey City Press.” A glance passed between them. “Most of the time,” he said, settling the boy onto his shoulders. As he did, the tote the slipped and Aubrey caught it. “The work is all yours. Well, not so much the work, but the result of your labor.”

  Trudging through the sand, Aubrey shuffled to a stop with Levi alongside her. “Oh, is this . . .”

  “The box was on the porch when I stopped home to change. Take a look.”

  She hesitated, thinking about Levi’s remark. It had been a difficult undertaking—though worth every moment. Worth discovering where her writing talent belonged. Naturally, the temptation was too much and Aubrey flipped up the flap. She plucked out a book, holding a first finished copy of The Unremarkable Life of Missy Flannigan by Aubrey Ellis.

  An hour later the group had thoroughly perused the pages, admired the cover art, and remarked on the fascinating story it told. The book offered Missy far more justice than the law or a two-part Surrey City Press series ever could. Aubrey felt satisfied; she’d answered the request. She had done more. She’d done everything she could for a girl now gone nearly a quarter of a century. But the feeling began to ebb almost as quickly as it settled. She sat up on the blanket, a sleepy Pete crooked between herself and Levi.

  He pushed up as far as his elbows. “What?”

  “It’s nothing.” She lay back down.

  A moment passed. Levi sat up taller. “To your left or right?” he said, looking in either direction.

  Aubrey sat up again. “Straight ahead.” She bumped his arm, and Levi looked toward an older couple parked under an umbrella. “Their daughter.”

  “And?” Levi said, which had become his pattern.

  Aubrey couldn’t say it was necessary, but there was terrific peace in knowing that someone always had her back. “It’s good. It’s all good.”

  He stood, and Aubrey breathed a thankful breath as he brushed the sand from his body, oddly grateful for the scars that he would forever bear. It could have ended so very differently. Levi held his hand out to hers, the dimple full-on. “Okay then. We’ll go together.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Susan Ginsburg has been the voice of reason and positive input since I emailed her in 2008 asking if she would offer literary agent advice for my manuscript Beautiful Disaster. Her kind, detailed reply is still my favorite publishing story to tell. Many thanks to Stacy Testa and Writers House as well.

  Thank you to JoVon Sotak and Anh Schluep, Editorial Director at Montlake, and most especially editor Alison Dasho, who saw Ghost Gifts to the finish line. Endless appreciation to the entire Montlake team for all their hard work with this book. Also, thank you to Anh for assigning this book to Charlotte Herscher, Developmental Editor. It was my jackpot win and privilege to have her edit Ghost Gifts; her editorial ideas and guidance were invaluable. I’d also like to acknowledge Hannah Buehler, copyeditor extraordinaire, and proofreader, Montreux Rotholtz.

  Much gratitude goes to the talented professionals who lent their expertise during the research phase of this book. This includes Jennifer Lehman, Senior Deputy District Attorney, Schuylkill County, Pennsylvania; Walt Sosnowski, retired sergeant, NYPD; and New York Times bestselling author Grant Blackwood. Thanks go to Ken Wiesner for lending me his real computer genius brain. Locally, many thanks to Jim Ginley and the Wednesday night critique group. A huge thank you to Richard K. Lodge, Editor-in-Chief, GateHouse Media, West unit, and Editor of the MetroWest Daily News. I could not have created the Surrey City Press newsroom without his generosity and insight.

  Sincere thanks to Karin Gillespie, my most important first reader. She is the pace car of good writing and a wonderful friend. Much appreciation to authors Barbara Claypole White, Saralee Rosenberg, and Judith Arnold, as each offered perfect thoughts in just the right moments. May I never write a book where Melisa Holmes is not part of this page—every time I hand her a draft, I’ve cleared a hurdle. Every time I trip over one, she hands me wine and an answer. Thank you to Steve Bennett, founder of AuthorBytes. He tolerates my writing hours and always has something brilliant and humorous to add. Lastly, to everyone at home, Matt, Megan, Jamie, and Grant, you make books worth writing.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Photo © 2010 Paul Vicario

  Ghost Gifts is Laura Spinella’s third romantic fiction novel. Her first two books, Beautiful Disaster and Perfect Timing, received multiple awards, including a RITA nomination. She also writes sensual romance under the pen name L. J. Wilson, which includes the Clairmont Series Novels. She currently lives with her family outside Boston where she is always writing another novel. Visit her website LauraSpinella.net for more information.