Hearts Through Time

by Unknown

  Vanessa huffed and folded her arms across her chest. He tried not to chuckle over her display as he dug in his pocket for a twenty-dollar bill.

  “Here.” He handed her the money. “Get me the special. It doesn’t matter what it is—I’ll eat anything.”

  Her heated glare pierced right through him, and he looked back at her with an arched brow.

  “Fine.” She snatched the money from his hand and swung around. The march of her step vibrated on the floor and bounced off the walls. Just before she reached the door, her heel slipped and she stumbled, but she quickly righted herself. Then she lifted her chin and hurried out of the room.

  It wasn’t until she slammed the door that Nick allowed himself to laugh out loud. While it didn’t take much to make that woman angry, it’d been a while since he’d seen her this furious.

  He slid behind his desk and sat, anxious to continue searching the Internet for information about Edward Carlisle. Although Abigail’s death had occurred nearly one hundred years ago, her father was a wealthy man, and there had to be some information on his life and his assets.

  Suddenly, a slight breeze crossed Nick’s face and the scent of berries tickled his nose. He looked up and saw a white mist swirling through the air. After a few seconds, the mist coalesced into the woman who’d occupied his thoughts all day, as she materialized right in front of him.

  Nick smiled. Unbelievable! She was definitely a ghost. Wouldn’t his mother find this scenario humorous, since he had never believed her psychic mumbo-jumbo? “Good evening, Miss Carlisle.”

  “Good evening. You have made quite an impression today.” Her cheeks darkened as she dropped her gaze to the floor. She walked to the chair across from his desk, then sat down, looking perfectly straight and proper. “I cannot believe how many clients you have acquired in such little time.”

  “Yes, I’m quite shocked to think I’ve gotten so many clients too. At this rate, I’ll have to hire an assistant.”

  The pink in Abigail’s cheeks faded. She licked her lips and shifted on her chair.

  “What’s wrong?” Nick asked.

  “I . . . well, I fear if you hire an assistant, they will not be able to see me.”

  The sadness in her expression made him stand and move around the desk toward her. He sat in the empty chair beside her. “Don’t worry. If I hire an assistant, they’ll report me, and I’ll be locked away in a psycho ward for talking to ghosts.”

  Color bloomed onAbigail’s cheeks again and she laughed. “Very true. That wouldn’t be good for a man in your line of work.” “You can say that again, Abby.”

  At her sharp inhale, Nick realized she probably wasn’t used to being called by her first name. After all, she came from the early 1900s and grew up in high society, and no doubt everyone around her had followed the rules of etiquette.

  “Forgive me, Miss Carlisle. I suppose I should ask your permission first. Can I call you Abby?”

  She lowered her gaze and nodded. “Yes, you may, but my name is Abigail. I have not been called Abby since I was a child.”

  “Is it all right if I do?”

  “Yes, Mr. Marshal.”

  “No more Mr. Marshal from you. My name is Nick.”

  She met his gaze with a wide smile. “All right. Nick.” She cleared her throat and stood, moving away from him. “I had a purpose coming to you tonight.”

  He leaned back in the chair and ran his fingers through his hair. “And what would that be?”

  “I think your lady friend looks familiar.”

  Nick sat up straight. “My lady friend? I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  “The one who was here a moment ago.”

  “Oh, Vanessa.”

  “Yes, the one who was with you the first day of our meeting.”

  He nodded. “Vanessa Westland.”

  Abby tapped her finger on her chin. “That name isn’t familiar, but I know I have seen her before.”

  He shrugged. “Her father owns the building. Perhaps you saw her before I moved in.”

  “No, I don’t think so. In my mind, I can see her dressed as I am.”

  Nick pushed away from his desk and walked toward her. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Wearing a flowery hat and everything.”

  He stopped in front of her. “And this woman looks like Vanessa?”

  “Remarkably so, yes.” Abby chuckled. “And she even has the same kind of attitude.”

  “Like a spoiled brat?”

  “Yes, as if the world should fall at her feet and do her bidding.”

  Nick threw back his head and laughed. Scary to think there could be two women like Vanessa in the world within a century of each other.

  He sat on the edge of his desk. “Well, I suppose I could ask her about how her family came to own Capitol One Associates. Do you think it might be connected to your murder?”

  “I couldn’t say, but since this building used to be mine and now it’s in her family, there is a remote chance we might find something suspicious.”

  The sound of footsteps in the hall warned Nick of Vanessa’s return. He stood and glanced toward the door.

  Abigail must have heard too, because she gasped and stepped back. “I must go now.”

  Nick reached to stop her, but she faded into a white mist. He slumped on the corner of his desk. She hadn’t given him any time to remind her that Vanessa couldn’t see her anyway.

  Vanessa opened the door and walked in, carrying two white paper bags. She looked as if she’d never left angrier than a hornet. He inhaled the delicious aroma of Chinese food, and his stomach rumbled.

  “Vanessa, you’re a lifesaver. I’m so hungry I could eat a bear.”

  She set the bags of food on his desk and leaned into him. “Bear wasn’t on the menu.”

  He gripped her shoulders to move her away, but suddenly Vanessa yelped and jumped back. Sweet and sour sauce covered her hand and ran down the side of her fancy blue dress.

  “Eew,” she shrieked. “How did that happen?”

  Nick wondered that himself as he glanced from the tipped-over bag to the sauce spilling from the square carton onto his desk.

  Shaking his head, he ran to the adjoining bathroom and brought back some paper towels. He handed her a few.

  “Why did you do that?” she asked in a whining tone.

  “Do what? Get the paper towels?”

  “No. Why did you tip over the container?”

  “I didn’t tip it over. I wasn’t even close to the bag.”

  She huffed. “Well, I certainly didn’t knock it over.”

  “You must have, Vanessa. You were closer to the bag. Besides, my hands were on your shoulders, remember?”

  “Ugh!” She wiped her hands then dabbed at her dress with a paper towel. “This is going to stain. Do you know how much I paid for this dress?”

  “I can only imagine,” Nick muttered as he finished wiping the spill off his desk. “Why don’t you clean yourself up before the stain sets in?”

  Vanessa marched toward the restroom, but her heel must have caught on something, because she tripped. Her knees hit the floor in a resounding thud, and she let out a loud yelp. As she got up, she glared at Nick. “Why did you trip me?”

  “Trip you? How could I from over here?”

  “Oh!” She hurried into the bathroom and slammed the door.

  Why was the perfect Vanessa being so clumsy tonight? Had she been drinking? Nick shook his head, remembering that he hadn’t smelled alcohol on her.

  At the sound of a piercing scream, he rushed to the bathroom and flung open the door. The front of Vanessa’s dress was soaked with water, and even her hair and face were dripping. Streaks of black mascara ran down her cheeks.

  “What did you do?” Nick asked.

  “Me? I didn’t do anything. It’s your stupid faucet. It blasted water at me.”

  He walked closer and looked at the brand-new sink. He turned the handle and she jumped away, but the water poured from the spout as it
normally did.

  Nick gave her a quizzical stare and shrugged. “Works just fine for me.”

  Vanessa let out an unladylike grunt and pushed past him. “I don’t know what’s wrong with your office, but it doesn’t like me. I’m leaving!”

  He wasn’t about to stop her. Funny how other things had prevented her from staying, almost as if the room had read Nick’s thoughts. He glanced around the empty space. The room couldn’t have done anything. But perhaps his ghost had, he thought with a grin.

  Five

  The only time Nick could work uninterrupted on the Carlisle case was Saturday. With the other offices closed, he had the building to himself. And Abby, of course.

  He hurried to his desk and switched on the computer. In the past few days, he hadn’t had the time to research her family. Now he couldn’t wait to dig deep and find some answers.

  “Abby? Are you here?”

  The clock on the wall ticked as he waited. When she didn’t show, he growled and returned his focus to the computer screen. He typed in “Carlisle empire, 1912, California.” Several links popped up, and he clicked on the first one. It was an old newspaper article about Edward Carlisle’s death. Nick zoomed in and enhanced the article to read it better. The piece highlighted Edward’s life and how he’d made his money in the newspaper business. There was a picture of the mansion where he and his only child lived, and the place looked vaguely familiar. On another page was a photograph of the very building where Nick sat in his office.

  Nick exited that site and clicked on another link, hoping to find out where the money had ended up. After searching three more links, he found what he was looking for. It turned out that Alexander and Julia Carlisle had inherited Edward’s millions.

  Nick sat back in his chair and linked his fingers over his chest. “Abby?” he called out loudly. “Wake up. It’s time to start working.”

  A white mist appeared in the middle of his office. Abby materialized, as beautiful as she’d been when he’d seen her last.

  She yawned as she walked closer. “I was sleeping.”

  “Sorry to wake you, but we have work to do.”

  “I know.”

  “I found something on the Internet. Looks like your father’s newspaper was passed to your uncle and his wife.”

  Abby’s eyes widened and she rushed to Nick’s side to stand behind the chair. He pointed to the web page still displayed.

  “Oh, my. That explains a lot.”

  He looked at her over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

  “My father’s newspaper made a lot of money. His brother thought he could run it better, which was the reason he had not spoken to my father for many years. Looks like he didn’t run it any better.”

  “You think your uncle ran it into the ground?”

  Abby remained silent for a moment then nodded. “That would certainly explain why new people moved into the building and turned it into a jewelry shop.”

  “Now you’re thinking.” Nick gave her a wink.

  She chuckled. “Come to think of it, my uncle wasn’t known for his intellect, so I’m certain that is what happened to Father’s business.”

  Nick motioned to the chair across from him. “Sit and let’s write some names. I want to hear about everyone who had something to gain or lose from your father’s death—and yours.”

  Abby breathed a deep sigh before moving away. A slight breeze tickled Nick’s neck. Did I just feel her breath? he wondered. Her intoxicating berry scent was also getting stronger. He shook the thought from his mind—after all, she was still a ghost.

  She rested her elbows on the desktop. “Let us start with Uncle Alexander.”

  Nick took out a pad of paper and a pen and wrote down the name.

  “Uncle Alexander was adopted when my father was in his youth. Father told me that although he treated his brother as flesh and blood, his parents always gave my father special treatment over his brother. Uncle Alexander received the last of everything. When they both moved out of the house and married, Uncle Alexander still resented my father.”

  Abby rested her chin on her clasped hands, a faraway expression on her face. “If I remember correctly, Father and his brother started the newspaper together, but after a few months, my father bought out Uncle Alexander. That was when feelings were hurt and relationships broken.”

  “What about his wife?” Nick glanced at the computer screen. “Julia Carlisle?”

  “She didn’t come from a wealthy home like my mother, so after Uncle Alexander was cut off from the Carlisle money, he and Aunt Julia had to scrape by.”

  “What happened to the money your uncle received from the buyout? Did he squander it away?”

  “That is a good question. I wish I knew. My uncle worked a low-paying job. Aunt Julia didn’t work, because she had a son to raise.”

  Nick looked up from the computer. “You had a cousin, then?”

  “Yes. Anthony.”

  “What was he like growing up?”

  “Anthony was three years younger than me,” Abby said. “He wasn’t too bright, but then neither were his parents.”

  Nick smiled. “Do you remember anymore about them?”

  “Not really. As I had explained before, our families were not close.”

  “So Anthony would’ve been twenty-two when you died?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hmm . . .” He nodded as he rocked in his swivel chair. “What could your cousin have gained from the Carlisle millions?”

  “Like I had mentioned before, Anthony wasn’t very smart. His father wanted him to go to college, but I assume he didn’t do well there. I would think it relieved him to have a wealthy father so he didn’t have to work for a living like Uncle Alexander had.”

  “Yes, I’m thinking the same thing.” Nick wrote some notes beside Anthony’s name. “Any other relatives I should know about?”

  “No. Besides my maternal grandmother, they were the only family I had.”

  Nick pushed away from his desk and moved to the minifridge in the corner of the room. As he opened the door, he was about to ask Abby if she wanted a drink, but he stopped the words before they left his mouth.

  He grabbed a bottle, unscrewed the cap, and gulped down a fair amount of water, then placed the bottle back in the fridge. “Well, this gives us a start. I’ll start checking into your uncle’s past to see if I can find out what he did with his money while he was alive. Unfortunately, if he killed you, there’s no way to prove it, since he’d have died many years ago.”

  Abby stood and walked to him, stopping mere inches away. “I understand. I’m just grateful for your help. There has to be something we can find that will make me cross over. I’m weary of living this nonexistent life.”

  Nick lifted his hand to her cheek. Although he knew he’d feel nothing, he yearned to comfort her somehow. She closed her eyes as his fingers breezed by her chin. Coolness penetrated his skin, but nothing solid. How he wanted to touch her and have her feel him!

  Abby sucked in a breath and jumped back, her eyes widening. “Oh, my. I think I felt . . . something.”

  “What? You felt me?”

  “I think so. My cheek became warm for just a moment.”

  “Would you like me to touch you to see if it happens again?”

  Her face reddened. “If that is all right with you.”

  “Sure. I’m here to help, remember?” He winked.

  Once again she closed her eyes. Nick swallowed hard and slowly moved his hands to her face. Although he didn’t feel anything but cool air, he cupped her head and ran his thumbs along her cheek, down toward her parted lips. Her deep breaths brushed his neck. It was unbelievable, but he could feel her in a strange sort of way, too.

  Her eyes were closed, but soon the lines around them relaxed and a smile touched her face. A soft sigh escaped her throat.

  “Tell me what you feel,” he whispered.

  “Warmth. And tingles. It feels like my face is waking up after a deep sleep.�
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  Nick slid his hands down her face to her slender neck. She tilted her head back as if she knew what he was doing. Could she feel him? The pleased expression on her face was so real it made his heart leap.

  Suddenly, her eyes popped open and a blush reddened her face. She stepped back and folded her arms.

  He cleared his throat and stepped behind his desk. “Well, Abby. That was a great breakthrough, don’t you think?”

  She nodded, and he could see her body tremble. He groaned inwardly. The more he was with this woman, the more he wanted her to be real.

  Abigail’s chest ached, and she feared she would explode if she couldn’t control her heartbeat. Warm tingles continued to spread throughout her body, especially where Nick’s fingers had touched her.

  She hadn’t really felt him, not like she could feel someone’s touch before she died, but the sensations that cascaded over her were definitely real. It was those very sensations that put her mind in a dither. His gaze also distracted her. Those blue eyes nearly hypnotized her, and now they were a smoky blue, darker than they’d been before. He was having a hard time meeting her stare, but when he did there was so much tenderness in his expression that she nearly crumbled to the floor with happiness.

  Abigail shook herself out of the trance his eyes had put her under and walked to the chair on wobbly legs. Lately she’d noticed other things about him besides his eyes. She enjoyed his sense of humor; he’d made her laugh more times than she could count. She’d also witnessed firsthand the kind way he treated people—even Vanessa, whom he didn’t want to be around. And for a man to give his extra time to a woman—a ghost, no less— who would never be able to pay him for his services, that was the dearest form of compassion he could have shown. Along with being a generous man, he was also very intelligent.

  “That was indeed quite a breakthrough,” she said. “It almost gives me hope that I am getting closer to passing over.”

  After she’d said it, Abigail realized that if Nick made her feel this way all the time, she didn’t want to pass into the next world. She wanted to stay right here with him for as long as she could, letting his smile melt her heart.