The smell of fresh coffee was just starting to swirl through the air when someone tapped on my front door. I poked my head out of my office and saw Lucas standing there, a bag of pastries and two cups of coffee—large cups—in hand. Although I kind of hated myself for it, my hands immediately ran through my hair, smoothing away any lingering bed head. I’d planned on going upstairs and dressing for the day before the shop opened, but as it was, I’d barely done more than change out of my pajamas and brush my teeth.
Small mercies I’d even made it that far.
After a quick self-assessment, I hopped off my stool and hurried to the door. Right before pulling it open, I glanced over my shoulder and marveled at the fact that I was the only one there. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been truly alone in the shop; I wondered idly how long it would take Hayward and Flapjack to come barging in, sniping at each other. True solitude was a rare luxury in the life of a ghost whisperer. I shrugged and decided I’d take what I could get as I opened the door for Lucas.
“Morning.” He came through and went straight to the counter, where he set the Siren’s Song cups and pastry bag down and then smiled at me over his shoulder. “I figured after the night you had, you might need a little extra pick-me-up.”
I locked the front door and then joined him at the counter. The smell of fresh muffins wafted up from the bag as he opened it and my mouth started to water. “Thank you. This is really nice.”
Lucas passed over one of the coffee cups and then a napkin. “Hazelnut latte.”
I arched an eyebrow. “How did you know my drink?”
“I asked one of the baristas—the one with the long, red hair.”
I smiled into my drink. “Holly.”
Lucas smiled over at me. “She helped me choose the pastries too, so there should be something in there that you like.”
My stomach growled loud enough that there was no way Lucas couldn’t have heard it and my cheeks warmed.
“Guess that answers that question,” he teased, taking a sip from his own coffee cup. He gestured at the bag with his free hand. “Ladies first.”
I reached in and selected the chocolate muffin that I knew was loaded with walnuts and chocolate chips. “Thank you,” I said, barely refraining from shoving half of it into my mouth right there.
Lucas inclined his head and made his own selection.
“Do you want to go sit in the back?” I asked, eager for the caffeine-and-chocolate fix.
“Sure.”
I led the way to my tiny office and sat down behind my desk.
Lucas took the fold-up chair that was leaning against the wall and we settled in and resumed our breakfast. “How’s the shoulder feeling today?” he asked me as I bit off a huge bite of the chocolate muffin.
I shrugged one shoulder as I swallowed, though I did take a second to savor the flavors; it would be criminal not to. “All right, I suppose. How are you?”
“Tired, mostly.”
I laughed. “That too.”
He shifted and brought one ankle up to rest on the opposite knee. “The Carters asked me to officially invite you to the wrap party on Tuesday night.”
I tilted my head. “What for?”
Lucas took a long drink. “They want to thank you for helping resolve the whole mess over at the house.”
I shook my head. “They don’t have to take me out to dinner.” I’d never been good at being the center of attention. It was bad enough to know that the Harbor Hubbub’s splashy article was making the rounds; I preferred to melt into the background and observe others.
“They want to, Scarlet.”
I sighed. It would be rude to refuse them. “All right. When and where?”
“They said they’d send a car.”
“Fancy,” I replied, my voice flat.
“Don’t sound so enthusiastic.” Lucas chuckled. “I’ll be there too, if that makes you feel any better.”
“Oh, yes, heaps.”
He sipped at his drink, looking pensive. “Have you heard from anyone at the studio?”
I laughed. “I’ve been a little busy, you know, saving the world as we know it around here. I haven’t had a lot of time to check my voicemails.”
“Fair enough.” Lucas grinned. “Do you think you’re going to take them up on their offer to join the show?”
I shook my head. “Honestly, I think that little article in the local paper was enough of a taste of fame for me.”
Something flickered in his eyes, and for a moment, I wondered if it wasn’t a hint of disappointment. Had he been hoping I would say yes? Accept the deal and travel the country with him? I quickly dismissed the theory and finished my pastry.
Before I could even think about the future, there was one last thing I needed to do.
Chapter 20
In the light of day, the Lilac House was almost unrecognizable. The final renovations had been completed the day before, and from the sidewalk, it was like looking at a completely different house. Somewhere along the way, termite damage was discovered in the wood beams of the porch and a complete reconfiguration had taken place. The new porch wrapped around the entire house in a style that reminded me of the town’s oldest home, The Beechwood Manor, which sat on the bluff overlooking the harbor that gave the town its name.
Shutters flanked each window and cedar shakes had been added to accent the top portion of the eaves. The siding had been painted a deep, forest green with creamy accents on the trim and porch. Iron lanterns hung on either side of the new double doors, and two ceiling fans swirled lazily, ready for the summer nights that were on their way.
A bubble of excitement rose in me as I considered the home from the first paver of the pathway leading to the front steps. There was no doubt in my mind that the new B & B would soon be booked out for months and the surge of foot traffic would give a boost to all of the local businesses, mine included.
Anxiety swept in quickly to eclipse the excitement; after Lucas’s departure from the shop, curiosity finally won out and I’d checked my messages. Sure enough, there were three messages from somebody at the studio requesting that I meet with the Carters about adding me to the show. Nothing was on paper yet, but I got the feeling the deal was mine to take.
The problem was that I had no idea whether or not it was a deal I wanted.
The prospect of traveling again had obvious appeal, and as it would be on some fancy studio’s dime, it would likely be five-star accommodations—not to mention a fat paycheck. Then there was Lucas. We’d spend a lot more time together, on and off the set. Neither of us had voiced it yet, but there was an undeniable chemistry between us. If I said yes to the show, it would mean I was saying yes to giving us a chance.
Likewise, if I said no … we’d have a few days left together and then he’d be gone, most likely forever.
“Do you think she’s still here?” Gwen asked softly, appearing at my right.
“I suspect there’s only one way to find out,” Hayward replied from my left.
With a deep breath, I shoved the thoughts about the Carters as far away as I could and continued up the walk. “Lucas gave me the combination to the lock box,” I told them as I planted my feet on the cheery welcome mat. It was nearing dusk and the crew had already cleared out for the evening. A metal box hung from the door with a key pad on the front. I pressed the squishy buttons and a green light glowed, accompanied by a soft chirp. I took the key from the secured compartment inside the box and unlocked the front door.
Glancing over my shoulder at Gwen then Hayward, I said, “Remember—keep her calm. We can’t afford another freak-out, all right?”
They nodded in unison.
With a firm press on the lever, I opened the heavy front door and made my way inside, keeping an eye out for flying objects or an angry ghost. The foyer area was set up like a hotel, with a small desk centered in the space. Wide archways opened on either side, one to the dining room and kitchen, the other to the living area. Behind the desk was th
e staircase that led to the guest suites. I took careful steps, my sneakers squeaking softly on the new hardwood floors. “Rosie? Are you here?”
Silence. I turned to glance at Hayward and Gwen.
“We’ll go look around,” Gwen said, keeping her voice soft.
Hayward followed Gwen’s lead and the two of them floated up through the ceiling to explore the second story of the large estate.
With a sigh, I started for the kitchen. The home had been staged for the final day of production and the designer they used had either had more budget than she knew what to do with or she just really liked stuff. There were decorative tables and bookshelves lining every wall. And … so many plants! Obviously, I like plants as much, if not more than, the average person, but the decorator had gone so far overboard that the room felt jungle-esque, with potted plants in huge ceramic containers arranged every few feet.
In the kitchen, the quartz-topped island glittered under the soft lighting from an ornate fixture, and I found myself smiling, remembering the night Lucas and I had sat on the stools eating pizza and swapping travel stories. The smile slipped and a now-familiar tightness gripped my chest. It was the feeling I always got when wrestling with a big decision. As much as people think of me as a free spirit or a wanderer, it’s actually not the case. I love to travel and explore but I pour a ridiculous amount of time into preparations. I always know where I’ll be staying and have at least one solid backup plan in place just in case things don’t work out. When I made my plans to lease the apartment and retail space here in Beechwood Harbor and open Lily Pond, I’d agonized for months. Every time my real estate agent sent me a potential listing, I’d feel itchy and claustrophobic. It wasn’t that I couldn’t make decisions, it was that I was terrified of making the wrong ones.
“Scarlet?”
I jolted at the voice and swirled around.
Rosie stood in the doorway. Her face was lined with concern, making her appear as though she’d aged since the last time I’d seen her. Physically, I knew it was impossible, but there was something different about her. The anger was gone, drained from her, and instead she was left looking wrung out and tired.
My heart slowed as she swept into the room, searching my face. “Is what they’re saying true?”
My heart clenched. Of course she’d already heard. It was unlikely that the crew had talked about anything but the unsettling events of the night before and the early-morning arrest.
I drew in a quiet breath. For all the time I’d spent working with ghosts, I still had yet to master the art of breaking the news gracefully. It seemed like I was always sticking my foot in my mouth or rushing the process. To be fair, it was hard to put myself in their metaphorical shoes. If I’d been roaming the earth as a ghost for a handful of decades, only to find that the man I pegged my murder on was in fact innocent, not to mention helplessly in love with me even after all that time, I’m not sure how I’d react.
“It’s true,” I said, meeting her gaze. “Calvin didn’t push you down the stairs, Rosie. In fact, no one did. That was an accident.”
“No!” she whispered. “No, that can’t be right!” For a moment, the room went silent. I braced myself, expecting her to scream, to fly off into a rage and destroy every last one of those potted plants and other and knick-knacks scattered throughout the house.
I held up a hand and approached slowly, as though she were a spooked horse about to bolt. “Rosie, I—”
“Why am I still here?” she demanded, her tone sharp. “Why am I trapped like this? Why do I play that moment over and over in my mind every time I close my eyes? If he’s innocent, then why do I burn with rage every time I think about him?”
She trembled, her silver and purple edges shimmering like sunlight filtering through a stained glass window.
“I think you’re here because there is something left unresolved. Your spirit knows that and wants the truth.”
“It was Wendy?”
“I’m so sorry, Rosie. But yes.” I ducked my chin. “She was poisoning you. Every day, after you went for a run together, she was lacing your sports drink with antifreeze. It’s called glycol ethylene poisoning. She was doing it slowly, a little at a time, but it was all building up in your system, making you sick.”
“But I fell,” Rosie interjected, her expression pinched as though trying to solve an intricate math equation. “Everyone at the funeral, that’s all they could talk about, how it was such a tragic accident. No one said the word poison.” She paused and her eyes went wide. “Wendy was there that day. Sitting in the front row, right next to—”
She cut herself off with a sharp gasp.
I waited, tamping down my own curiosity. Her eyes were darting back and forth. I imagined her mind was like an old-school VHS tape, rewinding faster and faster and faster, and then … click.
“She was sitting next to Calvin. She held his—his hand, while he … while he cried. For me.” Her hands went flat over her mouth and she shuddered, silent, silver tears coursing down her pale face. “It was all real. All of it. At the time, I was so—so convinced that it was all an act. That he was secretly happy I was gone. That he’d gotten away with it. But it—it wasn’t. Was it?”
She lifted her eyes slowly to mine, waiting for that final confirmation. With a heavy heart, I shook my head.
She sobbed into her hands, the tears flowing faster. I glanced around with a nervous eye, expecting the walls to start shaking.
But nothing happened.
One eyebrow raised, I shifted my tentative gaze back to Rosie. She sniffled and wiped at her eyes. “I can’t believe this,” she said, the shock still written all over her face. She floated down to the ground like a leaking Mylar balloon.
“I’m really sorry, Rosie. I can’t even imagine how upsetting this must be for you.” I tightened my grip on the flashlight. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”
She considered my words and then shook her head. “No. No, I don’t think so. You’ve done enough.”
“I hope you can find some peace now that you know the truth. If you ever want to talk, please come to see me.”
“I will. Thank you, Scarlet.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but she vanished right before my eyes; no doubt, she had a lot to think about. The aftermath was the hardest part of helping ghosts. I knew that I had helped Rosie and in the end, had helped to put away a murderer who’d been lurking just under the surface of the sleepy little town. There was no telling who else she’d hurt or tried to hurt over the years. With a shudder, I wondered if Rosie had been her first victim. Or, more importantly, her last?
The dark thoughts and heaviness in the air drove me from the kitchen. “Gwen? Hayward?” I called out in a hoarse whisper near the front door.
They materialized through the wall opposite the kitchen and from the looks on their faces, they’d overheard every word.
The corners of my mouth lifted and I gave them a slight nod. “Come on, you two. Time to go home.”
Chapter 21
Tuesday afternoon, I got a cryptic phone call from Calvin Harrison. He’d been released from the hospital with a concussion and a badly sprained wrist, but shockingly, little other damage besides some bruises. He asked if he could stop by after the shop closed for the day, offering no details. I agreed to see him, then burned with curiosity the rest of the afternoon until he appeared at my door just a little after six. I greeted him with a smile but it faded quickly as I took in his bloodshot eyes and haggard expression. A carry-on sized suitcase sat at his feet, it’s handle extended.
I ushered him inside and motioned for him to take a seat at the consultation table while I locked the door. “Hello, Calvin,” I started. “Can I get you anything? I have water, tea, coffee.”
“No, thank you,” he replied, taking the chair and stowing the suitcase at his feet.
I slid into the seat across from him and kept my hands folded together in my lap to keep my nervous fidgeting to a minimum. “Are you feeling b
etter?”
“I am.” He inclined his head. “Thank you for asking. I’m catching the red-eye out of town tonight. But, before I go, there’s something I wanted to ask you.”
“Of course.” I nodded, although I wasn’t sure exactly where the conversation was heading.
“First of all, I want to apologize for being harsh with you when you came to see me at the hotel.”
“Oh, please don’t worry about that,” I replied, waving it off.
He considered me for a moment. “I also should add that it was my fault you ended up in the local paper.”
My eyebrows knitted together. “It was? How?”
Calvin drew in a deep breath. “After you left, I ended up wandering through town, thinking about the things you’d said. I passed by the library and stopped in to see if maybe they … well, to see if they had any books on the matter.”
“Aha.”
Enter Candy Shepherd stage left.
“The woman working the counter had all kinds of questions and I ended up telling her the whole story. I had no idea she would write that ridiculous article. I saw it the next morning—they deliver them to the hotel guest rooms—and was mortified. I am truly sorry, Scarlet.”
“It’s all right, Calvin. I appreciate you telling me what happened though. It was driving me a little crazy trying to figure out how that whole thing got started.”
“I guess I should have just gone directly to the source and asked you my questions.”
“It’s all right.” I tipped up one corner of my mouth. “Most people don’t want to admit to being curious about the spirit world. Heck, it’s certainly not the kind of thing I bring up at cocktail parties.”
A hint of a smile flitted across his face, but faded quickly. He glanced down at his hands and then up at me. “So it’s all true then? You saw—you saw my Rosie?”
My chest tightened at the sadness in his question. “Yes.”
Calvin let his gaze drift away for a moment and I could see him working to fit the pieces together.
The Ghost Hunter Next Door: A Beechwood Harbor Ghost Mystery (Beechwood Harbor Ghost Mysteries Book 1) Page 17
