“For one, the color.”
She shrugged. “It will be a room full of people I’ve known all my life. Color isn’t a factor this evening; I’m comfortable with all their ghosts.” They traded a look and conversation unique to their lives. “I thought you liked it.”
“I do. I would—if I were coming along. If you really wanted me to go, you should have said so.”
“I would have loved for you to go, meet everyone, or the parts of the troupe you never have. Joe will be there with his new wife, and Benny G. I told you about him, a mind-reading magician who gives people like me a bad name. And Zeke . . . I mentioned he was coming. He didn’t make the last reunion.”
“Right,” Levi said. “Zeke.”
“Dublin,” Aubrey supplied.
“Sounds like a carnie . . . excuse me, stage name if I ever heard one.”
“It, um . . . it is.”
“You’re kidding.” He blinked at her.
“Actually, no.” Among the things she did know about Zeke’s past was a clear recollection of spirited Irish brogues, the mother and father who watched over their children. Several more intimate details Zeke had shared years later. “His last name has more to do with heritage. That, and Zeke insisted a different last name was one way to keep the child welfare system from finding them.”
“I supposed running away to join the carnival would be another.”
“Why thank you so much for not saying ‘circus.’” Aubrey smirked at him.
“Welcome. So what was it?”
“What was what?”
“Zeke’s last name before it was Dublin.”
“Why would it matter? Charley paid him and Nora off the books; it’s not like she collected social security numbers.”
Levi continued to stare.
“Dunne,” she finally said. “Like I said, Irish heritage. Zeke and Nora, they didn’t have an easy go of it.”
Levi held up a hand. “You can spare me the details. I believe you.”
“Good,” she said, leaning across the tabletop, kissing him. Aubrey was just as happy not to delve into the things she did know about Zeke.
“So whatever Zeke’s mysterious background, he’s the Heinz-Bodette’s grifter who made the rest of you look like homebodies.”
“He’s not a grifter. But yes. And it was Zeke and Nora together.”
“Yeah, but you only had a steamy love affair with one of them.”
She hummed under her breath. “I’m not sure Nora would describe it as steamy. More like a first love; much more innocent.”
“Cute, Aubrey. And even better, you’ll be spending this evening, wearing that dress, with old Zeke.”
“And so what? Like I was your first date?” She folded her long arms. Considering the dress, her arms felt like the most malleable part of her body. “I recall a drunken New Year’s Eve confession you once shared. Let’s see, it was a summer semester at the University of Chicago, a journalism professor with a sexy French accent.”
“She’s from France. The accent’s kind of hard to avoid.”
“Oui, monsieur. Hard to avoid, as was the rest of the affair, I’m guessing.” She winked at him. “I believe her educational focus was supposed to be working the delicacies of foreign sources.”
“Which she did, expertly.”
“Ha! And that’s not all Professeur Renard worked—teaching her young protégé how to whisper dirty little things in ten different dialects.”
Color rose at the base of Levi’s throat. “Which is why I no longer drink champagne.”
“And perhaps the reason you still get a Christmas card from her every year.”
He refocused on his Ink on Air contract as Aubrey went on. “At least Zeke wasn’t my polished-yet-amenable-to-sleeping-with-a-student professor. Besides, he was definitely more the rough-and-tumble type.” She admired Levi’s looks—more dashing than daring. “My tastes have changed. Besides, Zeke and I were best friends longer than we were anything else. That’s the part I’ll be reunioning with tonight.”
“I wasn’t worried.” Levi’s gaze flicked between the paperwork and Aubrey. “Even so, I could grab a quick shower, throw on a suit. A few hours away from this stuff might be what I need. Clear my head.”
“Fine with me, if it wasn’t for one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Everyone who would babysit for Pete is going to the reunion. Your father’s in London. Remember, that’s why you decided to stay home.”
“Right.” He ran his hand over the unlikely stubble on his jaw. “There’s that.”
Wide awake, Pete appeared like most seven-year-olds, maybe one with a particularly active imagination and unusual vocabulary. It was the sleeping hours that kept standard babysitters at bay.
“Besides, you’ll have a better time not worrying if I’m bored.” Levi shuffled several stacks into one. “And let’s make it a deadline. By the time you get home, I’ll have reached a decision.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
He refanned the neat stack he’d just made. For a long time—since the Missy Flannigan story and a near-fatal gunshot wound—Levi had been satisfied running the Surrey City Press. On occasion, he’d dive into a series on the environment, the economy, and even politics. But restlessness had evolved, and Aubrey knew he was no longer content. Regardless of the television format or his willingness to admit it, MediaMatters’ proposal had reenergized Levi—a point he’d refused to acknowledge so far.
Aubrey was about to offer one more word of input when the doorbell rang. They both rose from the table, Levi peeking out the dining room window. “A limo?”
“A what?” She peered at the same view. “Wow. News to me, but not a total surprise.” She stared at the high-end mode of transportation. “You never know exactly how Zeke Dublin will turn up.”
Opening the front door in his gray sweatpants and worn T-shirt, Levi fought a footman vibe. The thought intensified as a dark-haired man wearing a tux glided through the doorway. Levi had never followed the scent of a man’s cologne before, but it was impossible to avoid as the visitor paid him no attention, rushing toward Aubrey. Levi blinked as she squealed Zeke’s name, her tux-wearing first love swinging her in the full circle that ended many 1940s films.
“Look at you, sweetheart! You are more gorgeous than I remember.” The motion stopped; Levi’s focus didn’t. “And I remember quite a bit.” On that remark, Levi shut the door loudly and moved toward the couple in his living room.
Aubrey took a step back, though her hand was still clasped in Zeke’s. “It’s good to see you too. Charley keeps me updated. She loves getting postmarked letters from you. Kind of a lost art.”
“Least I can do for one of the women I credit with saving my life . . . and Nora’s.”
“You’re being dramatic.” She glanced in Levi’s direction. “He’s being dramatic.”
“I don’t think so,” Zeke said. In turn, he never took his eyes off Aubrey. “Without you or Charlotte, who knows what would have become of Nora and me.”
“Guess we know what became of her.” Levi hooked his arm around Aubrey’s shoulder. He looked directly at Zeke: sharply dressed, movie-star-grade scruff, lean, and with a height that rivaled Levi’s. Rough-and-tumble was not making his short list of Zeke observations.
“Zeke, this is Levi.” Aubrey tapped the beaded clutch against his chest.
“Right.” He grinned, and Levi thought the expression might be visible from the next county. “So you’re the guy I’m supposed to hate.”
“Pardon?” Levi said.
“Ah, it’s nothing.” Zeke raised his arm, lightly touching Aubrey’s cheek. The motion was fleeting, barely noticeable. Yet Levi noticed—completely. Zeke tucked his hands in his pockets, the sleight of hand vanishing. “Years ago, I told Aubrey someday the right guy would come along, win the girl. I said I’d hate whoever the son of a bitch was.” Zeke’s reminiscent tone faded, and he cleared his throat. “Then I was being dramatic, of course.�
� He extended a hand. “Zeke Dublin.”
Tentatively, Levi shook it.
“Nice to meet you. Charlotte’s mentioned you over the years.”
Aubrey leaned, looking out the screen door. “Zeke, what’s with the limo?”
“Oh, that.” He flashed the smile again. “It’s not every day the Heinz-Bodette troupe has a reunion. Being as I missed the last one, I thought I’d escort us to this one in style. Your grandmother, Yvette, and Nora are already tucked inside. Nora can’t wait to see you. Thought it’d be easier to come in, collect you myself.”
“And you didn’t bring a corsage?” Levi said.
Zeke didn’t reply to Levi’s sarcasm, but he did give him a long once-over. “Damn. I like him, Aubrey. Everything Charlotte said—direct, honest oozes off him, so does smart.”
Levi could not say the feeling was mutual.
“Definitely an improvement over husband number one.”
And Levi’s estimation dipped another notch. On the other hand, he noticed that Aubrey did not correct Zeke, telling him the two of them were not married. While Levi never considered their relationship anything less than lifelong, marriage wasn’t a subject that got much airtime anymore. At least not until Zeke Dublin had shoved it in his face by showing up.
“Pete!” Aubrey said, clearly deviating. “You need to meet my . . . our son.”
“I’ll call him.” Levi backed up a few feet before pivoting toward the kitchen and basement stairs. A few moments later, he returned with an annoyed-looking Pete, several plastic army men gripped in one fist.
“Pete, this is Zeke,” Aubrey said. “He’s an old friend, from Nannie’s and my carnival days.” Zeke held out a hand, and Levi’s fingers crunched harder into his son’s leather-clad shoulder. “And what do we say?”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Looks like I interrupted a battle. Sorry.” Zeke squatted, tapping a finger on the plastic soldiers. “But I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. Your mom and I . . .” He rose and tousled Pete’s hair. “You sure are the spittin’ image of your dad, ’cept for the eyes. Got your mom’s eyes. Is he, Aubrey? Much like you?”
“Well, he—”
“Pete, head back downstairs,” Levi said. “I’ll be there in just a minute.”
“But you told me that, like, a million years ago. The blue-wood battle is almost over. We’re no Teufelshunde!”
“What?” Levi said absently.
“Devil dogs,” Pete said. “That’s what the Germans call us.”
“Okay, fine. I’ll be there before the French surrender.” Levi’s arm wrapped reflexively around Pete’s chest, patting it.
“Germans, Pa. We’ll run those Germans right out of the forest.” Clutching his plastic army men, Pete ducked out from under his father’s hold and was gone.
Levi turned back to the adult conversation. “So what is it you do, Zeke?” He glanced toward the curbside transportation. “Other than pick up old girlfriends in limousines.”
“I work for a large conglomerate—hodgepodge of holdings, newer residential projects, multiple resort ventures. In fact, we just finished up a new casino project in Atlantic City—the Galaxy Resort.”
“The Serino Enterprises project?”
It was Zeke’s turn to offer a curious look. “Yeah. How’d you know that?”
“We covered the casino opening at the Surrey City Press. I’m the editor in chief there.”
“Right. Charlotte mentioned that.” He shook a finger at Levi. “Maybe it was at breakfast this morning.” Zeke looked at Aubrey. “Did she tell you I’m staying with her and Yvette?”
“She said she insisted on it.”
“Anyway,” Zeke said, “an Atlantic City casino doesn’t seem like news for around here. What’s the Serino connection?”
At the mention of the Serino name, Levi felt Aubrey stiffen. It’d been some time since their disturbing encounter with one ghostly member of the Serino clan had come up. Levi moved on with the less personal, news-oriented Serino link. “Local connection. One of the Serino brothers lives in the area. In fact, he used to live in Surrey. Bruno Serino.”
“Of course, that’s not really why we know them,” Aubrey said softly.
Zeke focused on Aubrey, and Levi stared at him, aware that Zeke’s knowledge of Aubrey was thoroughly intimate. “And why do you know them, sweetheart?”
And Zeke’s last word felt too intimate to Levi, who narrowed his eyes at Aubrey’s date.
“I, um . . . I had a little run-in with their dead son, Eli. It was ages ago.”
The house on Acorn Circle and its ghost—their ill-fated visit had been Aubrey’s attempt to introduce Levi to her unusual skill set, a disconcerting experience, to say the least.
“It’s ancient history,” Aubrey insisted. “When Charley said you were working for a company with Vegas ties, based in California, I didn’t even think about Serino Enterprises. Small world, that’s all.”
“It’s a big company.” Zeke’s focus stayed tight on Aubrey.
“Still an interesting coincidence,” Levi added.
“Actually . . .” He finally offered Levi his attention. “In recent years, I’ve worked for Bruno’s brother, Jude, exclusively. I don’t have many dealings with Bruno—though I know he’s driven. Both brothers are competitive in different ways. And Nora. She’s, um . . . she’s married to their half-brother, Ian.”
Aubrey furrowed her brow. “Oh, I didn’t realize that.”
“No reason you should,” Zeke said. “I’m not surprised Bruno owned a property around here. In fact, it might have been where they first broke ground on their residential projects.”
“I think I recall that.” Levi thought for a moment, reaching for his Serino facts. “But like you said, they’re big into all sorts of ventures. Wide holdings—residential to commercial.”
“Right. It might have been an easier gig, working for Bruno. He’s just a nose-to-the-grindstone kind of man. But a while back, I caught Jude’s riskier eye with a few windfall predictions.”
Levi gestured toward the street. “Then I guess tonight’s mode of transportation is indicative of risks that paid off.”
“I spent a lot of years living hand to mouth. It was hard on me, harder on my sister. Maybe I went a little overboard with Charlotte and the rest of the troupe.” Zeke nudged a shoulder toward the car. “I wanted Aubrey to know that I amounted to something. You get that, right?” he said to Levi. “A man wanting to make his mark beyond what’s expected or average?”
Before Levi could reply, Aubrey grasped his wrist, turning the leather-banded watch toward her. “Gosh, traffic into Boston will be murder if we wait much longer. Why don’t we get going? Just let me put some lipstick on.” She flashed a smile at both men, retreating to the back hall, which accommodated a powder room addition.
Levi pointed. “Did you want to wait on the front porch for . . . Aubrey?” For the first time in seven years, Levi found himself lacking the words “my wife.”
“I can wait alone. Seemed like your son was looking for you.”
“Patience is a good quality. Let him work on it for a few more minutes. I’d be interested to hear more about you.”
It was after one in the morning when Levi heard the front door open. The hall light turned on and a low glow filtered into the bedroom. The soft luster illuminated Pete, who slept crooked in his father’s arms. The third step creaked, and the tenth, before Aubrey’s shadow fell over them. Her painted fingernails moved over her son’s face, brushing a tear Levi had missed. “How bad?” she asked.
“Medium. I couldn’t make sense out of any of it. Only whoever, whatever was in his dream, his room . . . his mind,” Levi said, “they were definitely from another era.”
When Aubrey and Levi weren’t discussing television jobs or entertaining her past, Pete’s scribe-like gift dominated most conversations.
“I swear he said ‘mustard gas’ at one point, and muttered phrases—in a French accent.” Aubrey
put her fingers to her lips, and he spoke more quietly. “Aubrey, they’re things no seven-year-old should know. Fortunately, he calmed down and fell asleep as soon as I brought him in here, so that was a plus.”
“I’ll put him back.”
“No. Just leave him here.”
She nodded and backed away. Aubrey shimmied out of the dress and Levi was surprised to see it involved no zipper, the clingy fabric peeling from her body like the petal on an exotic flower. Her slender figure hadn’t changed over time, and it still fascinated him that he’d been so physically attracted to the wavy raven hair, her elegant tall frame. Blondes and petite had always been his go-to image. Aside from the physical, Aubrey had been so different from any woman who’d come before her. Even more interesting was how Aubrey turned out to be everything Levi had ever needed or wanted. How fate, not his dogged determination, put her in his life. Levi eased his arm out from beneath Pete, propping himself on his elbow. “You know,” he said, “I think I will move Pete back. He’s in that snorey, super deep sleep.”
Aubrey didn’t object as he slipped from the bed and returned their son to his room, only a few feet away.
He waited at Pete’s bedside for a few moments, satisfied when the boy only rolled to his side, clutching an overly loved stuffed monkey named Moe and popping his thumb into his mouth. It was the comfort habit of a baby that Levi wouldn’t dare attempt to correct. When he came back to bed, Aubrey was already in it. He slid under the covers, intrigued by her choice of nightgown—nothing. “How was your date?” he asked, kissing her shoulder.
“My date?” She rolled in his direction, and Levi kissed her, tasting a trace of lipstick and champagne. “My date was fine.”
Levi loomed over her, Aubrey sinking into the mattress. “So you agree that your past showed up here with an agenda?”
“I agree that my past showed up wanting to show off his present. Zeke’s probably on Charley’s front porch right now, sneaking a cigarette. I’m right here.”
“Fascinating,” he said, touching her face, but distracted by the tidbit. “I wouldn’t think a smoker would have ever appealed to you.”
“One of many things that made Zeke not the right guy. He tried. Quit smoking more than once for me, but somehow his love of Camels always won out.”
Foretold (A Ghost Gifts Novel Book 2) Page 12
