by Lotta Smith
“I see. Probably, Rachel’s regrets found home in the letters she’d written and sent, haunting here for a long time,” he said matter-of-factly. His tone was casual, as if to say that sort of thing was common. Then he knelt down by the piles of letters and made the sign of the cross with his eyes closed.
I didn’t expect him to show such an earnest respect for the former resident turned a ghost—especially with her driving new residents away and making this property uninhabitable and unprofitable.
In silence, I watched him pray. And I was slightly taken aback and confused.
I had already noticed his good looks, but his blunt demeanor and “Who cares?” attitude sent a different message than what I was seeing now. His beauty stood out in a different way when he was quiet. His sharp jawline alone would qualify him to become America’s next heartthrob, and I could already picture some of Hollywood’s A-lister actresses and actors lining up to compete for his attention.
Admiring his serious face, I recalled that the receptionists were extremely good-looking as well. I had a feeling that I’d be failing miserably if looks mattered a lot in the selection process. Then I thought I’d have already failed if looks happened to be the company’s number one priority in the selection process. I didn’t expect to be featured in any listings for the most attractive women in the world, but I wasn’t ugly enough to avoid looking into the mirror at all costs.
At least I didn’t scream when I looked into the mirror—except for the time when my face had looked bloody as if it was slashed by Jack the Ripper. But back then, I was a fourth grader in the middle of a summer camp, and Melissa Stevenson from Santa Barbara thought it would be hysterically funny to apply F-class-horror-movie-worthy makeup on me while I was sleeping. I should have woken up while she was in the act, but I was too exhausted following a bout with insomnia the previous three nights. Being an only child, I wasn’t an expert in falling asleep with other kids sleeping in the same room.
While I was musing with my thoughts and past memories, Jack had finished praying. He started to pack the letters into a brown paper bag he was carrying.
“What are you going to do with all these letters?” I asked, helping him pack.
“I’ll bring them to a guy who performs closure ceremonies for any religions. Then again, I don’t feel the ghostly presence anymore.”
“Are you sure?” My eyes widened. “Where did she go?”
“To a better place, perhaps.” He indicated the ceiling with his jaw. “You finding the letters must have pleased the ghost enough to leave this world, I guess.”
Listening to Jack’s words, I recalled the ghost’s behavior in the predawn. Like he said, her vibes felt different in the early morning than they had in the middle of the night. Her scary aggressiveness had disappeared, and I felt as if the ghost had attempted to soothe me as I cried like a total idiot.
“Hmm, okay.” I nodded. “Can a haunting ghost depart to a better world that easily?”
“To be precise, it’s not easy for ghosts still remaining in this world after dying to forget about whatever unfulfilled wishes and so on to leave. Then again, any ghosts will disappear eventually, and I’m positive she won’t pop up and spook the residents anymore,” he said thoughtfully. “Having someone find her letters—that’s the most probable cause for her to stay here for years and years.”
“I see,” I muttered. I got his point, but I didn’t feel the click of the case being closed. So, I found her letters, but they were still here with us and not with Ted, the son whom she loved, cherished, and missed like mad. “Okay, so she’s dead, and she won’t be able to meet up with anyone anymore, but passing on the letters to the recipient won’t hurt, I guess?” My words sound like a question than a statement, but I didn’t care.
“Just one thing.” He raised his index finger, looking into my eyes. “Don’t stick your nose into where it doesn’t belong to. You might be thinking you know the situation, but all you’ve managed to learn was a one-sided version. In short, it’s none of our business.”
“But—”
“Time to leave here,” he interrupted me in mid-sentence. “You’ve completed all parts of the selection processes.” His tone was hard and cold and was the equivalent of a declaration of having no room for an argument or deal.
As I shut up, he collected the gadgets and equipment, looking like he was just working on his routine. And, in a matter of a few minutes, the room was as vacant as it was when we’d initially come in.
“Check your belongings. Make sure you’ve got everything you need,” Jack commanded.
I did that and then followed him outside to the station wagon. I rode shotgun, and Jack drove me to LAX. I looked out the window at the changing sceneries, regurgitating the events happening in the past fifteen hours or so.
I felt like I’d spent years—not just a night—in the apartment unit. As much as I was exhausted, I felt it wasn’t right to leave there, finish the test, and leave everything I’d experienced last night in the past.
I could still feel the warmth on my back in the place Rachel had stroked as if to console me when I broke into tears. She definitely existed right there, and I couldn’t just forget about her like any other weird happenings I used to label as just another bizarre coincidence.
“Hey,” Jack Adams said abruptly while I was busy mulling over my thoughts. I knew nothing about him except for his name, workplace, and the peculiar section he was with. I decided to add insensitive and lacking delicacy in my mental notes in the section named the things about Jack Adams.
“Yes?” I replied half-heartedly.
“What are you going to do if you get hired by Quest Realty?”
“What?” I looked at his face just to check for signs he was joking. As I looked at his serious face, I realized I should have said “Pardon me?” instead to sound less blunt.
The funny thing was, I didn’t feel like happy dancing as he said those words. Under normal circumstances, I’d be deliriously happy to hear the prospects of actually getting hired by Jack Adams himself. Of course, people in charge of hiring could get quite nasty sometimes, and they might give the applicant false hopes just for fun. Jack didn’t look like such a person. Anyway, it was the perfect timing to give myself a final push so that I’d be able to convince him to hire me no matter what.
Then again, after everything that happened last night, I was no longer sure if I really wanted to work with Quest Realty.
“Well—” I tried my best to pick the most appropriate words. “To be honest, I’m not quite sure. Last night was extra stormy for me. I was so frightened. Not just that, I felt sadness I’d never felt before. On top of all that, I was beyond exhausted.
“Suppose I were to actually start working for Quest Realty, I’ll work on cases like the one I did last night—am I correct?” I asked.
“Yes, you are.”
“I’m not sure if I’d be able to keep my sanity doing this kind of work,” I said. Call me an idiot, but I couldn’t just say “Yes, I can!” to something I had little to no confidence in accomplishing.
“No need to worry about that,” he assured me, which seemed uncharacteristic for him. I didn’t regard him as an assuring kind of a guy. “You’ll get used to coping with your emotions as you work on the cases, and you can do it gradually.”
“Oh. Still... I’m not...” Not quite sure what to say, I mumbled unintelligible things. Finally, I fell into silence.
“You might not have noticed, but you have huge potential,” he said. “You’ve far exceeded my initial expectations.”
“Really?” I chuckled. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No way.” He shook his head. “Well, I don’t normally say such a thing, and I’m not thrilled about saying it, but I don’t want to see you go and get a job somewhere else.”
I gazed at him with my jaw dropping to the floor. He sounded like a guy who was interested in me. Who could have expected he’d say something so close to a compliment?
&n
bsp; Of course, I knew he was talking about my sixth sense or witchy sense. Then again, I wasn’t all that thrilled with dealing with dead people with all the risks of being scared, terrorized, and emotionally shaken up.
“Look, you submitted an application to the company because you wanted a position with Quest Realty, didn’t you?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Of course, I did.” I nodded like a bobblehead. “Then again, this is not what I’d expected.”
“Oh, okay.” He clicked his tongue. “So, you’d rather start your application process somewhere else.”
I could have had several other prospective employers lining up to hire me, but he sounded like he knew Quest Realty was the only potential job for me at the moment. In addition, he went so far as to mention the starting salary for me. And, that was a lot. I’d read all the advice for jobseekers, and I knew I’d have to negotiate my salary to land on a better deal, but instead of acting nonchalant, I sucked in my breath with a noise like I’d just let out the biggest hiccup of the year. I’d also read that female candidates were less likely to negotiate on their salary, and I had made a mental note to be a tough negotiator when I left home, but everything I’d planned had been left behind me.
“Oh my God.” I held my head. “It’s like making an ultimate choice between two impossible options. What should I do?”
“Come on, you’re lucky for having choices.” He let out a subtle chuckle, and for the first time, I saw him sporting something resembling a smile.
I froze in shock. I’d labeled him as Mr. Grumpy, but I was so wrong. Also, the subtle hint of a smile on his face was so calm, peaceful, and… well, I wanted to see that again! “I have a question!” I said, just to increase the odds of seeing him smile once again.
“What?”
“Um… when can I ask for a transfer to a different section?” I said, prepping myself to savor the most about smiling Jack Adams.
“Seriously? What kind of a job applicant asks for a transfer before getting hired?”
“Someone like me, perhaps?” I replied in a tone more suitable for a question than a statement. “Besides that, I think I’ll need something to keep me motivated.”
“That’s the craziest logic I’ve ever heard.” He shrugged. There was no sign of a smile—not even a flicker of it—but the next thing he said took my mood to a new high. “When you’ve mastered the tasks in my section, I’ll be happy to write you a letter of recommendation to any section you want to go,” he said casually.
“Are you sure?” My eyes widened.
“Yup.” He snorted. “You can work hard if you wanna move to the upper floor quickly.”
“Oh my God! I’ll keep that in mind, okay?” I perked up. The exhaustion and all the emotions that seemed to be dragging on and on had immediately disappeared. For once, I had proof that asking something never hurt. I was beyond excited as we drove under the sign indicating the distance to LAX.
And, during the rest of the drive, I was like a kid before Christmas with Jack occasionally tilting his head like he was beginning to doubt his decision.
When we arrived at the airport, Jack let out a small sigh and pulled over by the drop-off area. “You’ll receive another letter as soon as all the remaining processes with the company have been completed.”
“Fabulous! Thank you so much!” I hopped out of the station wagon. I headed for the terminal.
CHAPTER 10
When I entered the terminal, I didn’t head to the check-in machine immediately.
Instead, I watched Jack’s station wagon leaving out of my sight while hiding behind one of the building’s columns. When his car had left, I took an elevator for ground transportation. I killed time by purchasing a bottled of unsweetened iced tea along with a bag of Ghirardelli chocolate and visiting the lady’s room. I didn’t want to bump into him because I had somewhere else to go.
I swiped my phone and searched for the address Rachel had sent all those letters to. I had taken a photo of one of the envelopes so that I could visit the address in Beverly Hills anytime I wanted to. I didn’t have the gall to snatch one of the letters from the test property—mostly because I was afraid of taking either the ghost or whatever residual thingy was stuck with the letter with me. Besides that, taking anything away from that property seemed like a theft. I had my standards. Anyway, when I was confident that Jack had already left the airport, I opened the Uber app on my phone.
Thirty minutes later, I was in Beverly Hills oohing and ahhing over the extravaganza of the mansions lining the broad street as I strolled, trying to appear as relaxed as possible. What a shame that the majority of the homes were guarded by tall bushes and fences. If they’d added some live wire on the top of the fences, this neighborhood might have looked like a prison with moderate security. Unlike the tourists, I wasn’t there to sneak a peek at Hollywood A-listers’ homes.
I was looking for the address written on the envelope.
I was listening when Jack Adams had warned me against sticking my nose where it didn’t belong, and I agreed with him. Then again, I couldn’t just forget about my encounter with the ghost of a very sad mother.
In the beginning, I was just scared. Honestly, I used to believe all ghosts except for Casper and some of the chosen few like a former Broadway actor turned a ghost in a drag were evil, and I had to do just about everything to avoid encountering them. But, after the night of the aptitude test, my impression toward those on the ghostly other side of the world had significantly changed.
I wanted to do something for Rachel. Jack told me it was most likely that she’d left for a better world, but she’d shared her strong selfless love toward the son. If possible, I wanted to tell Ted that he was loved.
What I was attempting to do could have been completely undesired, bordering on annoying. Still, I thought it wouldn’t do much harm if I did a little digging into Ted’s feelings. From the letters, I knew his relationship with Rachel didn’t end with happily ever after. Still, he might have changed his mind and wished he’d engaged more with her. Of course, he could still hate her guts and never missed her. Or, he could be dead. Whatever the reality was, I was compelled to know. Maybe I was being a nosy idiot, but a part of me suspected Rachel had driven me to do this.
Born and raised in Napa Valley, my knowledge of Beverly Hills was limited. I knew it was a town for the rich and famous, complete with its own police force. I was mostly right. Even though the homes themselves were hidden from sight, each lot was huge, and the massive gates looked like they existed to brag about the residents’ crazy richness.
This neighborhood had more homes with foreclosure signs compared to my hometown. I’d only known about this town as a place signifying all the glory and glamour on the West Coast, and now, I couldn’t help noticing vibes that felt dark and somewhat depressing.
“Hello, miss,” an elderly lady in a pink Chanel suit and Yves Saint Laurent sunglasses greeted me as I looked for my destination.
“Hello, ma’am.” I offered her a smile. She was the first person I came across in the neighborhood, and what was even better was that she was walking and friendly enough to talk to me.
“Are you looking for something?” she asked me.
“Yes. I’m hoping to go to this address, and—” I recited the address, showing her my phone screen with the map.
“Well, let me see—” She lifted her sunglasses to the top of her platinum blonde hair, using them as a katyusha. “Oh, isn’t this the Davis residence?” she muttered after a while of silence.
“Yes.” I perked up. “A guy named Ted Davis might still live there,” I added expectantly.
“Oh, really?” She furrowed her thick eyebrows. On closer observation, I noticed they had been drawn on so perfectly I wondered if they were tattoos.
“Is Mr. Davis still alive?” I asked, as she fell awkwardly silent.
“No. Not anymore.” She shook her head. “Teddy used to be such a sweet kid when he was little, but life had been rough on him.”
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br /> “Oh—” I made a sympathetic noise. Then I realized he seemed to have spent most of his life in this neighborhood. When I read Rachel’s letters, I thought he’d moved when he separated from her. “Did he have a nasty divorce or something?” I realized I knew practically nothing about Ted, so I decided to fill in the blanks of my knowledge by peppering this lady in the Chanel outfit with questions.
“Oh, no. He never got married. My son used to go to school with him, and according to him, everybody knew he was gay. Then again, back in that time, not being a straight guy was considered something like a psychiatric illness.” She furrowed her eyebrows.
“Oh...”
“Anyway, Teddy wasn’t a whiner. He was determined to live his own life,” Lady Chanel went on. “He quit UCLA, saying he was transferring to another school in the East Coast, but everybody knew he was moving to New York to live with those artisty kinds of people who respected all the sexuality.”
“I see.” I nodded. That seemed to explain the part about the separation from Rachel. Except it didn’t make sense that his mom kept sending letters to her separated son addressed to the address where she should have been living. “So, what about his mom, Rachel?”
“Oh, no. She was devastated when Teddy passed away.” She squirmed her lips.
“Pardon me? Did her son die before she did?” My eyes widened.
“That’s correct. We were all so shocked when the news about his premature death came in.” She shook her head. “The Davises had a truly magnificent grand staircase, and Teddy was found dead at the bottom floor of that. The police ruled that as a tragic accident, but some people said Teddy had deliberately jumped.”
“Oh, my—” I shook my head, not knowing what to say. “That’s so sad. He’d made up his mind, and he was about to start a new life in a new place where he could have found a place he could really call home.”
“I know.” Lady Chanel nodded commiseratively.
“I can’t believe he killed himself,” I muttered.
“Me neither,” she said, lowering her voice. “Actually, some rumored Ted was murdered, and I can’t say they’re so mean to make up such a lie.”
