Spirit Talk: (Book One of The Fiona Series)

by Colleen McManus Hein

  “Hey, Fi.” Rick greeted her with a hug. “I’m so sorry about your grandma. I wish I’d gotten a chance to meet her.”

  Fiona hugged him back. “Me too. She was really excited to meet you and Nula. I told her all about you guys.”

  “We missed, you, Fi,” Rick said, “especially Queenie. It’ll be nice to have you back in Lake Quinn.” Then, in a much quieter voice, he said, “Plus, your mom never wants to babysit.”

  Fiona laughed and looked down at Nula’s smiling face. She didn’t know how to answer Rick because she was dreading returning to Lake Quinn. “Me, too,” she murmured, wishing there was a way to explain how much had happened to her since October.

  *****

  The funeral mass was held on Saturday morning after a hurried visit to the church on Friday afternoon to plan the service. Fiona and Ann accompanied their mother but allowed Theresa to choose all the readings, psalms, and music. At the funeral home, Theresa picked one of the more expensive caskets for Mary, and Ann and Fiona exchanged amazed looks when they heard the cost. “Don’t worry,” Theresa said, “your grandmother left behind detailed instructions for the funeral, and money to pay for the casket and luncheon. Her funeral plot was paid for a long time ago. She’ll be buried next to my father when the ground thaws.”

  Fiona suddenly thought of the cold bills in the cookie tin in her grandmother’s freezer and made a mental note to show Theresa. Fiona wasn’t sure how much money was in the tin; the rolls of bills could have been singles or hundreds. Knowing her grandmother, though, Fiona guessed they were more likely to be singles.

  On Friday night, after all the mourners had departed, Fiona, Ann, Rick, Theresa, and Nula sat in the living room and talked. The Care Crochet ladies had thoroughly cleaned the apartment and put away all the leftover food, and Fiona was immensely grateful. The expression “tired to the bone” was something she now understood. Fiona pulled out the Grand Marnier bottle and four cordial glasses. She sat in her grandmother’s spot on the couch with Nula in her lap and listened to her mother tell stories about Mary. To hear Theresa speak so affectionately, one would never have suspected that there had been little contact between mother and daughter for three decades.

  Fiona told them about her time in Fireside with Mary and described Mary’s funny quirks. Ann looked wistful. “I wish I’d had a chance to know her better.”

  “I should have made it happen a long time ago,” Theresa sighed. Silence fell in the room. Why didn’t you? Fiona wanted to say but held her tongue.

  *****

  At bedtime, Ann, Rick, and Nula slept in Grandma Mary’s double bed, Fiona slept in her own room, and Theresa was on the couch. Fiona tried to get her mother to sleep in the bedroom. It was hers, after all, but Theresa refused.

  When her mother came in to say good night, though, she sat at the desk and opened the drawer, which still contained her papers and keepsakes from high school. Theresa shook her head in disbelief. “She never got rid of any of it,” she remarked, leafing through an essay she’d written on Hamlet her sophomore year.

  “Mom,” Fiona interrupted, “is there any way, any way at all, that I can stay here?” She paused hopefully when her mother didn’t immediately respond. “I could keep running the shop and live up here?”

  Theresa, though smiling, shook her head sadly. “I talked to Grandma’s lawyer on the phone Thursday. The shop didn’t make any money and the landlord is already planning on renting it out to someone who's going to turn it into an Italian restaurant.”

  “How is that possible?” Fiona exclaimed. “Grandma only died two days ago!”

  Theresa shut the desk drawer with a sigh. “It sounds like people knew she wasn’t doing well, health-wise. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Fiona drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. “I didn’t have anything to compare Grandma’s health to. She seemed frail when I got here. I tried to get her to a doctor, though, when the coughing got worse.” What Fiona really wanted to say was, “Mary was your mother! Why didn’t you know?”

  “I know,” Theresa sighed. “She was stubborn about things like that. I just wish I’d…gotten here sooner.”

  “So, there’s no way I can stay,” Fiona stated.

  “Why would you even want to, with Grandma gone?” Theresa asked.

  “I’ve grown to love it here,” Fiona explained. “I’ve made friends. I got a job babysitting. I’ve learned how to crochet those camouflage dresses that are so popular in the shop.” She paused, wondering if she should tell her mother about her clients and the card and palm readings, and especially about her ability to receive messages from spirits. Observing her mother’s wan face, though, Fiona decided against it. There would be plenty of time to tell Theresa when the opportunity arose.

  “Come back to Lake Quinn,” Theresa said, obviously attempting an upbeat tone. “The new apartment is right in town and you can get a job, save some money, and go downstate next year. I’ve finally figured out our finances. You’ll have to get some student loans, but between us we can probably come up with half your tuition and room and board. Or, you could live at home and commute to the campus downtown.”

  Fiona shuddered at the thought of such a life after living and working with Mary in Fireside. “Okay,” she said quietly. “What about Grandma’s stuff? And all the yarn in the shop?”

  Theresa moaned softly and rubbed her eyes. “After the funeral tomorrow, we’ll have to start packing. Ann and Rick have to get right back home, but the bank gave me a week off to deal with everything. We can take the bus home when we’re done here.” Theresa rubbed her eyes again.

  “Some of the nice antiques I want to keep for you and Ann to have in your homes someday,” her mother continued, sounding exhausted. “We’ll ship them to Lake Quinn and put them in storage for now. We’ll have to sort through everything else, though, and decide what we want to keep and what we should donate to Goodwill. As far as the shop goes, the lawyer said the yarn manufacturers will probably give us some money for the stock.”

  At that moment, Fiona’s last flicker of hope to remain in Fireside was extinguished. She pulled her grandmother’s gorgeous, crazy quilt up to her shoulders and touched a soft patch of velvet outlined in yellow embroidery thread. The quilt, she vowed, would go with her everywhere from now on.

  Chapter 27

  On Saturday morning, Fiona, wearing a black dress from her father’s funeral that Ann had been thoughtful enough to bring, sat in the first pew of the church between her sister and mother. She’d seen Henry and Ryan enter a moment earlier and her heart had melted at the sight of them in almost identical suits. Her heart dropped a little, too, when she realized they had probably worn those same suits for Carol’s funeral in this very same church. Henry was probably reliving a horrible day.

  A minute before the service began, Kevin Moran walked down the aisle and seated himself a few rows back, on the other side of the church from the family. Fiona whispered very quietly in Ann’s ear, “Kevin Moran,” then tilted her head in his direction. Ann slowly turned her head, pretending to look expectantly for the priest. Her eyes widened when she saw Kevin.

  “You described him well,” Ann whispered. Both then watched their mother for her reaction when she saw him, but Theresa continued to stare straight ahead.

  Fiona was calm and composed during the beginning of the funeral Mass, but she completely broke down during “Amazing Grace.” By the time the priest gave his eulogy, she had given up trying to preserve her carefully applied eye makeup. She figured she’d dash into the ladies’ room after the service and wipe off any dripping eyeliner and mascara. She knew she’d be facing many people at the luncheon at the Fireside Steak House, and she didn’t want to look wrecked when she saw Henry up close.

  After the Mass, Fiona, Ann, Nula, and Theresa stood in the back of the church and accepted condolences as people filed out into the cold December air. Fiona couldn’t help but think about how many cold viruses she was getting exposed to as she shook han
ds and received kisses. We need to wash our hands, she mouthed to Ann, who grimaced and nodded. When Henry and Ryan approached, Fiona smiled as she finally got to see Ryan and Nula together. She introduced Henry to Ann and her mother. Rick had disappeared due to his pall-bearer duties.

  “Sit near us at the steak house,” Fiona said to Henry, “so that way, the kids can play.”

  “Okay.” He gave her a thumb’s up as the crowd pushed him and Ryan past her and out the doors of the church. Fiona was surprised by how many people could fit inside the small church. The next familiar face to appear was Kevin's, and Fiona clasped his hand, remembering how his palm lines had shown the Writer’s Fork.

  “How’s the book coming along?” she asked him.

  Kevin smiled proudly. ‘I’ve written five chapters already!” He raised up his chin as he spoke the words and straightened his spine. He stared at Theresa and grinned. His eyes were as blue and merry as Fiona remembered them to be.

  Theresa, standing next to Fiona, looked back and forth at the two of them. “You know each other?” Theresa look of astonishment was open and unguarded. She’s reacting naturally to a situation for once, Fiona thought. Usually, her mother behaved as if she were speaking words from a script she’d memorized.

  Ann, who was standing on Theresa’s other side, gaped at Fiona and Fiona had to stifle a laugh.

  Theresa, having regained her composure and looking unruffled, said smoothly, “Ann, this is Kevin Moran, an old friend. Kevin, this is my daughter Ann, and this is her daughter, Finula Fredriksson.”

  “An honor to meet you.” Kevin took Ann’s hand, then bent down to greet Nula. “You girls all look alike.” His eyes went back to Theresa and he said, “A grandmother, are you? I’d never have guessed.”

  Theresa blushed a little at his remark and smiled. When Kevin returned Theresa’s gaze, Fiona thought she detected a tiny frisson of…something…pass between them.

  “Will you be joining us for the luncheon?” Theresa asked Kevin in a formal tone of voice.

  “Afraid not,” he said. “I have to go into work for a few hours. One of the snow plows is broken and I have to make sure it gets fixed before we get another storm. It was lovely to see you again, Theresa.” Kevin reached out and took Theresa’s hand, and Fiona could see that he gave her an affectionate squeeze before releasing it. “The years haven’t changed you in the least.”

  Theresa let out what could almost have been described as a girlish giggle. “And you, Kev, have not changed one bit either. It was nice of you to come. My mother was one of your biggest admirers.” At this remark, Theresa held Kevin’s gaze for a moment. To Fiona, it sounded fraught with meaning, as if she were saying to Kevin, “My mother thought you were the better man for me.” When Kevin finally walked away, Ann and Fiona both saw that Theresa followed him with her eyes as he left the church.

  True to his word, Henry found them at the steak house and began to sit down at a table nearby. Fiona, however, patted the chair next to hers. Henry obliged her, trying to get Ryan to sit on his lap, but the boy slipped off his lap and toddled over to Nula, who was drawing with crayons on a paper placemat. Nula paused and looked at Ryan, then handed him a red crayon. Ann and Fiona looked at one another and smiled.

  The luncheon was the first time Fiona had relaxed since she’d discovered her grandmother on Wednesday night. Ginny joined them at the table, and they told funny stories about Mary, laughing in between plates of salad, pasta, and chicken. Fiona wished she could freeze the luncheon in time and stay there forever. The interior of the steak house was warm and dark and Fiona felt pleasantly drowsy.

  During a lull in the conversation, she leaned over to Henry and told him that she’d be returning to Illinois, probably before the week’s end. She then studied his face for his reaction.

  He shook his head, then smiled sadly. “I guess figured as much, and then I knew for sure when Ginny’s friend Sue asked if she could take over your job.”

  Wow, Fiona thought. She didn’t lose any time.

  “I was thinking, though…” Henry paused and looked around as if to make sure no one else could hear him. “Maybe you could come back in the summer? I know the guy who owns the Maple Moose and he always hires extra waitresses in May.” Henry glanced at Fiona excitedly. “He lets the staff live for real cheap in the apartment above the restaurant. I’ve heard the girls make decent money from tips from the tourists. You could save for college.” He grinned a little wolfishly. “And maybe babysit for Ryan, too.”

  Fiona almost swooned with joy at Henry’s words. To her, it meant that he wanted her to stay in Fireside. She fervently wished that the broom hadn’t fallen over in the pantry on Tuesday night, one second before Henry kissed her.

  “That sounds like a cool idea,” Fiona managed. “Let me know. I’ll write to you with the phone number and address at my mom’s new apartment.”

  “Fi,” he said, his voice still low, “I really don’t want to think I’ll never see you again. You’ve come to be important to me and Ryan. You have to find a way to come back here.”

  Fiona moved her chair ever so slightly closer to Henry’s and her knee bumped his under the table. The brief contact sent an explosion of sensation up her leg. “Same here. You guys have started to feel like family to me.” She cringed, imagining Sue caring for Ryan. “So Sue’s going to watch him on Tuesdays and Thursdays?”

  Henry made a rueful face. “Yeah. She heard I pay well!” He shook his head and laughed.

  “Sue is a little odd, but very nice,” Fiona said.

  “Yes.” Henry dejectedly took a sip of his watery Diet Coke. “But I seriously doubt she’ll be cooking me dinners. Not good dinners, anyway.”

  Fiona made a sympathetic face but was secretly relieved that Henry hadn’t found an attractive young woman to babysit. “I’m sure Sue will take good care of Ryan,” she said consolingly. “She seems very competent, and all the Care Crochet ladies are kind.”

  Henry said, touching Fiona’s hand, “Thank you for making me try to feel better. Just try and come back, Fi,” he said huskily. “Summer in Fireside is wonderful. It’s the best. You need to experience it.” Fiona turned her hand over and pressed her palm against Henry’s warm palm. She imagined their Fate lines intertwining.

  When the luncheon ended and people began to drift out of the restaurant in clusters, Fiona hugged Ryan, then Henry. As she watched them walk through the steakhouse’s faux golden doors, something inside her twisted painfully. Fiona figured it was her heart. Ann came up next to her, linking arms, and whispered, “He really does look like Luke Skywalker.”

  Fiona leaned her head against her sister’s head and whispered back, “And I want to be his Princess Leia.”

  Chapter 28

  Early Monday afternoon, after a long morning with Theresa sorting through Mary’s possessions and packing endless boxes, Fiona put on her coat and told her mother she was going across the street to the Golden Goose. “I need some feminine products,” she called out.

  “Okay, sweetheart,” her mother said. I wonder if my mother still needs feminine products? Fiona wondered. It wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have, however.

  Fiona walked slowly through the disorganized remains of Mary’s Sewing Bee, pausing to lift a half-finished crochet dress from her grandmother’s basket. She examined the neat stitches. Fiona would finish the dress herself. She already had a vague plan to get a booth with Ann at one of the many craft fairs in Lake Quinn and sell the dresses. There were at least fifteen on the rack already, and she could keep making more. Ann was making them, too.

  Fiona gazed helplessly at the half-packed boxes of yarn that would be returned to the distributer. How did this happen? How could her new life in Fireside fall apart so quickly? Everything had just been coming together. She’d finally been happy.

  When she opened the door and began down the steps, she braced herself for the cold wind that she knew would pull at her coat and scarf. When she saw Martin Bankston standing at the bot
tom of the steps in his long, black coat, she was, oddly, unsurprised. Her grandmother had predicted, after all, that Martin Bankston would be back when they were desperate for money.

  Fiona didn’t bother asking Martin what he wanted because she already knew. “I’m sorry about your grandmother,” he said, approaching her. He carried a black leather briefcase in one hand.

  “How did you know?” Fiona asked. Were his psychic abilities that powerful, or did he get information from “sources” in Fireside? Then she remembered her grandmother’s obituary had been in the newspaper.

  Martin smiled again, as if he were reading her mind. “Yes, the obituary was a lovely tribute,” he agreed.

  Fiona felt completely exposed. If this man could read her mind, then he already knew that she did not have any money of her own and she did not want to return to Lake Quinn and live in her mother’s new apartment.

  “Let’s get a cup of coffee and talk,” Martin suggested, beginning to turn toward the Maple Moose. Fiona followed, wanting to bolt but overcome by curiosity.

  Inside the warm restaurant, they both removed their coats and hung them on the wooden pegs by the front door. “Sit anywhere,” the waitress, a middle-aged woman who Fiona recognized, called out cheerfully.

  Martin led Fiona to a booth as far as possible from the front door. He folded his hands together and gazed at her across the table with a kind expression on his face. “Why do you distrust me automatically?”

  At that moment, the waitress appeared next to them with glasses of water and menus. She wore a nametag that read “Greta.” When she saw Fiona’s face, she exclaimed, “Oh, darlin’, I’m so sorry about your grandma. Mary was the sweetest woman. I really am going to miss seeing her.”

  “Thank you,” Fiona replied, “that’s so kind of you to say.”

  “Any chance you can stick around and, you know, take over for her?” Greta gave Fiona a knowing look. She realized that Greta must have been one of Mary’s clients. “I heard you’re real good, too, just like your grandmother.”